The Poetry Corner

To The Reverend Shade Of His Religious Father.

By Robert Herrick

That for seven lusters I did never come To do the rites to thy religious tomb; That neither hair was cut, or true tears shed By me, o'er thee, as justments to the dead, Forgive, forgive me; since I did not know Whether thy bones had here their rest or no, But now 'tis known, behold! behold, I bring Unto thy ghost th' effused offering: And look what smallage, night-shade, cypress, yew, Unto the shades have been, or now are due, Here I devote; and something more than so; I come to pay a debt of birth I owe. Thou gav'st me life, but mortal; for that one Favour I'll make full satisfaction; For my life mortal rise from out thy hearse. And take a life immortal from my verse.