His Pilgrimage

By Sir Walter Raleigh

1552-1618


GIVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,
         My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
         My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope's true gage;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

Blood must be my body's balmer;
         No other balm will there be given:
Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer,
         Travelleth towards the land of heaven;
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains;
         There will I kiss
         The bowl of bliss;
And drink mine everlasting fill
Upon every milken hill.
My soul will be a-dry before;
But, after, it will thirst no more.

DayPoems Poem No. 79
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/79.html">His Pilgrimage by Sir Walter Raleigh</a>

The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor

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