Robert Herrick

His Winding-sheet

COME thou, who are the wine and wit
            Of all I've writ:
The grace, the glory, and the best
            Piece of the rest.
Thou art of what I did intend
            The all and end;
And what was made, was made to meet
            Thee, thee, my sheet.
Come then and be to my chaste side
            Both bed and bride:
We two, as reliques left, will have
            Once rest, one grave:
And hugging close, we will not fear
            Lust entering here:
Where all desires are dead and cold
            As is the mould;
And all affections are forgot,
            Or trouble not.
Here, here, the slaves and prisoners be
            From shackles free:
And weeping widows long oppress'd
            Do here find rest.
The wronged client ends his laws
            Here, and his cause.
Here those long suits of Chancery lie
            Quiet, or die:
And all Star-Chamber bills do cease
            Or hold their peace.
Here needs no Court for our Request
            Where all are best,
All wise, all equal, and all just
            Alike i' th' dust.
Nor need we here to fear the frown
            Of court or crown:
Where fortune bears no sway o'er things,
            There all are kings.
In this securer place we'll keep
            As lull'd asleep;
Or for a little time we'll lie
            As robes laid by;
To be another day re-worn,
            Turn'd, but not torn:
Or like old testaments engross'd,
            Lock'd up, not lost.
And for a while lie here conceal'd,
            To be reveal'd
Next at the great Platonick year,
            And then meet here.