Beatitude Poem by Michael Pendragon

Beatitude



Blesséd be the Night of Death
Blesséd too the gaping tomb
Now the lost son journeyeth
Homeward to his Mother's womb

Bounteous the Stygian vale
Sweet the draught from Lethe's bed
Beauteous thy cheek so pale
Gentil rest the newly dead

Sorrows no more shalt thou see
Nevermore thou'lt vainly pine
Blesséd more for thou dwell'st free
All Eternity is thine

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success