His Pilgrimage Poem by Sir Walter Raleigh

His Pilgrimage

Rating: 2.7


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.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ratnakar Mandlik 24 February 2017

There will I kiss The bowl of bliss Excellent conceptualization. Thanks for sharing it here.

0 0 Reply
Thabani Khumalo 16 June 2015

I have a vision to write like this, only if god would bless me enough to.dcfv

2 1 Reply
Thabani Khumalo 16 June 2015

I have a vision to write like this, only if god would bless me enough to.vfj

2 1 Reply
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