Matins, Or Morning Prayer
Robert Herrick
When with the virgin morning thou dost rise, Crossing thyself come thus to sacrifice; First wash thy heart in innocence; then bring Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure every thing. Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense. Thy golden censers fill'd with odours sweet Shall make thy actions with their ends to meet.
Next 10 Poems
- Robert Herrick : Men Mind No State In Sickness
- Robert Herrick : Mirth
- Robert Herrick : Miseries
- Robert Herrick : Money Makes The Mirth
- Robert Herrick : Mrs Eliz: Wheeler, Under The Name Of The
- Robert Herrick : Mrs Eliz: Wheeler, Under The Name Of Thelost Shepherdess
- Robert Herrick : Night Piece, To Julia
- Robert Herrick : No Fault In Women
- Robert Herrick : No Loathsomeness In Love
- Robert Herrick : No Man Without Money
Previous 10 Poems
- Robert Herrick : Man's Dying-place Uncertain
- Robert Herrick : Lovers How They Come And Part
- Robert Herrick : Love, What It Is
- Robert Herrick : Love Palpable
- Robert Herrick : Love Lightly Pleased
- Robert Herrick : Love Dislikes Nothing
- Robert Herrick : Loss From The Least
- Robert Herrick : Litany To The Holy Spirit
- Robert Herrick : Life Is The Body's Light
- Robert Herrick : Kissing Usury