I would to God that mine old age might have
Before my last, but here a living grave,
Some one poor almshouse; there to lie, or stir
Ghostlike, as in my meaner sepulchre;
A little piggin and a pipkin by,
To hold things fitting my necessity,
Which rightly used, both in their time and place,
Might me excite to fore and after-grace.
Thy Cross, my Christ, fix’d ‘fore mine eyes should be,
Not to adore that, but to worship Thee.
So, here the remnant of my days I’d spend,
Reading Thy Bible, and my Book; so end.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.