When with the Virgin morning thou do'st rise, Crossing thy selfe; 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 kneele, and thence, Give up thy soule in clouds of frankinsence. Thy golden Censors fil'd with odours sweet, Shall make thy actions with their ends to meet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MENTAL TRAVELLER by WILLIAM BLAKE WITH FLOWERS by EMILY DICKINSON THE VISION (1) by ROBERT HERRICK TO THE DANDELION by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL VETERAN SIRENS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ALASTOR; OR, THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY A PRAYER by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL TO THE EARL OF WARWICK ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON by THOMAS TICKELL |