Before the poem, a lesson in how to die, from Powell and Pressburger's A Matter of Life and Death:
Sir Walter Raleigh. 1552–1618 |
| 77. His Pilgrimage |
| 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; | 5 |
| 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; | 10 |
| Over the silver mountains, | |
| Where spring the nectar fountains; | |
| There will I kiss | |
| The bowl of bliss; | |
| And drink mine everlasting fill | 15 |
| Upon every milken hill. | |
| My soul will be a-dry before; | |
| But, after, it will thirst no more. |
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