|
|
The Parasceve, Or Preparation.
By Robert Herrick
To a love-feast we both invited are:
The figur'd damask, or pure diaper,
Over the golden altar now is spread,
With bread, and wine, and vessels furnished;
The sacred towel and the holy ewer
Are ready by, to make the guests all pure:
Let's go, my Alma; yet, ere we receive,
Fit, fit it is we have our parasceve.
Who to that sweet bread unprepar'd doth come,
Better be starv'd, than but to taste one crumb.
Extra Info: Parasceve, preparation.
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 400 times.
|
|