Sunday Holy Sonnet

Six

This is my playes last scene, here heavens appoint
My pilgrimages last mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly runne, hath this last pace,
My spans last inch, my minutes latest point,

And gluttonous death, will instantly unjoynt
My body, and soule, and I shall sleepe a space,
But my’ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose feare already shakes my every joynt;

Then, as my soule, to’heaven her first seate, takes flight,
And earth-borne body, in the earth shall dwelll,
So, fall my sinnes, that all may have their right,
To where they’re bred, and would presse me, to hell.

Impute me righteous, thus purg’d of evill,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devill.

John Donne