Ah, my Perilla! dost thou grieve to see <br />Me, day by day, to steal away from thee? <br />Age calls me hence, and my gray hairs bid come, <br />And haste away to mine eternal home; <br />'Twill not be long, Perilla, after this, <br />That I must give thee the supremest kiss:-- <br />Dead when I am, first cast in salt, and bring <br />Part of the cream from that religious spring, <br />With which, Perilla, wash my hands and feet; <br />That done, then wind me in that very sheet <br />Which wrapt thy smooth limbs, when thou didst implore <br />The Gods' protection, but the night before; <br />Follow me weeping to my turf, and there <br />Let fall a primrose, and with it a tear: <br />Then lastly, let some weekly strewings be <br />Devoted to the memory of me; <br />Then shall my ghost not walk about, but keep <br />Still in the cool and silent shades of sleep.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-perllla/
