Classic Poem

Methought the King of Terrors came my way,
Whom all men flee, and none esteem it base.
But lo, his smile forbidding me dismay,
I stood—and dared to look him in the face.
‘So soon,’ the only murmur in my heart:
For I had shaped the deeds of many years—
Ambitioning atonement; and in part,
To reap in joy what I had sown in tears.
Then, turning to our Lady: ‘O my Queen,
'Twere very sweet already to have won
My crown, and pass to see as I am seen,
And never more offend thy blessed Son:
Yet would I stay—and for myself, I own—
To stand at last the nearer to thy throne.’