Friday Poem: 'My Dearest Dust'

11 August 2017

A Friday Poem by Lady Catherine Dyer. 


My dearest dust, could not thy hasty day
Afford thy drowzy patience leave to stay
One hower longer: so that we might either
Sate up, or gone to bedd together?
But since thy finisht labor hath possest
Thy weary limbs with early rest,
Enjoy it sweetly: and thy widdowe bride
Shall soone repose her by thy slumbring side.
Whose business, now, is only to prepare
My nightly dress, and call to prayre:
Mine eyes wax heavy and ye day growes old.
The dew falls thick, my beloved growes cold.
Draw, draw ye closed curtaynes: and make room:
My dear, my dearest dust; I come, I come.
 
My Dearest Dust is an epitaph, which appears on the monument erected in 1641 by Lady Catherine Dyer to her husband Sir William Dyer in Colmworth Church, Bedfordshire.