And thus ends a week of C.S. Lewis poetry.  Thank you for indulging me as I shared a few of my favorites.  I hope you found them as worthwhile as I.

After Prayers, Lie Cold

Arise my body, my small body, we have striven

Enough, and He is merciful; we are forgiven.

Arise small body, puppet-like and pale, and go,

White as the bed-clothes into bed, and cold as snow,

Undress with small, cold fingers and put out the light,

And be alone, hush’d mortal, in the sacred night,

–A meadow whipt flat with the rain, a cup

Emptied and clean, a garment washed and folded up,

Faded in color, thinned almost to raggedness

By dirt and by the washing of that dirtiness.

Be not too quickly warm again.  Lie cold; consent

To weariness’ and pardon’s watery element.

Drink up the bitter water, breathe the chilly death;

Soon enough comes the riot of our blood and breath.