The poem
If on water and sweet bread Seven years I'll add to life, For me will no blood be shed, No lamb know the evil knife; Excellently will I dine On a crust and Adam's wine.
If a bed in monkish cell Well mean old of age to me, Let me in a convent dwell, And from fellow men be free; Let my mellow sunset days Pass in piety and praise.
For I love each hour I live, Wishing it were twice as long; Dawn my gratitude I give, Laud the Lord with evensong: Now that moons are sadly few How I grudge the grave its due!
Yet somehow I seem to know Seven Springs are left to me; Seven Mays may cherry tree Will allume with sudden snow . . . Then let seven candles shine Silver peace above my shrine.
A year ago, after just five
decades, I gave myself twelve
more, thinking at that time,
this certainly would suffice.
Yet, as only one year has now
passed, I pray for many more.