Robert Herrick looks back on his earlier, “wild” and “unhallowed” days, and the poems he wrote then feel like unbaptized children to him. He isn’t just regretting wasted time — he’s troubled that those verses, full of worldly pleasure, lack God’s presence. With the raw sincerity of a prayer, he asks not just for forgiveness, but for an editor: blot out every line that isn’t woven through with the divine. Yet buried in this guilt is a quiet flicker of hope. If even one poem among them all turns out to be worthy of a blessing, he says, that single piece will be the crowning glory of his entire life’s work — and of his soul. The poem creates an intimate, almost fragile mood, as if we’re overhearing a whispered confession where remorse and a desperate wish for meaning are inseparable.
His Prayer For Absolution — Summary
For those my unbaptized rhymes, Writ in my wild unhallowed times, For every sentence, clause, and word, That's not inlaid with Thee, my Lord, Forgive me, God, and blot each line Out of my book, that is not Thine. But if, 'mongst all, Thou find'st here one Worthy thy benediction, That one of all the rest shall be The glory of my work, and me.