Robert Herrick Poems
- To The Virgins, Make Much Of T... Gather ye rose-buds while ...
- Dreams Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd By ...
- To Daffodils Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste ...
- A Hymn To Love I will confess With cheerfulness, Love is a ...
- Upon The Nipples Of Julia's Br... Have ye beheld (with much ...
- Delight In Disorder A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in...
- A Child's Grace HERE a little child I stand Heaving up my ...
Clergyman and poet, Robert Herrick was born in London, the seventh child of Nicholas Herrick, a wealthy goldsmith. In November 1592, two days after making a will, his father killed himself by jumping from the fourth-floor window of his house. However, the Queen's Almoner did not confiscate the Herrick estate for the crown as was usually the case with suicides. There is no record of Herrick attending school. In 1607 he was apprenticed to his uncle Sir William Herrick as a goldsmith.
'A Country Life: To his Brother M. Tho. Herrick' (1610) is Herrick's earliest known poem, and deals with the move from London to farm life in Leicestershire. 'To My Dearest Sister M. Merice Herrick' was... more »
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To The Virgins, Make Much Of Time
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may:
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best, which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times, still succeed the former.
- Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.