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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Robert Herrick Poems
Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd By dreams, each one into a several world.
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.
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attain'd his noon.
A Hymn To Love
I will confess With cheerfulness, Love is a thing so likes me, That, let her lay
A Child's Grace
HERE a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee,
DELIGHT IN DISORDER
A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness; A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction;
Upon The Nipples Of Julia's Breast
Have ye beheld (with much delight) A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed?
A HYMN TO VENUS AND CUPID
Sea-born goddess, let me be By thy son thus graced, and thee, That whene'er I woo, I find Virgins coy, but not unkind.
NO FAULT IN WOMEN
No fault in women, to refuse The offer which they most would chuse. - No fault: in women, to confess How tedious they are in their dress;
A Christmas Carol, Sung to the King in t...
Chorus. What sweeter music can we bring, Than a Carol, for to sing
THE KISS: A DIALOGUE
1 Among thy fancies, tell me this, What is the thing we call a kiss? 2 I shall resolve ye what it is:--
A Ring Presented to Julia
Julia, I bring To thee this Ring. Made for thy finger fit; To shew by this,
A Lyric to Mirth
While the milder fates consent, Let's enjoy our merriment : Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play ; Kiss our dollies night and day :
TO ANTHEA, WHO MAY COMMAND HIM ANY THING
Bid me to live, and I will live Thy Protestant to be; Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
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Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.