Robert Herrick

(1591-1674 / London / England)

Robert Herrick Poems

1. A Bucolic Betwixt Two;Lacon And Thyrsis 12/31/2002
2. A Canticle To Apollo 12/31/2002
3. A Child's Grace 1/4/2003
4. A Christmas Carol, Sung To The King In The Presence At White-Hall 1/3/2003
5. A Conjuration To Electra 1/13/2003
6. A Conjuration: To Electra 12/31/2002
7. A Dialogue Betwixt Himself And Mistress Elizawheeler, Under The Name Of Amarillis 12/31/2002
8. A Hymn To Bacchus 12/31/2002
9. A Hymn To Love 12/31/2002
10. A Hymn To The Graces 12/31/2002
11. A Hymn To Venus And Cupid 12/31/2002
12. A Lyric To Mirth 1/3/2003
13. A Mean In Our Means 12/31/2002
14. A Meditation For His Mistress 12/31/2002
15. A New Year's Gift,Sent To Sir Simeon Steward 12/31/2002
16. A Panegyric To Sir Lewis Pemberton 12/31/2002
17. A Paranaeticall, Or Advisive Verseto His Friend, Mr John Wicks 12/31/2002
18. A Pastoral Sung To The King 12/31/2002
19. A Request To The Graces 12/31/2002
20. A Ring Presented To Julia 1/3/2003
21. A Thanksgiving To God, For His House 12/31/2002
22. A Vow To Venus 12/31/2002
23. All Things Decay And Die 12/31/2002
24. Ambition 12/31/2002
25. An Epitaph Upon A Child 12/31/2002
26. An Epitaph Upon A Virgin 12/31/2002
27. An Hymn To The Muses 12/31/2002
28. An Ode For Ben Jonson 12/31/2002
29. An Ode Of The Birth Of Our Saviour 12/31/2002
30. An Ode To Master Endymion Porter, Upon His Brother's Death 1/3/2003
31. An Ode To Sir Clipsby Crew 12/31/2002
32. Anacreontic 12/31/2002
33. Another 1/4/2003
34. Another Grace For A Child 12/31/2002
35. Anthea's Retractation 12/31/2002
36. Art Above Nature: To Julia 12/31/2002
37. Barley-Break; Or, Last In Hell 12/31/2002
38. Be My Mistress Short Or Tall 1/3/2003
39. Burial 12/31/2002
40. Casualties 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Robert Herrick

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.

Read the full of To The Virgins, Make Much Of Time

The Mad Maid's Song

Good morrow to the day so fair;
Good morning, sir, to you;
Good morrow to mine own torn hair,
Bedabbled with the dew.

Good morning to this primrose too;
Good morrow to each maid;
That will with flowers the tomb bestrew
Wherein my Love is laid.

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