Robert Herrick Poems
|281.||Upon The Loss Of His Mistresses||12/31/2002|
|282.||Upon The Nipples Of Julia's Breast||1/13/2003|
|286.||What Kind Of Mistress He Would Have||12/31/2002|
|287.||When He Would Have His Verses Read||12/31/2002|
|288.||Why Flowers Change Colour||12/31/2002|
|289.||Wlt Punished Prospers Most||12/31/2002|
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.
Love, What It Is
Love is a circle, that doth restless move
In the same sweet eternity of Love.