Robert Herrick

(1591-1674 / London / England)

Robert Herrick Poems

281. Upon The Nipples Of Julia's Breast 1/13/2003
282. Upon Time 12/31/2002
283. Upon Wrinkles 12/31/2002
284. Want 12/31/2002
285. What Kind Of Mistress He Would Have 12/31/2002
286. When He Would Have His Verses Read 12/31/2002
287. Why Flowers Change Colour 12/31/2002
288. Wlt Punished Prospers Most 12/31/2002
289. Writing 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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