Robert Herrick

(1591-1674 / London / England)

Robert Herrick Poems

81. His Winding-Sheet 12/31/2002
82. His Wish To God 12/31/2002
83. His Wish To Privacy 12/31/2002
84. How His Soul Came Ensnared 12/31/2002
85. How Pansies Or Hearts-Ease Came First 12/31/2002
86. How Springs Came First 12/31/2002
87. I Call And I Call 12/31/2002
88. Impossibilities: To His Friend 12/31/2002
89. Kissing Usury 12/31/2002
90. Life Is The Body's Light 12/31/2002
91. Litany To The Holy Spirit 1/4/2003
92. Loss From The Least 12/31/2002
93. Love Dislikes Nothing 12/31/2002
94. Love Lightly Pleased 12/31/2002
95. Love, What It Is 12/31/2002
96. Lovers How They Come And Part 12/31/2002
97. Man's Dying-Place Uncertain 12/31/2002
98. Matins, Or Morning Prayer 12/31/2002
99. Men Mind No State In Sickness 12/31/2002
100. Mirth 12/31/2002
101. Miseries 1/3/2003
102. Money Makes The Mirth 12/31/2002
103. Mrs Eliz: Wheeler, Under The Name Of Thelost Shepherdess 12/31/2002
104. No Fault In Women 12/31/2002
105. No Man Without Money 12/31/2002
106. No Pains, No Gains 12/31/2002
107. Not Every Day Fit For Verse 12/31/2002
108. Nothing Free-Cost 12/31/2002
109. Oberon's Feast 1/3/2003
110. Of Love: A Sonnet 12/31/2002
111. On A Perfumed Lady 12/31/2002
112. On Himself 12/31/2002
113. On Julia's Voice 1/3/2003
114. On Love 12/31/2002
115. Orpheus 12/31/2002
116. Pardons 12/31/2002
117. Peace Not Permanent 12/31/2002
118. Poverty And Riches 12/31/2002
119. Pray And Prosper 12/31/2002
120. Proof To No Purpose 1/3/2003
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

Upon Julia's Recovery

Droop, droop no more, or hang the head,
Ye roses almost withered;
Now strength, and newer purple get,
Each here declining violet.
O primroses! let this day be
A resurrection unto ye;
And to all flowers allied in blood,
Or sworn to that sweet sisterhood.
For health on Julia's cheek hath shed

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