poet Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick

#161 on top 500 poets

Cherry Ripe

Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come, and buy:
If so be you ask me where
They do grow? I answer, there
Where my Julia's lips do smile;--
There's the land, or cherry-isle;
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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Read poems about / on: smile