Cherry- Ripe - Poem by Robert Herrick
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.
Comments about Cherry- Ripe by Robert Herrick
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Read poems about / on: smile
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You