Robert Herrick

(1591-1674 / London / England)

Upon Julia's Voice - Poem by Robert Herrick

When I thy singing next shall hear,
I'll wish I might turn all to ear,
To drink-in notes and numbers, such
As blessed souls can't hear too much
Then melted down, there let me lie
Entranced, and lost confusedly;
And by thy music strucken mute,
Die, and be turn'd into a Lute.


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Read poems about / on: music, lost



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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