Robert Herrick Poems
|281.||A Thanksgiving To God, For His House||12/31/2002|
|282.||A Hymn To Venus And Cupid||12/31/2002|
|283.||A Vow To Venus||12/31/2002|
|284.||Delight In Disorder||12/31/2002|
|285.||A Child's Grace||1/4/2003|
|286.||Upon The Nipples Of Julia's Breast||1/13/2003|
|287.||A Hymn To Love||12/31/2002|
|290.||To The Virgins, Make Much Of Time||12/31/2002|
Comments about 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.
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