All Poems

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To His Sweet Saviour

© Robert Herrick

Night hath no wings to him that cannot sleep;
And Time seems then not for to fly, but creep;
Slowly her chariot drives, as if that she
Had broke her wheel, or crack'd her axletree.

The Cruel Maid

© Robert Herrick

--AND, cruel maid, because I see
You scornful of my love, and me,
I'll trouble you no more, but go
My way, where you shall never know

Casualties

© Robert Herrick

Good things, that come of course, far less do please
Than those which come by sweet contingencies.

To Music, To Becalm His Fever

© Robert Herrick

Charm me asleep, and melt me so
With thy delicious numbers;
That being ravish'd, hence I go
Away in easy slumbers.

To Enjoy The Time

© Robert Herrick

While fates permit us, let's be merry;
Pass all we must the fatal ferry;
And this our life, too, whirls away,
With the rotation of the day.

The Present; Or, The Bag Of The Bee:

Fly to my mistress, pretty pilfering bee,
And say thou bring'st this honey-bag from me;
When on her lip thou hast thy sweet dew placed,
Mark if her tongue but slyly steal a taste;
If so, we live; if not, with mournful hum,
Toll forth my death; next, to my burial come.

The Invitation

© Robert Herrick

To sup with thee thou didst me home invite,
And mad'st a promise that mine appetite
Should meet and tire, on such lautitious meat,
The like not Heliogabalus did eat:

A Dialogue Betwixt Himself And Mistress Elizawheeler, Under The Name Of Amarillis

© Robert Herrick

My dearest Love, since thou wilt go,
And leave me here behind thee;
For love or pity, let me know
The place where I may find thee.

Up Scoble

© Robert Herrick

Scobble for whoredom whips his wife and cries
He'll slit her nose; but blubbering she replies,
"Good sir, make no more cuts i' th' outward skin,
One slit's enough to let adultery in.

Anthea's Retractation

© Robert Herrick

Anthea laugh'd, and, fearing lest excess
Might stretch the cords of civil comeliness
She with a dainty blush rebuked her face,
And call'd each line back to his rule and space.

The Wake

© Robert Herrick

Come, Anthea, let us two
Go to feast, as others do:
Tarts and custards, creams and cakes,
Are the junkets still at wakes;

Satisfaction For Sufferings

© Robert Herrick

For all our works a recompence is sure;
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure

Upon Time

© Robert Herrick

Time was upon
The wing, to fly away;
And I call'd on
Him but awhile to stay;
But he'd be gone,
For aught that I could say.

Men Mind No State In Sickness

© Robert Herrick

That flow of gallants which approach
To kiss thy hand from out the coach;
That fleet of lackeys which do run
Before thy swift postilion;

An Epitaph Upon A Child

Virgins promised when I died,
That they would each primrose-tide
Duly, morn and evening, come,
And with flowers dress my tomb.
--Having promised, pay your debts
Maids, and here strew violets.

Writing

When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.

The Bracelet To Julia

Why I tie about thy wrist,
Julia, this my silken twist?
For what other reason is't,
But to shew thee how in part

Upon Himself

Thou shalt not all die; for while Love's fire shines
Upon his altar, men shall read thy lines;
And learn'd musicians shall, to honour Herrick's
Fame, and his name, both set and sing his lyrics.

To Dianeme

I could but see thee yesterday
Stung by a fretful bee;
And I the javelin suck'd away,
And heal'd the wound in thee.

The Primrose

Ask me why I send you here
This sweet Infanta of the year?
Ask me why I send to you
This Primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew?
I will whisper to your ears,--
The sweets of love are mixt with tears.