All Poems

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How Pansies Or Hearts-ease Came First

© Robert Herrick

Frolic virgins once these were,
Overloving, living here;
Being here their ends denied
Ran for sweet-hearts mad, and died.

His Wish To Privacy

© Robert Herrick

Give me a cell
To dwell,
Where no foot hath
A path;

A Panegyric To Sir Lewis Pemberton

© Robert Herrick

Till I shall come again, let this suffice,
I send my salt, my sacrifice
To thee, thy lady, younglings, and as far
As to thy Genius and thy Lar;

A Hymn To Venus And Cupid

© Robert Herrick

Sea-born goddess, let me be
By thy son thus graced, and thee,
That whene'er I woo, I find
Virgins coy, but not unkind.

The Heart

© Robert Herrick

In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part
Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.

On Julia's Voice

© Robert Herrick

So smooth, so sweet, so silv'ry is thy voice,
As, could they hear, the Damned would make no noise,
But listen to thee (walking in thy chamber)
melting melodious words to Lutes of Amber.

The Good-night or Blessing

© Robert Herrick

Blessings in abundance come
To the bride and to her groom ;
May the bed and this short night
Know the fulness of delight !

To The Maids, To Walk Abroad

© Robert Herrick

Come, sit we under yonder tree,
Where merry as the maids we'll be;
And as on primroses we sit,
We'll venture, if we can, at wit;

The Wounded Cupid

© Robert Herrick

Cupid as he lay among
Roses, by a Bee was stung.
Whereupon in anger flying
To his Mother, said thus crying;

Rewards

© Robert Herrick

Still to our gains our chief respect is had ;
Reward it is that makes us good or bad.

On Love

© Robert Herrick

Love's of itself too sweet; the best of all
Is, when love's honey has a dash of gall.

The Apron Of Flowers

© Robert Herrick

To gather flowers, Sappha went,
And homeward she did bring
Within her lawny continent,
The treasure of the Spring.

Another

© Robert Herrick

HERE a pretty baby lies
Sung asleep with lullabies:
Pray be silent and not stir
Th' easy earth that covers her.

To The Willow-tree

© Robert Herrick

Thou art to all lost love the best,
The only true plant found,
Wherewith young men and maids distrest
And left of love, are crown'd.

The Fairies

If ye will with Mab find grace,
Set each platter in his place;
Rake the fire up, and get
Water in, ere sun be set.

Upon Tears

Tears, though they're here below the sinner's brine,
Above, they are the Angels' spiced wine.

To The Rose: Song

Go, happy Rose, and interwove
With other flowers, bind my Love.
Tell her, too, she must not be
Longer flowing, longer free,
That so oft has fetter'd me.

A Hymn To Bacchus

Bacchus, let me drink no more!
Wild are seas that want a shore!
When our drinking has no stint,
There is no one pleasure in't.

Barley-break; Or, Last In Hell

We two are last in hell; what may we fear
To be tormented or kept pris'ners here I
Alas! if kissing be of plagues the worst,
We'll wish in hell we had been last and first.

The Changes: To Corinna

Be not proud, but now incline
Your soft ear to discipline;
You have changes in your life,
Sometimes peace, and sometimes strife;