All Poems

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Upon Her Eyes

© Robert Herrick

Clear are her eyes,
Like purest skies;
Discovering from thence
A baby there
That turns each sphere,
Like an Intelligence.

To The Lady Crewe, Upon The Death Of Her Child

© Robert Herrick

Why, Madam, will ye longer weep,
Whenas your baby's lull'd asleep?
And, pretty child, feels now no more
Those pains it lately felt before.

To Laurels

© Robert Herrick

A funeral stone
Or verse, I covet none;
But only crave
Of you that I may have

Dreams

© Robert Herrick

Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.

The Ceremonies For Candlemas Day

© Robert Herrick

Kindle the Christmas brand, and then
Till sunset let it burn;
Which quench'd, then lay it up again,
Till Christmas next return.

To Julia

© Robert Herrick

Julia, when thy Herrick dies,
Close thou up thy poet's eyes;
And his last breath, let it be
Taken in by none but thee.

Of Love: A Sonnet

© Robert Herrick

How Love came in, I do not know,
Whether by th'eye, or ear, or no;
Or whether with the soul it came,
At first, infused with the same;

To Daffadils

© Robert Herrick

Fair Daffadils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon.

An Hymn To The Muses

© Robert Herrick

Honour to you who sit
Near to the well of wit,
And drink your fill of it!

To Daisies, Not To Shut So Soon

© Robert Herrick

Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night
Has not as yet begun
To make a seizure on the light,
Or to seal up the sun.

Upon The Nipples Of Julia's Breast

© Robert Herrick

Have ye beheld (with much delight)
A red rose peeping through a white?
Or else a cherry (double graced)
Within a lily? Centre placed?

The Funeral Rites Of The Rose

© Robert Herrick

The Rose was sick, and smiling died;
And, being to be sanctified,
About the bed, there sighing stood
The sweet and flowery sisterhood.

Corinna's Going A-Maying

© Robert Herrick

Get up, get up for shame! the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air!

The Argument Of His Book

© Robert Herrick

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,
Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers.
I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.

Poverty And Riches

Who with a little cannot be content,
Endures an everlasting punishment.

Divination By A Daffodil

When a daffodil I see,
Hanging down his head towards me,
Guess I may what I must be:
First, I shall decline my head;
Secondly, I shall be dead;
Lastly, safely buried.

The Coming Of Good Luck

So Good-Luck came, and on my roof did light,
Like noiseless snow, or as the dew of night;
Not all at once, but gently,--as the trees
Are by the sun-beams, tickled by degrees.

To Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

To The Virgins, To 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.

Upon Love:by Way Of Question And Answer

I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Like, and dislike ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye.