Car poems
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A Silence
© Amy Clampitt
behind the mask
the milkfat shivering
sinew isinglass
uncrumpling transient
greed to reinvest
A Hermit Thrush
© Amy Clampitt
Nothing's certain. Crossing, on this longest day,
the low-tide-uncovered isthmus, scrambling up
the scree-slope of what at high tide
will be again an island,
A Hedge Of Rubber Trees
© Amy Clampitt
The West Village by then was changing; before long
the rundown brownstones at its farthest edge
would have slipped into trendier hands. She lived,
impervious to trends, behind a potted hedge of
To Groves
© Robert Herrick
Ye silent shades, whose each tree here
Some relique of a saint doth wear;
Who for some sweet-heart's sake, did prove
The fire and martyrdom of Love:--
Anacreontic
© Robert Herrick
Born I was to be old,
And for to die here;
After that, in the mould
Long for to lie here.
His Age:dedicated To His Peculiar Friend,mr John Wickes, Under The Name Ofpostumus
© Robert Herrick
Ah, Posthumus! our years hence fly
And leave no sound: nor piety,
Or prayers, or vow
Can keep the wrinkle from the brow;
His Grange, Or Private Wealth
© Robert Herrick
Though clock,
To tell how night draws hence, I've none,
A cock
I have to sing how day draws on:
To Phillis, To Love And Live With Him
© Robert Herrick
Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.
A Pastoral Sung To The King
© Robert Herrick
MONTANO, SILVIO, AND MIRTILLO, SHEPHERDSMON. Bad are the times. SIL. And worse than they are we.
MON. Troth, bad are both; worse fruit, and ill the tree:
The feast of shepherds fail. SIL. None crowns the cup
Of wassail now, or sets the quintel up:
To The Genius Of His House
© Robert Herrick
Command the roof, great Genius, and from thence
Into this house pour down thy influence,
That through each room a golden pipe may run
Of living water by thy benizon;
A Paranaeticall, Or Advisive Verseto His Friend, Mr John Wicks
© Robert Herrick
Is this a life, to break thy sleep,
To rise as soon as day doth peep?
To tire thy patient ox or ass
By noon, and let thy good days pass,
A Country Life:to His Brother, Mr Thomas Herrick
© Robert Herrick
Thrice, and above, blest, my soul's half, art thou,
In thy both last and better vow;
Could'st leave the city, for exchange, to see
The country's sweet simplicity;
Mrs Eliz: Wheeler, Under The Name Of Thelost Shepherdess
© Robert Herrick
Among the myrtles as I walk'd
Love and my sighs thus intertalk'd:
Tell me, said I, in deep distress,
Where I may find my Shepherdess?
To Carnations: A Song
© Robert Herrick
Stay while ye will, or go,
And leave no scent behind ye:
Yet trust me, I shall know
The place where I may find ye.
The Parcae; Or, Three Dainty Destinies:the Armilet
© Robert Herrick
Three lovely sisters working were,
As they were closely set,
Of soft and dainty maiden-hair,
A curious Armilet.
His Meditation Upon Death
© Robert Herrick
BE those few hours, which I have yet to spend,
Blest with the meditation of my end;
Though they be few in number, I'm content;
If otherwise, I stand indifferent,
The Widows' Tears; Or, Dirge Of Dorcas
© Robert Herrick
Come pity us, all ye who see
Our harps hung on the willow-tree;
Come pity us, ye passers-by,
Who see or hear poor widows' cry;
To Music: A Song
© Robert Herrick
Music, thou queen of heaven, care-charming spell,
That strik'st a stillness into hell;
Thou that tam'st tigers, and fierce storms, that rise,
With thy soul-melting lullabies;
Fall down, down, down, from those thy chiming spheres
To charm our souls, as thou enchant'st our ears.
A Christmas Carol, Sung to the King in the Presence at White-Hall
© Robert Herrick
Voice 1:
Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honor to this Day,
That sees December turn'd to May.
The Hock-cart, or Harvest Home
© Robert Herrick
To the Right Honourable Mildmay, Earl of WestmorelandCome, sons of summer, by whose toil
We are the lords of wine and oil;
By whose tough labours, and rough hands,
We rip up first, then reap our lands.
