Robert Herrick

And keep eternal fires,By which we sit, and do divine,As wineAnd rage inspires.If full, we charm; then call uponAnacreonTo grace the frantic Thyrse:And having drunk, we raise a shoutThroughout,To praise his verse.Then cause we Horace to be read,Which sung or said,A goblet, to the brim,Of lyric wine, both swell’d and crown’d,AroundWe quaff to him.Thus, thus…

And basket, by our entering in.May both with manchet stand replete;Your larders, too, so hung with meat,That though a thousand, thousand eat,Yet, ere twelve moons shall whirl aboutTheir silv’ry spheres, there’s none may doubtBut more’s sent in than was served out.Next, may your dairies prosper so,As that your pans no ebb may know;But if they…

Some one poor almshouse, there to lie, or stir,Ghost-like, as in my meaner sepulchre;A little piggin, and a pipkin by,To hold things fitting my necessity,Which, rightly us’d, both in their time and place,Might me excite to fore, and after, grace.Thy cross, my Christ, fix’d ‘fore mine eyes should be,Not to adore that, but to worship…

But unamazed dares clearly sing,Whenas the roof’s a-tottering;And though it falls, continues stillTickling the Cittern with his quill.

Tell me, said I, in deep distress,Where I may find my Shepherdess?–Thou fool, said Love, know’st thou not this?In every thing that’s sweet she is.In yond’ carnation go and seek,There thou shalt find her lip and cheek;In that enamell’d pansy by,There thou shalt have her curious eye;In bloom of peach and rose’s bud,There waves the…

The humour was, as I have read,But lovers’ tears incrystalled.Which, as they drop by drop do passFrom th’ upper to the under-glass,Do in a trickling manner tell,By many a watery syllable,That lovers’ tears in lifetime shedDo restless run when they are dead.

Thou pretty Baby, born here,With sup’rabundant scorn here;Who for thy princely port here,Hadst for thy placeOf birth, a baseOut-stable for thy court here.Instead of neat enclosuresOf interwoven osiers;Instead of fragrant posiesOf daffadils and roses,Thy cradle, kingly stranger,As gospel tells,Was nothing else,But, here, a homely manger.But we with silks, not cruels,With sundry precious jewels,And lily-work will…