And while the wood-nymphs my cold corpse inter,
Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister!
For epitaph, in foliage, next write this:
HERE, HERE THE TOMB OF ROBIN HERRICK IS!
Similar Posts
I have lost, and lately, these
Stately Julia, prime of all;Sapho next, a principal:Smooth Anthea, for a skinWhite, and heaven-like crystalline:Sweet Electra, and the choiceMyrha, for the lute and voice.Next, Corinna, for her wit,And the graceful use of it;With Perilla:–All are gone;Only Herrick’s left alone,For to number sorrow byTheir departures hence, and die.
Lord, thou hast given me a cell,
A little house, whose humble roofIs weather proof;Under the spars of which I lieBoth soft and dry;Where thou, my chamber for to ward,Hast set a guardOf harmless thoughts, to watch and keepMe, while I sleep.Low is my porch, as is my fate;Both void of state;And yet the threshold of my doorIs worn by th’ poor,Who…
From noise of scare-fires rest ye free
From all mischances that may frightYour pleasing slumbers in the nightMercy secure ye all, and keepThe goblin from ye, while ye sleep.–Past one a clock, and almost two,–My masters all, ‘Good day to you.’
A wearied pilgrim I have wander’d here,
Long I have lasted in this world; ’tis trueBut yet those years that I have lived, but few.Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres tell,Lives not those years, but he that lives them well:One man has reach’d his sixty years, but heOf all those three-score has not lived half three:He lives who lives to…
As is your name, so is your comely face
As that in all that admirable round,There is not one least solecism found;And as that part, so every portion elseKeeps line for line with beauty’s parallels.