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Posts Tagged ‘Robert Herrick’

Come thou, who art the wine and wit
Of all I’ve writ;
The grace, the glory, and the best
Piece of the rest;
Thou art of what I did intend
The All, and End;
And what was made, was made to meet.
Thee, thee my sheet.
Come then, and be to my chaste side
Both bed and bride.
We two, as reliques left, will have
One rest, one grave;
And, hugging close, we need not fear
Lust entering here,
Where all desires are dead or cold,
As is the mould;
And all affections are forgot,
Or trouble not.
Here, here the slaves and prisoners be
From shackles free;
And weeping widows, long opprest,
Do here find rest.
The wronged client ends his laws
Here, and his cause;
Here those long suits of Chancery lie
Quiet, or die;
And all Star-chamber bills do cease,
Or hold their peace.
Here needs no court for our Request
Where all are best;
All wise, all equal, and all just
Alike i’th’ dust.
Nor need we here to fear the frown
Of court or crown;
Where fortune bears no sway o’er things,
There all are kings.
In this securer place we’ll keep,
As lull’d asleep;
Or for a little time we’ll lie,
As robes laid by,
To be another day re-worn,
Turn’d, but not torn;
Or like old testaments engrost,
Lock’d up, not lost;
And for a-while lie here conceal’d,
To be reveal’d
Next, at that great Platonic year,
And then meet here. 

 

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Wrinkles are no more or no less
Than beauty turned to sourness.

 

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Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
…..And the elves also,
…..Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. 

No Will-o’-th’-Wisp mislight thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
…..But on, on thy way,
…..Not making a stay,
Since ghost there’s none to affright thee. 

Let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber?
…..The stars of the night
…..Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number. 

Then Julia let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
…..And when I shall meet
…..Thy silv’ry feet,
My soul I’ll pour into thee. 

 

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Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes, and see
That brave vibration each way free,
Oh, how that glittering taketh me!

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Have, have ye no regard, all ye
Who pass this way, to pity me,
Who am a man of misery! 

A man both bruised, and broke, and one
Who suffers not here for mine own,
But for my friends transgression! 

Ah! Sion’s Daughters, do not fear
The Cross, the Cords, the Nails, the Spear,
The Myrrh, the Gall, the Vinegar: 

For Christ, your loving Savior, hath
Drunk up the wine of God’s fierce wrath;
Only, there’s left a little froth, 

Less for to taste, than for to show,
What bitter cups had been your due,
Had He not drank them up for you.

 

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    Delight In Disorder

A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthralls the crimson stomacher:
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly:
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat:
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.

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"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may"

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

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. 

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
   The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
   And nearer he’s to setting. 

That age is best, which is the first,
   When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse and worst
   Times will succeed the former. 

Then be not coy, but use your time,
   And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
   You may for ever tarry.

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