Robert Herrick (poet)

Here a little child I standOn our meat, and on us all.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,And go at last.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers:Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve:The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Bid me to live, and I will liveA loving heart to thee.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Bid me despair, and I'll despair,E'en Death, to die for thee.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,There's the land, or cherry-isle.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

If well thou hast begun, go on fore-right It is the end that crowns us, not the fight.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Some asked how pearls did grow, and where?The quarelets of pearl.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

A sweet disorder in the dressKindles in clothes a wantonness.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

A winning wave, deserving note,Is too precise in every part.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

You say to me-wards your affection's strong;Pray love me little, so you love me long.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Night makes no difference 'twixt the Priest and Clerk;Joan as my Lady is as good i' the dark.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score;Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,And nearer he's to setting.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Her pretty feet, like snails, did creepDid soon draw in again.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold;New things succeed, as former things grow old.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

We such clusters had Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;Nothing's so hard but search will find it out.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Before man's fall the rose was born, Without the fragrant rose-bud born; But ne'er the rose without the thorn.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

God doth not promise here to man that He Then He will give a happy end to it.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Get up, sweet Slug-a-bed, and seeThe dew bespangling herb and tree.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

'Tis sin,Nay, profanation to keep in.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

So when or you or I are madeLies drowned with us in endless night.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Then while time serves, and we are but decaying.Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,Oh how that glittering taketh me!

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Sweet, be not proud of those two eyesAll hearts your captives, yours yet free

— Robert Herrick (poet)

Art quickens nature; care will make a face; Neglected beauty perisheth apace.

— Robert Herrick (poet)