Robert Herrick Quotes

Only Herrick's left alone, For to number sorrow by Their departures hence and die.
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. Upon the Loss of His Mistresses (l. 12-14). . . Norton Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. M. H. Abrams, general ed. (5th ed., 1986) W. W. Norton & Company.
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When the rose reigns, and locks with ointments shine, Let rigid Cato read these lines of mine.
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. When He Would Have His Verses Read (l. 9-10). . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse;
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. When He Would Have His Verses Read (l. 1-2). . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.
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You are the Queen all flowers among, But die you must (faire Maid) ere long, As He, the maker of this Song.
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. A Meditation for His Mistress (l. 19-21). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
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Or a sigh of such as bring Cowslips for her covering.
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. An Epitaph upon a Virgin (l. 5-6). . . Oxford Book of Light Verse, The. W. H. Auden, ed. (1938) Oxford University Press.
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Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad; And yet each verse of thine Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. An Ode for Ben Jonson (l. 7-10). . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.
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And to your more bewitching, see the proud, Plump bed bear up, and swelling like a cloud, Tempting the two too modest; can Ye see it brustle like a swan, And you be cold To meet it when it woos and seems to fold The arms to hug you? Throw, throw Yourselves into the mighty overflow Of that white pride, and drown The night with you in floods of down.
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. A Nuptial Song, or Epithalamie, on Sir Clipseby Crew and His Lady (l. 111-120). . . Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: 1600-1660; Vol. II: 1660-1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.
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See where she comes, and smell how all the street, Breathes vineyards and pomegranates: oh, how sweet! As a fired altar is each stone, Perspiring pounded cinnamon. The phoenix-nest, Built up of odours, burneth in her breast. Who therein would not consume His soul to ash-heaps in that rich perfume,
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. A Nuptial Song, or Epithalamie, on Sir Clipseby Crew and His Lady (l. 21-28). . . Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: 1600-1660; Vol. II: 1660-1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.
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A little meat best fits a little belly, As sweetly Lady, give me leave to tell ye, This little Pipkin fits this little Jelly.
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. A Ternarie of Littles, upon a Pipkin of Jellie Sent to a Lady (l. 16-18). . . Faber Book of Children's Verse, The. Janet Adam Smith, comp. (1953; paperback 1963) Faber and Faber.
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Lord, Thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell; And little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof;
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), British poet. A Thanksgiving to God for His House (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.
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