Selections from the Poetry of Robert Herrick

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Ginn, 1895 - 200 pages
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Page 34 - 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 still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For, having...
Page 34 - That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still 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.
Page 26 - And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin, Nay, profanation to keep in, Whenas a thousand virgins on this day Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.
Page 25 - Above an hour since, yet you not drest; Nay! not so much as out of bed? When all the birds have matins said And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin, Nay...
Page 26 - As if here were those cooler shades of love. Can such delights be in the street And open fields and we not see't? Come, we'll abroad; and let's obey The proclamation made for May: And sin no more, as we have done, by staying; But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.
Page 101 - Since ghost there is 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.
Page 82 - Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth. And lose you quite. But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'er so brave : And after they have shown their pride Like you, awhile, they glide Into the grave.
Page 82 - TO BLOSSOMS FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast ? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here awhile, To blush and gently smile, And go at last. What, were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good-night?
Page 51 - About the cart hear how the rout Of rural younglings raise the shout, Pressing before, some coming after, Those with a shout, and these with laughter. Some bless the cart, some kiss the sheaves, Some prank them up with oaken leaves...
Page 27 - Come, let us go while we are in our prime, And take the harmless folly of the time We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty. Our life is short, and our days run As fast away as does the sun; And as a vapour or a drop of rain Once lost, can ne'er be found again; So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade, All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night.

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