Robert Herrick

Only a little moreI have to write:
Then I'll give o'er,
And bid the world good-night
'Tis but a flying minute,

When I a verse shall make,
Know I have pray'd thee,
For old religion's sake,
Saint Ben to aid me

What needs complaints,
When she a
Has with the
Of saints

In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me

From the dull confines of the drooping
To see the day spring from the pregnant east,
Ravish'd in spirit,
I come, nay more,

Down with the rosemary and bays,
Down with the misletoe;
Instead of holly, now
The greener box, for show

For those my unbaptized rhymes,
Writ in my wild unhallowed times,
For every sentence, clause, and word,
That's not inlaid with Thee, my Lord,

Ah Ben
Say how, or when Shall we thy guests Meet at those lyric feasts Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun
Where we such clusters had As made us nobly wild, not mad; And yet each verse of
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine...

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn
See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air; Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see The dew bespangling herb and tree
Each flower has...

RE a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand;
Cold as paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee,
For a benison to fall On our meat and on us all

Be my mistress short or tall And distorted therewithall Be she likewise one of those That an acre hath of nose Be her teeth ill hung or set And her grinders black as jet Be her cheeks so shallow too As to show her tongue wag through Hath she thin ...

Here we are all, by day; by night we're
By dreams, each one into a several world