{"id":27,"date":"2021-06-04T11:27:15","date_gmt":"2021-06-04T15:27:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/poetryandpoetics2024\/chapter\/robert-herrick\/"},"modified":"2024-08-08T15:53:47","modified_gmt":"2024-08-08T19:53:47","slug":"robert-herrick","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/poetryandpoetics2024\/chapter\/robert-herrick\/","title":{"raw":"Robert Herrick","rendered":"Robert Herrick"},"content":{"raw":"

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time<\/h1>\nGather ye rose-buds while ye may,\nOld Time is still a-flying;\nAnd this same flower that smiles today\nTomorrow will be dying.\n\nThe glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,\nThe higher he\u2019s a-getting,\nThe sooner will his race be run,\nAnd nearer he\u2019s to setting.\n\nThat age is best which is the first,\nWhen youth and blood are warmer;\nBut being spent, the worse, and worst\nTimes still succeed the former.\n\nThen be not coy, but use your time,\nAnd while ye may, go marry;\nFor having lost but once your prime,\nYou may forever tarry.\n

Delight in Disorder<\/h1>\nA sweet disorder in the dress\nKindles in clothes a wantonness;\nA lawn about the shoulders thrown\nInto a fine distraction;\nAn erring lace, which here and there\nEnthrals the crimson stomacher;\nA cuff neglectful, and thereby\nRibands to flow confusedly;\nA winning wave, deserving note,\nIn the tempestuous petticoat;\nA careless shoe-string, in whose tie\nI see a wild civility:\nDo more bewitch me, than when art\nIs too precise in every part.\n

Upon Julia\u2019s Clothes<\/h1>\nWhenas in silks my Julia goes,\nThen, then (methinks) how sweetly flows\nThat liquefaction of her clothes.\n\nNext, when I cast mine eyes, and see\nThat brave vibration each way free,\nO how that glittering taketh me!\n

Corinna\u2019s Going A-Maying<\/h1>\nGet up, get up for shame, the Blooming Morne\nUpon her wings presents the god unshorne.\nSee how\u00a0Aurora<\/em>\u00a0throwes her faire\nFresh-quilted colours through the aire:\nGet up, sweet-Slug-a-bed, and see\nThe Dew-bespangling Herbe and Tree.\nEach Flower has wept, and bow'd toward the East,\nAbove an houre since; yet you not drest,\nNay! not so much as out of bed?\nWhen all the Birds have Mattens seyd,\nAnd sung their thankful Hymnes: 'tis sin,\nNay, profanation to keep in,\nWhen as a thousand Virgins on this day,\nSpring, sooner than the Lark, to fetch in May.\n\nRise; and put on your Foliage, and be seene\nTo come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and greene;\nAnd sweet as\u00a0Flora<\/em>. Take no care\nFor Jewels for your Gowne, or Haire:\nFeare not; the leaves will strew\nGemms in abundance upon you:\nBesides, the childhood of the Day has kept,\nAgainst you come, some\u00a0Orient Pearls<\/em>\u00a0unwept:\nCome, and receive them while the light\nHangs on the Dew-locks of the night:\nAnd\u00a0Titan<\/em>\u00a0on the Eastern hill\nRetires himselfe, or else stands still\nTill you come forth. Wash, dresse, be briefe in praying:\nFew Beads are best, when once we goe a Maying.\n\nCome, my\u00a0Corinna<\/em>, come; and comming, marke\nHow each field turns a street; each street a Parke\nMade green, and trimm'd with trees: see how\nDevotion gives each House a Bough,\nOr Branch: Each Porch, each doore, ere this,\nAn Arke a Tabernacle is\nMade up of white-thorn neatly enterwove;\nAs if here were those cooler shades of love.\nCan such delights be in the street,\nAnd open fields, and we not see't?\nCome, we'll abroad; and let's obay\nThe Proclamation made for May:\nAnd sin no more, as we have done, by staying;\nBut my\u00a0Corinna<\/em>, come, let's goe a Maying.\n\nThere's not a budding Boy, or Girle, this day,\nBut is got up, and gone to bring in May.\nA deale of Youth, ere this, is come\nBack, and with\u00a0White-thorn<\/em>\u00a0laden home.\nSome have dispatcht their Cakes and Creame,\nBefore that we have left to dreame:\nAnd some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted Troth,\nAnd chose their Priest, ere we can cast off sloth:\nMany a green-gown has been given;\nMany a kisse, both odde and even:\nMany a glance too has been sent\nFrom out the eye, Loves Firmament:\nMany a jest told of the Keyes betraying\nThis night, and Locks pickt, yet w'are not a Maying.\n\nCome, let us goe, while we are in our prime;\nAnd take the harmlesse follie of the time.\nWe shall grow old apace, and die\nBefore we know our liberty.\nOur life is short; and our dayes run\nAs fast away as do's the Sunne:\nAnd as a vapour, or a drop of raine\nOnce lost, can ne'r be found againe:\nSo when or you or I are made\nA fable, song, or fleeting shade;\nAll love, all liking, all delight\nLies drown'd with us in endlesse night.\nThen while time serves, and we are but decaying;\nCome, my\u00a0Corinna<\/em>, come, let's goe a Maying.\n

To Anthea, Who May Command him Anything<\/h1>\nBid me to live, and I will live\nThy protestant to be;\nOr bid me love, and I will give\nA loving heart to thee.\n\nA heart as soft, a heart as kind,\nA heart as sound and free,\nAs in the whole world thou canst find,\nThat heart I'll give to thee.\n\nBid that heart stay, and it will stay,\nTo honour thy decree;\nOr bid it languish quite away,\nAnd 't shall do so for thee.\n\nBid me to weep, and I will weep,\nWhile I have eyes to see;\nAnd having none, yet I will keep\nA heart to weep for thee.\n\nBid me despair, and I'll despair,\nUnder that cypress tree;\nOr bid me die, and I will dare\nE'en death, to die for thee.\n\nThou art my life, my love, my heart,\nThe very eyes of me;\nAnd hast command of every part,\nTo live and die for thee.\n

The Night Piece: To Julia<\/h1>\nHer eyes the glow-worm lend thee,\nThe shooting stars attend thee;\nAnd the elves also,\nWhose little eyes glow\nLike the sparks of fire, befriend thee.\n\nNo Will-o'-th'-Wisp mis-light thee,\nNor snake or slow-worm bite thee;\nBut on, on thy way,\nNot making a stay,\nSince ghost there's none to affright thee.\n\nLet not the dark thee cumber;\nWhat though the moon does slumber?\nThe stars of the night\nWill lend thee their light,\nLike tapers clear without number.\n\nThen Julia let me woo thee,\nThus, thus to come unto me;\nAnd when I shall meet\nThy silv'ry feet,\nMy soul I'll pour into thee.\n

The Argument of his Book<\/h1>\nI sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,\nOf April, May, of June, and July flowers.\nI sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,\nOf bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.\nI write of youth, of love, and have access\nBy these to sing of cleanly wantonness.\nI sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece\nOf balm, of oil, of spice, and ambergris.\nI sing of Time's trans-shifting; and I write\nHow roses first came red, and lilies white.\nI write of groves, of twilights, and I sing\nThe court of Mab, and of the fairy king.\nI write of Hell; I sing (and ever shall)\nOf Heaven, and hope to have it after all.\n

His Farewell to Sack<\/h1>\nFarewell thou thing, time past so known, so dear\nTo me as blood to life and spirit; near,\nNay, thou more near than kindred, friend, man, wife,\nMale to the female, soul to body; life\nTo quick action, or the warm soft side\nOf the resigning, yet resisting bride.\nThe kiss of virgins, first fruits of the bed,\nSoft speech, smooth touch, the lips, the maidenhead :\nThese and a thousand sweets could never be\nSo near or dear as thou wast once to me.\nO thou, the drink of gods and angels! wine\nThat scatter'st spirit and lust, whose purest shine\nMore radiant than the summer's sunbeam shows;\nEach way illustrious, brave, and like to those\nComets we see by night, whose shagg'd portents\nForetell the coming of some dire events,\nOr some full flame which with a pride aspires,\nThrowing about his wild and active fires;\n'Tis thou, above nectar, O divinest soul !\nEternal in thyself, that can'st control\nThat which subverts whole nature, grief and care,\nVexation of the mind, and damn'd despair.\n'Tis thou alone who, with thy mystic fan,\nWorkst more than wisdom, art, or nature can\nTo rouse the sacred madness and awake\nThe frost-bound blood and spirits, and to make\nThem frantic with thy raptures flashing through\nThe soul like lightning, and as active too.\n'Tis not Apollo can, or those thrice three\nCastalian sisters, sing, if wanting thee.\nHorace, Anacreon, both had lost their fame,\nHads't thou not fill'd them with thy fire and flame.\nPhoebean splendour! and thou, Thespian spring!\nOf which sweet swans must drink before they sing\nTheir true pac'd numbers and their holy lays,\nWhich makes them worthy cedar and the bays.\nBut why, why longer do I gaze upon\nThee with the eye of admiration?\nSince I must leave thee, and enforc'd must say\nTo all thy witching beauties, Go away.\nBut if thy whimpering looks do ask me why,\nThen know that nature bids thee go, not I.\n'Tis her erroneous self has made a brain\nUncapable of such a sovereign\nAs is thy powerful self. \u00a0 Prithee not smile,\nOr smile more inly, lest thy looks beguile\nMy vows denounc'd in zeal, which thus much show thee\nThat I have sworn but by thy looks to know thee.\nLet others drink thee freely, and desire\nThee and their lips espous'd, while I admire\nAnd love thee, but not taste thee. Let my muse\nFail of thy former helps, and only use\nHer inadultrate strength: what's done by me\nHereafter shall smell of the lamp, not thee.\n\n \n\n
\n\n

Sources<\/h2>\n\"To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time\" by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.\n\n\"Delight in Disorder\" by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.\n\n\"Upon Julia's Clothes\" by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.\u00a0<\/span>\n\n\"Corinna\u2019s Going A-Maying\" by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span>\n\n\"To Anthea, Who May Command him Anything\" by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span>\n\n\"The Night Piece: To Julia\" by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span>\n\n\"The Argument of his Book\" by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span>\n\n\"His Farewell to Sack\" by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span>\n\n ","rendered":"

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time<\/h1>\n

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
\nOld Time is still a-flying;
\nAnd this same flower that smiles today
\nTomorrow will be dying.<\/p>\n

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
\nThe higher he\u2019s a-getting,
\nThe sooner will his race be run,
\nAnd nearer he\u2019s to setting.<\/p>\n

That age is best which is the first,
\nWhen youth and blood are warmer;
\nBut being spent, the worse, and worst
\nTimes still succeed the former.<\/p>\n

Then be not coy, but use your time,
\nAnd while ye may, go marry;
\nFor having lost but once your prime,
\nYou may forever tarry.<\/p>\n

Delight in Disorder<\/h1>\n

A sweet disorder in the dress
\nKindles in clothes a wantonness;
\nA lawn about the shoulders thrown
\nInto a fine distraction;
\nAn erring lace, which here and there
\nEnthrals the crimson stomacher;
\nA cuff neglectful, and thereby
\nRibands to flow confusedly;
\nA winning wave, deserving note,
\nIn the tempestuous petticoat;
\nA careless shoe-string, in whose tie
\nI see a wild civility:
\nDo more bewitch me, than when art
\nIs too precise in every part.<\/p>\n

Upon Julia\u2019s Clothes<\/h1>\n

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
\nThen, then (methinks) how sweetly flows
\nThat liquefaction of her clothes.<\/p>\n

Next, when I cast mine eyes, and see
\nThat brave vibration each way free,
\nO how that glittering taketh me!<\/p>\n

Corinna\u2019s Going A-Maying<\/h1>\n

Get up, get up for shame, the Blooming Morne
\nUpon her wings presents the god unshorne.
\nSee how\u00a0Aurora<\/em>\u00a0throwes her faire
\nFresh-quilted colours through the aire:
\nGet up, sweet-Slug-a-bed, and see
\nThe Dew-bespangling Herbe and Tree.
\nEach Flower has wept, and bow’d toward the East,
\nAbove an houre since; yet you not drest,
\nNay! not so much as out of bed?
\nWhen all the Birds have Mattens seyd,
\nAnd sung their thankful Hymnes: ’tis sin,
\nNay, profanation to keep in,
\nWhen as a thousand Virgins on this day,
\nSpring, sooner than the Lark, to fetch in May.<\/p>\n

Rise; and put on your Foliage, and be seene
\nTo come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and greene;
\nAnd sweet as\u00a0Flora<\/em>. Take no care
\nFor Jewels for your Gowne, or Haire:
\nFeare not; the leaves will strew
\nGemms in abundance upon you:
\nBesides, the childhood of the Day has kept,
\nAgainst you come, some\u00a0Orient Pearls<\/em>\u00a0unwept:
\nCome, and receive them while the light
\nHangs on the Dew-locks of the night:
\nAnd\u00a0Titan<\/em>\u00a0on the Eastern hill
\nRetires himselfe, or else stands still
\nTill you come forth. Wash, dresse, be briefe in praying:
\nFew Beads are best, when once we goe a Maying.<\/p>\n

Come, my\u00a0Corinna<\/em>, come; and comming, marke
\nHow each field turns a street; each street a Parke
\nMade green, and trimm’d with trees: see how
\nDevotion gives each House a Bough,
\nOr Branch: Each Porch, each doore, ere this,
\nAn Arke a Tabernacle is
\nMade up of white-thorn neatly enterwove;
\nAs if here were those cooler shades of love.
\nCan such delights be in the street,
\nAnd open fields, and we not see’t?
\nCome, we’ll abroad; and let’s obay
\nThe Proclamation made for May:
\nAnd sin no more, as we have done, by staying;
\nBut my\u00a0Corinna<\/em>, come, let’s goe a Maying.<\/p>\n

There’s not a budding Boy, or Girle, this day,
\nBut is got up, and gone to bring in May.
\nA deale of Youth, ere this, is come
\nBack, and with\u00a0White-thorn<\/em>\u00a0laden home.
\nSome have dispatcht their Cakes and Creame,
\nBefore that we have left to dreame:
\nAnd some have wept, and woo’d, and plighted Troth,
\nAnd chose their Priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
\nMany a green-gown has been given;
\nMany a kisse, both odde and even:
\nMany a glance too has been sent
\nFrom out the eye, Loves Firmament:
\nMany a jest told of the Keyes betraying
\nThis night, and Locks pickt, yet w’are not a Maying.<\/p>\n

Come, let us goe, while we are in our prime;
\nAnd take the harmlesse follie of the time.
\nWe shall grow old apace, and die
\nBefore we know our liberty.
\nOur life is short; and our dayes run
\nAs fast away as do’s the Sunne:
\nAnd as a vapour, or a drop of raine
\nOnce lost, can ne’r be found againe:
\nSo when or you or I are made
\nA fable, song, or fleeting shade;
\nAll love, all liking, all delight
\nLies drown’d with us in endlesse night.
\nThen while time serves, and we are but decaying;
\nCome, my\u00a0Corinna<\/em>, come, let’s goe a Maying.<\/p>\n

To Anthea, Who May Command him Anything<\/h1>\n

Bid me to live, and I will live
\nThy protestant to be;
\nOr bid me love, and I will give
\nA loving heart to thee.<\/p>\n

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
\nA heart as sound and free,
\nAs in the whole world thou canst find,
\nThat heart I’ll give to thee.<\/p>\n

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
\nTo honour thy decree;
\nOr bid it languish quite away,
\nAnd ‘t shall do so for thee.<\/p>\n

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
\nWhile I have eyes to see;
\nAnd having none, yet I will keep
\nA heart to weep for thee.<\/p>\n

Bid me despair, and I’ll despair,
\nUnder that cypress tree;
\nOr bid me die, and I will dare
\nE’en death, to die for thee.<\/p>\n

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
\nThe very eyes of me;
\nAnd hast command of every part,
\nTo live and die for thee.<\/p>\n

The Night Piece: To Julia<\/h1>\n

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
\nThe shooting stars attend thee;
\nAnd the elves also,
\nWhose little eyes glow
\nLike the sparks of fire, befriend thee.<\/p>\n

No Will-o’-th’-Wisp mis-light thee,
\nNor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
\nBut on, on thy way,
\nNot making a stay,
\nSince ghost there’s none to affright thee.<\/p>\n

Let not the dark thee cumber;
\nWhat though the moon does slumber?
\nThe stars of the night
\nWill lend thee their light,
\nLike tapers clear without number.<\/p>\n

Then Julia let me woo thee,
\nThus, thus to come unto me;
\nAnd when I shall meet
\nThy silv’ry feet,
\nMy soul I’ll pour into thee.<\/p>\n

The Argument of his Book<\/h1>\n

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,
\nOf April, May, of June, and July flowers.
\nI sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
\nOf bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.
\nI write of youth, of love, and have access
\nBy these to sing of cleanly wantonness.
\nI sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece
\nOf balm, of oil, of spice, and ambergris.
\nI sing of Time’s trans-shifting; and I write
\nHow roses first came red, and lilies white.
\nI write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
\nThe court of Mab, and of the fairy king.
\nI write of Hell; I sing (and ever shall)
\nOf Heaven, and hope to have it after all.<\/p>\n

His Farewell to Sack<\/h1>\n

Farewell thou thing, time past so known, so dear
\nTo me as blood to life and spirit; near,
\nNay, thou more near than kindred, friend, man, wife,
\nMale to the female, soul to body; life
\nTo quick action, or the warm soft side
\nOf the resigning, yet resisting bride.
\nThe kiss of virgins, first fruits of the bed,
\nSoft speech, smooth touch, the lips, the maidenhead :
\nThese and a thousand sweets could never be
\nSo near or dear as thou wast once to me.
\nO thou, the drink of gods and angels! wine
\nThat scatter’st spirit and lust, whose purest shine
\nMore radiant than the summer’s sunbeam shows;
\nEach way illustrious, brave, and like to those
\nComets we see by night, whose shagg’d portents
\nForetell the coming of some dire events,
\nOr some full flame which with a pride aspires,
\nThrowing about his wild and active fires;
\n‘Tis thou, above nectar, O divinest soul !
\nEternal in thyself, that can’st control
\nThat which subverts whole nature, grief and care,
\nVexation of the mind, and damn’d despair.
\n‘Tis thou alone who, with thy mystic fan,
\nWorkst more than wisdom, art, or nature can
\nTo rouse the sacred madness and awake
\nThe frost-bound blood and spirits, and to make
\nThem frantic with thy raptures flashing through
\nThe soul like lightning, and as active too.
\n‘Tis not Apollo can, or those thrice three
\nCastalian sisters, sing, if wanting thee.
\nHorace, Anacreon, both had lost their fame,
\nHads’t thou not fill’d them with thy fire and flame.
\nPhoebean splendour! and thou, Thespian spring!
\nOf which sweet swans must drink before they sing
\nTheir true pac’d numbers and their holy lays,
\nWhich makes them worthy cedar and the bays.
\nBut why, why longer do I gaze upon
\nThee with the eye of admiration?
\nSince I must leave thee, and enforc’d must say
\nTo all thy witching beauties, Go away.
\nBut if thy whimpering looks do ask me why,
\nThen know that nature bids thee go, not I.
\n‘Tis her erroneous self has made a brain
\nUncapable of such a sovereign
\nAs is thy powerful self. \u00a0 Prithee not smile,
\nOr smile more inly, lest thy looks beguile
\nMy vows denounc’d in zeal, which thus much show thee
\nThat I have sworn but by thy looks to know thee.
\nLet others drink thee freely, and desire
\nThee and their lips espous’d, while I admire
\nAnd love thee, but not taste thee. Let my muse
\nFail of thy former helps, and only use
\nHer inadultrate strength: what’s done by me
\nHereafter shall smell of the lamp, not thee.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Sources<\/h2>\n

“To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time” by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/p>\n

“Delight in Disorder” by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/p>\n

“Upon Julia’s Clothes” by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

“Corinna\u2019s Going A-Maying” by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n

“To Anthea, Who May Command him Anything” by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n

“The Night Piece: To Julia” by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n

“The Argument of his Book” by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n

“His Farewell to Sack” by Robert Herrick is in the public domain. This version was retrieved from Poetry Foundation<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n

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