A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

“If little labour, little are our gains;Man's fortunes are according to his pains.””

— Robert Herrick

“LOVE DISLIKES NOTHING Whatsoever thing I see,Rich or poor although it be,”

— Robert Herrick

“HIS COVENANT OR PROTESTATION TO JULIA Why dost thou wound and break my heart,As if we should for ever part?Hast thou not heard an oath from me,After a day, or two, or three,I would come back and live with thee?Take, if thou dost distrust that vow,This second protestation now:”

— Robert Herrick

“THE ROCK OF RUBIES, AND THE QUARRY OF PEARLS Some ask'd me where the Rubies grew:And nothing I did say,But with my finger pointed toThe lips of Julia.Some ask'd how Pearls did grow, and where:Then spoke I to my girl,To part her lips, and shew me thereThe quarrelets of Pearl.””

— Robert Herrick

“HIS RETURN TO LONDON From the dull confines of the drooping west,To see the day spring from the pregnant east,Ravish'd in spirit, I come, nay more, I flyTo thee, blest place of my nativity!Thus, thus with hallow'd foot I touch the ground,With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd.O fruitful Genius! that bestowest hereAn everlasting plenty year by year;O place! O people! manners! framed to pleaseAll nations, customs, kindreds, languages!I am a free-born Roman; suffer thenThat I amongst you live a citizen.London my home is; though by hard fate sentInto a long and irksome banishment;Yet since call'd back, henceforward let me be,O native country, repossess'd by thee!For, rather than I'll to the west return,I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn.Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall;Give thou my sacred reliques burial.””

— Robert Herrick

“HIS CONTENT IN THE COUNTRY HERE, Here I live with what my boardCan with the smallest cost afford;Though ne'er so mean the viands be,They well content my Prue and me:Or pea or bean, or wort or beet,Whatever comes, Content makes sweet.Here we rejoice, because no rentWe pay for our poor tenement;Wherein we rest, and never fearThe landlord or the usurer.The quarter-day does ne'er affrightOur peaceful slumbers in the night:We eat our own, and batten more,Because we feed on no man's score;But pity those whose flanks grow great,Swell'd with the lard of other's meat.We bless our fortunes, when we seeOur own beloved privacy;And like our living, where we're knownTo very few, or else to none.””

— Robert Herrick

“Tears will spring where woes are deep.””

— Robert Herrick