Large Bounds Do But Bury Us.

All things o'er-ruled are here by chance:
The greatest man's inheritance,
Where'er the lucky lot doth fall,
Serves but for place of burial.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

To His Angry God.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To Bianca.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To His Book.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To M. Laurence Swetnaham.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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Burial

Man may want land to live in; but for all
Nature finds out some place for burial.

Robert Herrick

On Himself.

If that my fate has now fulfill'd my year,
And so soon stopt my longer living here;
What was't, ye gods, a dying man to save,
But while he met with his paternal grave!
Though while we living 'bout the world do roam,
We love to rest in peaceful urns at home,
Where we may snug, and close together lie
By the dead bones of our dear ancestry.

Robert Herrick

On Himself.

Some parts may perish, die thou canst not all:
The most of thee shall 'scape the funeral.

Robert Herrick

Few Fortunate.

Many we are, and yet but few possess
Those fields of everlasting happiness.

Robert Herrick

Loss From The Least

Great men by small means oft are overthrown;
He's lord of thy life, who contemns his own.

Robert Herrick

Upon Himself Being Buried.

Let me sleep this night away,
Till the dawning of the day;
Then at th' opening of mine eyes
I, and all the world, shall rise.

Robert Herrick