Laugh And Lie Down.

Y'ave laughed enough, sweet, vary now your text!
And laugh no more; or laugh, and lie down next.

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 Honoured Friend, M. John Weare, Councillor.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To The Queen.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Evensong.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Dirge Of Jephthah's Daughter: Sung By The Virgin-Martyr

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Pidgin

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The End Of Laughter

O never laugh again!
Laughter is dead,
Deep hiding in her grave,
A sacred thing.
O never laugh again,
Never take hands and run
Through the wild streets,
Or sing,
Glad in the sun:
For she, the immortal sweetness of all sweets,
Took laughter with her
When she went away
With sleep.

O never laugh again!
Ours but to weep,
Ours but to pray.

Richard Le Gallienne

Laughter Holding Both His Sides

Ay, thou varlet! Laugh away!
All the world's a holiday!
Laugh away, and roar and shout
Till thy hoarse tongue lolleth out!
Bloat thy cheeks, and bulge thine eyes
Unto bursting; pelt thy thighs
With thy swollen palms, and roar
As thou never hast before!
Lustier! Wilt thou! Peal on peal!
Stiflest? Squat and grind thy heel -
Wrestle with thy loins, and then
Wheeze thee whiles, and whoop again!

James Whitcomb Riley

Tears And Laughter

Knew'st thou one month would take thy life away,
Thou'dst weep; but laugh, should it not last a day.

Robert Herrick

His Lachrymæ; Or, Mirth Turned To Mourning.

Call me no more,
As heretofore,
The music of a feast;
Since now, alas!
The mirth that was
In me is dead or ceas'd.

Before I went,
To banishment,
Into the loathed west,
I could rehearse
A lyric verse,
And speak it with the best.

But time, ay me!
Has laid, I see,
My organ fast asleep,
And turn'd my voice
Into the noise
Of those that sit and weep.

Robert Herrick

Rest Refreshes.

Lay by the good a while; a resting field
Will, after ease, a richer harvest yield;
Trees this year bear: next, they their wealth withhold:
Continual reaping makes a land wax old.

Robert Herrick

Fool-Youngens

Me an' Bert an' Minnie-Belle
Knows a joke, an' we won't tell!
No, we don't - 'cause we don't know
Why we got to laughin' so;
But we got to laughin' so,
    "We ist kep' a-laughin'.

Wind wuz blowin' in the tree -
An' wuz only ist us three
Playin' there; an' ever' one
Ketched each other, like we done,
Squintin' up there at the sun
    Like we wuz a-laughin'.

Nothin' funny anyway;
But I laughed, an' so did they -
An' we all three laughed, an' nen
Squint' our eyes an' laugh' again:
Ner we didn't ist p'ten' -
    We wuz shore-'nough laughin'.


"We ist laugh' an' laugh', tel Bert
Say he can't quit an' it hurt.
Nen I howl, an' Minnie-Belle
She tear up the grass a spell
An' ist sto...

James Whitcomb Riley