No Time In Eternity.

By hours we all live here; in Heaven is known
No spring of time, or time's succession.

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

The Hag.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Crosses.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To His Honoured Kinsman, Sir Richard Stone.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Casualties

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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Eternity

O years!and age!    farewell:
Behold I go,
Where I do know
Infinity to dwell.

And these mine eyes shall see
All times, how they
Are lost i' th' sea
Of vast eternity:

Where never moon shall sway
The stars; but she,
And night, shall be
Drown'd in one endless day.

Robert Herrick

Upon Time

Time was upon
The wing, to fly away;
And I call'd on
Him but awhile to stay;
But he'd be gone,
For aught that I could say.

He held out then
A writing, as he went,
And ask'd me, when
False man would be content
To pay again
What God and Nature lent.

An hour-glass,
In which were sands but few,
As he did pass,
He shew'd, and told me too
Mine end near was;
And so away he flew.

Robert Herrick

God's Time Must End Our Trouble.

God doth not promise here to man that He
Will free him quickly from his misery;
But in His own time, and when He thinks fit,
Then He will give a happy end to it.

Robert Herrick

To Enjoy The Time

While fates permit us, let's be merry;
Pass all we must the fatal ferry;
And this our life, too, whirls away,
With the rotation of the day.

Robert Herrick

Never Too Late To Die.

No man comes late unto that place from whence
Never man yet had a regredience.

Robert Herrick

Upon The Troublesome Times.

O times most bad,
Without the scope
Of hope
Of better to be had!

Where shall I go,
Or whither run
To shun
This public overthrow?

No places are,
This I am sure,
Secure
In this our wasting war.

Some storms we've past,
Yet we must all
Down fall,
And perish at the last.

Robert Herrick