Pains Without Profit.

A long life's-day I've taken pains
For very little, or no gains;
The evening's come, here now I'll stop,
And work no more, but shut up shop.

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 Brother, Nicholas Herrick.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Judgment-Day.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

A Conjuration To Electra

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon Her Weeping.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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No Pains, No Gains

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

Robert Herrick

Pain And Pleasure.

God suffers not His saints and servants dear
To have continual pain or pleasure here;
But look how night succeeds the day, so He
Gives them by turns their grief and jollity.

Robert Herrick

Pain Ends In Pleasure.

Afflictions bring us joy in times to come,
When sins, by stripes, to us grow wearisome.

Robert Herrick

Rest.

On with thy work, though thou be'st hardly press'd:
Labour is held up by the hope of rest.

Robert Herrick

Satisfaction For Suffering

For all our works a recompence is sure;
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure.

Robert Herrick

A Paraneaticall Or Advice Verse To His Friend, Mr John Wicks

Is this a life, to break thy sleep,
To rise as soon as day doth peep?
To tire thy patient ox or ass
By noon, and let thy good days pass,
Not knowing this, that Jove decrees
Some mirth, t' adulce man's miseries?
No; 'tis a life to have thine oil
Without extortion from thy soil;
Thy faithful fields to yield thee grain,
Although with some, yet little pain;
To have thy mind, and nuptial bed,
With fears and cares uncumbered
A pleasing wife, that by thy side
Lies softly panting like a bride;
This is to live, and to endear
Those minutes Time has lent us here.
Then, while fates suffer, live thou free,
As is that air that circles thee;
And crown thy temples too; and let
Thy servant, not thy own self, sweat,
To strut thy barns with sheaves of wheat.<...

Robert Herrick