Poets.

Wantons we are, and though our words be such,
Our lives do differ from our lines by much.

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

Of Love.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To His Tomb-Maker.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Burial

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon The Loss Of His Finger.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

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Suggested Poems

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

To M. Leonard Willan, His Peculiar Friend.

I will be short, and having quickly hurl'd
This line about, live thou throughout the world;
Who art a man for all scenes; unto whom,
What's hard to others, nothing's troublesome.
Can'st write the comic, tragic strain, and fall
From these to pen the pleasing pastoral:
Who fli'st at all heights: prose and verse run'st through;
Find'st here a fault, and mend'st the trespass too:
For which I might extol thee, but speak less,
Because thyself art coming to the press:
And then should I in praising thee be slow,
Posterity will pay thee what I owe.

Robert Herrick

Upon Nis.

Nis he makes verses; but the lines he writes
Serve but for matter to make paper kites.

Robert Herrick

To His Tomb-Maker.

Go I must; when I am gone,
Write but this upon my stone:
Chaste I lived, without a wife,
That's the story of my life.
Strewings need none, every flower
Is in this word, bachelour.

Robert Herrick

Upon The Detracter

I ask'd thee oft what poets thou hast read,
And lik'st the best?Still thou repli'st, The dead.
I shall, ere long, with green turfs cover'd be;
Then sure thou'lt like, or thou wilt envy, me.

Robert Herrick

Writing

When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.

Robert Herrick

To Flowers.

In time of life I graced ye with my verse;
Do now your flowery honours to my hearse.
You shall not languish, trust me; virgins here
Weeping shall make ye flourish all the year.

Robert Herrick