To Perenna.

I a dirge will pen to thee;
Thou a trentall make for me:
That the monks and friars together,
Here may sing the rest of either:
Next, I'm sure, the nuns will have
Candlemas to grace the grave.

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

Paradise.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To His Mistress, Objecting To Him Neither Toying Or Talking

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Readiness.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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To Perenna, A Mistress.

Dear Perenna, prithee come
And with smallage dress my tomb:
Add a cypress sprig thereto,
With a tear, and so Adieu.

Robert Herrick

To Perenna.

How long, Perenna, wilt thou see
Me languish for the love of thee?
Consent, and play a friendly part
To save, when thou may'st kill a heart.

Robert Herrick

To Perenna

When I thy parts run o'er, I can't espy
In any one, the least indecency;
But every line and limb diffused thence
A fair and unfamiliar excellence;
So that the more I look, the more I prove
There's still more cause why I the more should love.

Robert Herrick

To Perilla

Ah, my Perilla, dost thou grieve to see
Me day by day to steal away from thee?
Age calls me hence, and my grey hairs bid come,
And haste away to mine eternal home.
'Twill not be long, Perilla, after this,
That I must give thee the supremest kiss.
Dead when I am, first cast in salt, and bring
Part of the cream from that religious spring,
With which, Perilla, wash my hands and feet.
That done, then wind me in that very sheet
Which wrapped thy smooth limbs when thou didst implore
The gods' protection but the night before.
Follow me weeping to my turf, and there
Let fall a primrose, and with it a tear;
Then, lastly, let some weekly-strewings be
Devoted to the memory of me:
Then shall my ghost not walk about, but keep
Still in the cool and silent shades of sle...

Robert Herrick

To His Lovely Mistresses

One night i'th' year, my dearest Beauties, come,
And bring those dew-drink-offerings to my tomb;
When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise,
And there to lick th' effused sacrifice,
Though paleness be the livery that I wear,
Look ye not wan or colourless for fear.
Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show
The least grim look, or cast a frown on you;
Nor shall the tapers, when I'm there, burn blue.
This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by,
Cast on my girls a glance, and loving eye;
Or fold mine arms, and sigh, because I've lost
The world so soon, and in it, you the most:
Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall,
Though then I smile, and speak no words at all.

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