Upon A Young Mother Of Many Children.

Let all chaste matrons, when they chance to see
My num'rous issue, praise and pity me:
Praise me for having such a fruitful womb,
Pity me, too, who found so soon a tomb.

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

Rest Refreshes.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Supreme Fortune Falls Soonest.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Beauty.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

No Coming To God Without Christ.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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

An Epitaph Upon A Sober Matron.

With blameless carriage, I lived here
To the almost seven and fortieth year.
Stout sons I had, and those twice three
One only daughter lent to me:
The which was made a happy bride
But thrice three moons before she died.
My modest wedlock, that was known
Contented with the bed of one.

Robert Herrick

Upon A Child. An Epitaph.

But born, and like a short delight,
I glided by my parents' sight.
That done, the harder fates denied
My longer stay, and so I died.
If, pitying my sad parents' tears,
You'll spill a tear or two with theirs,
And with some flowers my grave bestrew,
Love and they'll thank you for't. Adieu.

Robert Herrick

Upon Batt.

Batt he gets children, not for love to rear 'em;
But out of hope his wife might die to bear 'em.

Robert Herrick

An Epitaph Upon A Child

Virgins promised when I died,
That they would each primrose-tide
Duly, morn and evening, come,
And with flowers dress my tomb.
Having promised, pay your debts
Maids, and here strew violets.

Robert Herrick

Upon The Lady Crew.

This stone can tell the story of my life,
What was my birth, to whom I was a wife:
In teeming years, how soon my sun was set.
Where now I rest, these may be known by jet.
For other things, my many children be
The best and truest chronicles of me.

Robert Herrick

A Word To Two Young Ladies.

WHEN tender Rose-trees first receive
On half-expanded Leaves, the Shower;
Hope's gayest pictures we believe,
And anxious watch each coining flower.

Then, if beneath the genial Sun
That spreads abroad the full-blown May,
Two infant Stems the rest out-run,
Their buds the first to meet the day,

With joy their op'ning tints we view,
While morning's precious moments fly:
My pretty Maids, 'tis thus with you;
The fond admiring gazer, I.

Preserve, sweet Buds, where'er you be;
The richest gem that decks a Wife;
The charm of female modesty:
And let sweet Music give it life.

Still may the favouring Muse be found:
Still circumspect the paths ye tread:
Plant moral truths in Fancy's ground;
And meet old Age without...

Robert Bloomfield