Tom Blinks his nose is full of weals, and these
Tom calls not pimples, but pimpleides;
Sometimes, in mirth, he says each whelk's a spark,
When drunk with beer, to light him home i' th' dark.
Upon Blinks. Epig.
Robert Herrick
Suggested Poems
Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.