Upon Gryll.

Gryll eats, but ne'er says grace; to speak the truth,
Gryll either keeps his breath to cool his broth,
Or else, because Gryll's roast does burn his spit,
Gryll will not therefore say a grace for it.

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 The Right Honourable Edward, Earl Of Dorset.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To His Honoured Friend, Sir Thomas Heale.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

More Modest, More Manly.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Tears.

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.

Upon Grudgings.

Grudgings turns bread to stones, when to the poor
He gives an alms, and chides them from his door.

Robert Herrick

Upon Grubs.

Grubs loves his wife and children, while that they
Can live by love, or else grow fat by play;
But when they call or cry on Grubs for meat,
Instead of bread Grubs gives them stones to eat.
He raves, he rends, and while he thus doth tear,
His wife and children fast to death for fear.

Robert Herrick

Upon Brock. Epig.

To cleanse his eyes, Tom Brock makes much ado,
But not his mouth, the fouler of the two.
A clammy rheum makes loathsome both his eyes:
His mouth, worse furr'd with oaths and blasphemies.

Robert Herrick

Upon Spokes.

Spokes, when he sees a roasted pig, he swears
Nothing he loves on't but the chaps and ears:
But carve to him the fat flanks, and he shall
Rid these, and those, and part by part eat all.

Robert Herrick

His Grange, Or Private Wealth

Though clock,
To tell how night draws hence, I've none,
A cock
I have to sing how day draws on:
I have
A maid, my Prue, by good luck sent,
To save
That little, Fates me gave or lent.
A hen
I keep, which, creeking day by day,
Tells when
She goes her long white egg to lay:
A goose
I have, which, with a jealous ear,
Lets loose
Her tongue, to tell what danger's near.
A lamb
I keep, tame, with my morsels fed,
Whose dam
An orphan left him, lately dead:
A cat
I keep, that plays about my house,
Grown fat
With eating many a miching mouse:
To these
A Trasy I do keep, whereby
I please
The more my rural privacy:
Which are
But toys, to give my heart some ease:
Where care
None is, slight things do li...

Robert Herrick

Upon Flood Or A Thankful Man.

Flood, if he has for him and his a bit,
He says his fore and after grace for it:
If meat he wants, then grace he says to see
His hungry belly borne on legs jail-free.
Thus have, or have not, all alike is good
To this our poor yet ever patient Flood.

Robert Herrick