Upon Teage.

Teage has told lies so long that when Teage tells
Truth, yet Teage's truths are untruths, nothing else.

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

Humility.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

An Ode For Ben Jonson

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To Julia.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To The Painter, To Draw Him A Picture.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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Truth And Falsehood.

Truth by her own simplicity is known,
Falsehood by varnish and vermilion.

Robert Herrick

Truth And Falsehood

Truth by her own simplicity is known,
Falsehood by varnish and vermilion.

Robert Herrick

Truth And Error

Twixt truth and error, there's this difference known
Error is fruitful, truth is only one.

Robert Herrick

Upon Some Women.

Thou who wilt not love, do this,
Learn of me what woman is.
Something made of thread and thrum.
A mere botch of all and some.
Pieces, patches, ropes of hair;
Inlaid garbage everywhere.
Outside silk and outside lawn;
Scenes to cheat us neatly drawn.
False in legs, and false in thighs;
False in breast, teeth, hair, and eyes;
False in head, and false enough;
Only true in shreds and stuff.

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

Truth And Falsehood. A Tale

Once on a time, in sunshine weather,
Falsehood and Truth walk'd out together,
The neighbouring woods and lawns to view,
As opposites will sometimes do:
Through many a blooming mead they pass'd,
And at a brook arrived at last:
The purling stream, the margin green,
With flowers bedeck'd, a vernal scene,
Invited each itinerant maid
To rest a while beneath the shade;
Under a spreading beech they sat,
And pass'd the time with female chat;
While each her thoughts, the other feign'd.
At length, quoth Falsehood, Sister Truth,
For so she call'd her from her youth,
What if, to shun yon sultry beam,
We bathe in this delightful stream,
The bottom smooth, the water clear,
And there's no prying shepherd near?
With all my heart, the nymph replied,
And thr...

Matthew Prior