Upon The Loss Of His Finger.

One of the five straight branches of my hand
Is lop'd already, and the rest but stand
Expecting when to fall, which soon will be;
First dies the leaf, the bough next, next the tree.

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

The Power In The People.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon Love.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Prayers Must Have Poise.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To The Right Gracious Prince, Lodowick, Duke Of Richmond And Lennox.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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After Autumn, Winter.

Die ere long, I'm sure, I shall;
After leaves, the tree must fall.

Robert Herrick

On Himself.

Some parts may perish, die thou canst not all:
The most of thee shall 'scape the funeral.

Robert Herrick

The Poet Hath Lost His Pipe.

I cannot pipe as I was wont to do,
Broke is my reed, hoarse is my singing, too;
My wearied oat I'll hang upon the tree,
And give it to the sylvan deity.

Robert Herrick

To His Book. Another.

Who with thy leaves shall wipe, at need,
The place where swelling piles do breed;
May every ill that bites or smarts
Perplex him in his hinder parts.

Robert Herrick

Upon His Departure Hence.

Thus I
Pass by,
And die:
As one
Unknown
And gone:
I'm made
A shade,
And laid
I' th' grave:
There have
My cave,
Where tell
I dwell.
Farewell.

Robert Herrick

Grief.

Sorrows divided amongst many, less
Discruciate a man in deep distress.

Robert Herrick