Upon Umber.

Umber was painting of a lion fierce,
And, working it, by chance from Umber's erse
Flew out a crack, so mighty, that the fart,
As Umber states, did make his lion start.

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

His Creed.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Man's Dying-place Uncertain

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Anacreontic Verse.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

His Parting From Mrs. Dorothy Kennedy.

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.

To The Painter, To Draw Him A Picture.

Come, skilful Lupo, now, and take
Thy bice, thy umber, pink, and lake;
And let it be thy pencil's strife,
To paint a Bridgeman to the life:
Draw him as like too, as you can,
An old, poor, lying, flattering man:
His cheeks bepimpled, red and blue;
His nose and lips of mulberry hue.
Then, for an easy fancy, place
A burling iron for his face:
Next, make his cheeks with breath to swell,
And for to speak, if possible:
But do not so, for fear lest he
Should by his breathing, poison thee.

Robert Herrick

Upon Ursley.

Ursley, she thinks those velvet patches grace
The candid temples of her comely face;
But he will say, whoe'er those circlets seeth,
They be but signs of Ursley's hollow teeth.

Robert Herrick

Upon Lulls.

Lulls swears he is all heart; but you'll suppose
By his proboscis that he is all nose.

Robert Herrick

The Hag.

The staff is now greas'd;
And very well pleas'd,
She cocks out her arse at the parting,
To an old ram goat
That rattles i' th' throat,
Half-choked with the stink of her farting.

In a dirty hair-lace
She leads on a brace
Of black boar-cats to attend her:
Who scratch at the moon,
And threaten at noon
Of night from heaven for to rend her.

A-hunting she goes,
A cracked horn she blows,
At which the hounds fall a-bounding;
While th' moon in her sphere
Peeps trembling for fear,
And night's afraid of the sounding.

Robert Herrick

Upon Meg.

Meg yesterday was troubled with a pose,
Which, this night harden'd, sodders up her nose.

Robert Herrick

Upon Craw.

Craw cracks in sirrop; and does stinking say,
Who can hold that, my friends, that will away?

Robert Herrick