Works

To-morrow, Julia, I betimes must rise,
For some small fault to offer sacrifice:
The altar's ready: fire to consume
The fat; breathe thou, and there's the rich perfume.

Fresh strewings allow
To my sepulchre now,
To make my lodging the sweeter;
A staff or a wand
Put then in my hand,
With a penny to pay S. Peter.

Who has not a cross...

Fame's pillar here, at last, we set,
Outduring marble, brass, or jet.
Charm'd and enchanted so
As to withstand the blow
Of o v e r t h r o w;...

If after rude and boisterous seas
My wearied pinnace here finds ease;
If so it be I've gain'd the shore,
With safety of a faithful oar;
If having run my barque on ground,
Ye see the aged vessel crown'd;...

I am of all bereft,
Save but some few beans left,
Whereof, at last, to make
For me and mine a cake,
Which eaten, they and I
Will say our grace, and die.

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.

I do not love to wed,
Though I do like to woo;
And for a maidenhead
I'll beg and buy it too.

I'll praise and I'll approve
Those maids that never vary;
And fervently I'll love,...

May his pretty dukeship grow
Like t'a rose of Jericho:
Sweeter far than ever yet
Showers or sunshines could beget.
May the Graces and the Hours
Strew his hopes and him with flowers:...

To me my Julia lately sent
A bracelet richly redolent:
The beads I kissed, but most lov'd her
That did perfume the pomander.

Tell me, rich man, for what intent
Thou load'st with gold thy vestiment?
Whenas the poor cry out: To us
Belongs all gold superfluous.

The sup'rabundance of my store,
That is the portion of the poor:
Wheat, barley, rye, or oats; what is't
But He takes toll of? all the grist.
Two raiments have I: Christ then makes...

Let kings command and do the best they may,
The saucy subjects still will bear the sway.

Fly to my mistress, pretty pilfering bee,
And say thou bring'st this honey-bag from me;
When on her lip thou hast thy sweet dew placed,
Mark if her tongue but slyly steal a taste;...

Praise, they that will, times past: I joy to see
Myself now live; this age best pleaseth me!

Our household-gods our parents be;
And manners good require that we
The first fruits give to them, who gave
Us hands to get what here we have.

Ask me why I send you here
This sweet Infanta of the year?
Ask me why I send to you
This Primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew?
I will whisper to your ears,
The sweets of love are mixt with tears.
...

Up with the quintell, that the rout,
May fart for joy, as well as shout:
Either's welcome, stink or civit,
If we take it, as they give it.

Look how the rainbow doth appear
But in one only hemisphere;
So likewise after our decease
No more is seen the arch of peace.
That cov'nant's here, the under-bow,
That nothing shoots but war and woe.

Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain;
And as they thus did entertain
The gentle beams from Julia's sight
To mine eyes levell'd opposite,
O thing admir'd! there did appear...

All I have lost that could be rapt from me;
And fare it well: yet, Herrick, if so be
Thy dearest Saviour renders thee but one
Smile, that one smile's full restitution.