No trust to metals nor to marbles, when These have their fate and wear away as men; Times, titles, trophies may be lost and spent, But virtue rears the eternal monument....
Fair was the dawn, and but e'en now the skies Show'd like to cream inspir'd with strawberries, But on a sudden all was chang'd and gone That smil'd in that first sweet complexion....
Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appear Reclothed in fresh and verdant diaper; Thaw'd are the snows; and now the lusty Spring Gives to each mead a neat enamelling;...
God doth not promise here to man that He Will free him quickly from his misery; But in His own time, and when He thinks fit, Then He will give a happy end to it.
Put off Thy robe of purple, then go on To the sad place of execution: Thine hour is come, and the tormentor stands Ready to pierce Thy tender feet and hands. Long before this, the base, the dull, the rude,...
In all thy need be thou possess'd Still with a well-prepared breast; Nor let the shackles make thee sad; Thou canst but have what others had. And this for comfort thou must know...
In all thy need, be thou possest Still with a well prepared breast; Nor let the shackles make thee sad; Thou canst but have what others had. And this for comfort thou must know,...
First, may the hand of bounty bring Into the daily offering Of full provision such a store, Till that the cook cries: Bring no more. Upon your hogsheads never fall A drought of wine, ale, beer, at all;...
The publisher's freak, by which Herrick's three chief Fairy poems ("The Fairy Temple; or, Oberon's Chapel," "Oberon's Feast," and "Oberon's Palace") are separated from each other, is greatly to be regretted. The last two, both ...
Ah, Posthumus! our years hence fly And leave no sound: nor piety, Or prayers, or vow Can keep the wrinkle from the brow; But we must on, As fate does lead or draw us; none,...
When I behold Thee, almost slain, With one and all parts full of pain: When I Thy gentle heart do see Pierced through and dropping blood for me, I'll call, and cry out, thanks to Thee. ...
Why dost thou wound and break my heart, As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an oath from me, After a day, or two, or three, I would come back and live with thee?...
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....
Among these tempests great and manifold My ship has here one only anchor-hold; That is my hope, which if that slip, I'm one Wildered in this vast wat'ry region.