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.
For each one body that i' th' earth is sown, There's an uprising but of one for one; But for each grain that in the ground is thrown, Threescore or fourscore spring up thence for one:...
This day, my Julia, thou must make For Mistress Bride the wedding-cake: Knead but the dough, and it will be To paste of almonds turn'd by thee; Or kiss it thou but once or twice,...
Some ask'd me where the Rubies grew: And nothing I did say, But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia. Some ask'd how Pearls did grow, and where: Then spoke I to my girl,...
Before man's fall the rose was born, St. Ambrose says, without the thorn; But for man's fault then was the thorn Without the fragrant rose-bud born; But ne'er the rose without the thorn.
Two instruments belong unto our God: The one a staff is and the next a rod; That if the twig should chance too much to smart, The staff might come to play the friendly part.
Dean Bourn, farewell; I never look to see Dean, or thy watery[1] incivility. Thy rocky bottom, that doth tear thy streams And makes them frantic even to all extremes, To my content I never should behold,...
To this white temple of my heroes here, Beset with stately figures everywhere Of such rare saintships, who did here consume Their lives in sweets, and left in death perfume,...
Laid out for dead, let thy last kindness be With leaves and moss-work for to cover me; And while the wood-nymphs my cold corpse inter, Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister!...
See and not see, and if thou chance t'espy Some aberrations in my poetry, Wink at small faults; the greater, ne'ertheless, Hide, and with them their father's nakedness....