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Here a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, for a benison to fall on our meat, and on us all. Amen.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Though
Lifts
Fall
Meat
Hands
Thee
Littles
Cold
Little
Stand
Children
Either
Heaving
Hand
Amen
Child
Lift

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A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
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Then be not coy, but use your time And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
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Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.
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Humble we must be, if to heaven we go High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
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When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When his potion and his pill, Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing, but to kill Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
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A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine, As my small cruse best fits my little wine.
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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
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Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
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