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A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction.
Robert Herrick
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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Dress
Wantonness
Shoulders
Cuffs
Dresses
Lawn
Clothes
Kindles
Sweet
Lawns
Fine
Distraction
Disorder
Thrown
More quotes by Robert Herrick
That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
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Who covets more is evermore a slave.
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Drink wine, and live here blitheful while ye may The morrow's life too late is live to-day.
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Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
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Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score: Then to that twenty, add a hundred more.
Robert Herrick
Each must in virtue strive for to excel That man lives twice that lives the first life well.
Robert Herrick
Bid me to live, and I will liveThy Protestant to be,Or bid me love, and I will giveA loving heart to thee.
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In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
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Let wealth come in by comely thrift, And not by any sordid shift 'T is haste Makes waste Extremes have still their fault. Who gripes too hard the dry and slipp'ry sand, Holds none at all, or little, in his hand.
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Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
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What though the sea be calm? trust to the shore, Ships have been drown'd, where late they danc'd before.
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Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.
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Well I sup and well I dine, When I drink my frolic wine.
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You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
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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.
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None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
Robert Herrick
