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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Things
Delighting
Lustre
Evermore
Candor
Sincere

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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Who covets more is evermore a slave.
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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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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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Each must in virtue strive for to excel That man lives twice that lives the first life well.
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Fight thou with shafts of silver, and o'ercome When no force else can get the masterdom
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
Robert Herrick
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Know when to speak - for many times it brings danger, to give the best advice to kings.
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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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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
Robert Herrick
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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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Go to your banquet then, but use delight So as to rise still with an appetite.
Robert Herrick
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Give house-room to the best 'tis never known Verture and pleasure both to dwell in one.
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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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Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
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The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
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Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot, or not, to be content with all.
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What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
Robert Herrick
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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.
Robert Herrick