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Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Thee
Loving
Give
Giving
Heart
Love

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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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Happy is the bride that the sun shines on.
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
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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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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
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Feed him ye must, whose food fills you. And that this pleasure is like raine, Not sent ye for to drowne your paine, But for to make it spring againe.
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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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None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
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For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee Which bore my Love away I'le seek him in your Bonnet brave, I'le seek him in your eyes.
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The person lives twice who lives the first life well
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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
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The body is the soul's poor house or home, whose ribs the laths are and whose flesh the loam.
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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
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The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup I'll drink to the garlands around it But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
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Oft have I heard both youths and virgins say, Birds chuse their mates and couple too this day: But by their flight I never can devine When I shall couple with my valentine.
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Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
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Praise they that will times past, I joy to see My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.
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When one is past, another care we have Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.
Robert Herrick