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Humble we must be, if to heaven we go High is the roof there, but the gate is low.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Heaven
Must
Gate
Roof
Gates
Lows
Humble
High

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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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When one is past, another care we have Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.
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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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Fight thou with shafts of silver, and o'ercome When no force else can get the masterdom
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Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on Back-turning slackens resolution.
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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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Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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It takes great wit and interest and energy to be happy. The pursuit of happiness is a great activity. One must be open and alive. It is the greatest feat man has to accomplish.
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
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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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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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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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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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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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Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.
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What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
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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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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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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
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