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Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Saint
Loves
Devil
Least
Best
Tempts
Saints
Temptation

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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
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Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.
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Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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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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The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
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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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A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction.
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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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And as this round (ring) is nowhere found to flaw, or else to sever. So let our love as endless prove and pure as gold forever.
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But here's the sunset of a tedious day, These two asleep are I'll but be undrest, And so to bed. Pray wish us all good rest.
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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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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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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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So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.
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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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Well I sup and well I dine, When I drink my frolic wine.
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Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table's merriment.
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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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Art quickens nature care will make a face Neglected beauty perisheth apace.
Robert Herrick