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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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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Fears
Gentle
Sea
Shipwreck
Though
Gale
Upon
Seas
Suffered
Sail
More quotes by Robert Herrick
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
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T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
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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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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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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
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A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
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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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I dare not ask a kiss I dare not beg a smile Lest having that or this, I might grow proud the while. No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air, That lately kissed thee.
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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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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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 person lives twice who lives the first life well
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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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Art quickens nature care will make a face Neglected beauty perisheth apace.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse.
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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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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
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A winning wave, (deserving note.) In the tempestuous petticote, A careless shoe-string, in whose tye I see a wilde civility,-- Doe more bewitch me than when art Is too precise in every part.
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