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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
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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Little
Waste
Shift
Come
Wealth
Dry
Hard
Hand
Fault
Makes
Holds
Gripes
Hands
Sand
Comely
Stills
Extremes
Sordid
Still
Faults
Thrift
Littles
None
Haste
More quotes by Robert Herrick
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.
Robert Herrick
Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
Robert Herrick
Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer: There, Where my Julia's lips do smile There's the land, or cherry-isle, Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow.
Robert Herrick
Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold New things succeed, as former things grow old.
Robert Herrick
Give house-room to the best 'tis never known Verture and pleasure both to dwell in one.
Robert Herrick
What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
Robert Herrick
Art quickens nature care will make a face Neglected beauty perisheth apace.
Robert Herrick
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.
Robert Herrick
None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
Robert Herrick
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.
Robert Herrick
Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
Robert Herrick
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Robert Herrick
Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Robert Herrick
Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on Back-turning slackens resolution.
Robert Herrick
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.
Robert Herrick
Humble we must be, if to heaven we go High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
Robert Herrick
No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
Robert Herrick
A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction.
Robert Herrick
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.
Robert Herrick
He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
Robert Herrick