Quote

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

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Shoes
Deserving
Whose
String
Winning
Careless
Art
Precise
Tempestuous
Part
Strings
Apparel
Doe
Note
Wilde
Every
Wave
Civility
Notes
Shoe

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Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold New things succeed, as former things grow old.
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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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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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Give house-room to the best 'tis never known Verture and pleasure both to dwell in one.
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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
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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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Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
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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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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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Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
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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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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
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Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
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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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What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
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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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Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on Back-turning slackens resolution.
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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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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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