Quote

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

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Wish
Two
Tedious
Good
Asleep
Sunset
Pray
Bed
Praying
Rest

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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The body is the soul's poor house or home, whose ribs the laths are and whose flesh the loam.
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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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Go to your banquet then, but use delight So as to rise still with an appetite.
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Each must in virtue strive for to excel That man lives twice that lives the first life well.
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Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table's merriment.
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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score: Then to that twenty, add a hundred more.
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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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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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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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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
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Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.
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Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.
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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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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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If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
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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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