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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Bids
Blush
Words
Speak
Write
Writing
Love

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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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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Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold New things succeed, as former things grow old.
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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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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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Drink wine, and live here blitheful while ye may The morrow's life too late is live to-day.
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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
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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.
Robert Herrick
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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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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
Robert Herrick
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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.
Robert Herrick
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Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot, or not, to be content with all.
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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.
Robert Herrick
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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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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
Robert Herrick
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You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
Robert Herrick
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Then be not coy, but use your time And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
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.
Robert Herrick
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Bid me to live, and I will liveThy Protestant to be,Or bid me love, and I will giveA loving heart to thee.
Robert Herrick
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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!
Robert Herrick