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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Wine
Drink
Angels
Gods
Thou
Angel

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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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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What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
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None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
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Know when to speak - for many times it brings danger, to give the best advice to kings.
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T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
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Art quickens nature care will make a face Neglected beauty perisheth apace.
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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
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.
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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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Happy is the bride that the sun shines on.
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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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Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on Back-turning slackens resolution.
Robert Herrick
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
Robert Herrick
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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.
Robert Herrick
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Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Robert Herrick
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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.
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
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In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
Robert Herrick
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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
Robert Herrick