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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
Angels
Gods
Thou
Angel
Wine
Drink

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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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Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
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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.
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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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The person lives twice who lives the first life well
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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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Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
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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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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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Feed him ye must, whose food fills you. And that this pleasure is like raine, Not sent ye for to drowne your paine, But for to make it spring againe.
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Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
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None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
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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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Praise they that will times past, I joy to see My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.
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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.
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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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Art quickens nature care will make a face Neglected beauty perisheth apace.
Robert Herrick
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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
Robert Herrick
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
Robert Herrick
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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