Quote

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.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Food
Pleasure
Paine
Must
Fills
Make
Feed
Like
Sent
Spring
Eating
Whose

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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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.
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.
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Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
Robert Herrick
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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
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The person lives twice who lives the first life well
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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
Robert Herrick
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Let wealth come in by comely thrift, And not by any sordid shift 'T is haste Makes waste Extremes have still their fault. Who gripes too hard the dry and slipp'ry sand, Holds none at all, or little, in his hand.
Robert Herrick
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Go to your banquet then, but use delight So as to rise still with an appetite.
Robert Herrick
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Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
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Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Robert Herrick
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table's merriment.
Robert Herrick
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Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on Back-turning slackens resolution.
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None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
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
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Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer: There, Where my Julia's lips do smile There's the land, or cherry-isle, Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow.
Robert Herrick
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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
Robert Herrick
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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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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
Robert Herrick