A selection from the lyrical poems of Robert Herrick Part 27

247. TO HIS KINSWOMAN, MISTRESS SUSANNA HERRICK

When I consider, dearest, thou dost stay But here awhile, to languish and decay; Like to these garden glories, which here be The flowery-sweet resemblances of thee: With grief of heart, methinks, I thus do cry, Would thou hadst ne'er been born, or might'st not die!

248. ON HIMSELF

I'll write no more of love, but now repent Of all those times that I in it have spent.

I'll write no more of life, but wish 'twas ended, And that my dust was to the earth commended.

249. HIS WISH TO PRIVACY

Give me a cell To dwell, Where no foot hath A path; There will I spend, And end, My wearied years In tears.

250. TO HIS PATERNAL COUNTRY

O earth! earth! earth! hear thou my voice, and be Loving and gentle for to cover me!

Banish'd from thee I live;--ne'er to return, Unless thou giv'st my small remains an urn.

251. c.o.c.k-CROW

Bell-man of night, if I about shall go For to deny my Master, do thou crow!

Thou stop'st Saint Peter in the midst of sin; Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin; Better it is, premonish'd, for to shun A sin, than fall to weeping when 'tis done.

252. TO HIS CONSCIENCE

Can I not sin, but thou wilt be My private protonotary?

Can I not woo thee, to pa.s.s by A short and sweet iniquity?

I'll cast a mist and cloud upon My delicate transgression, So utter dark, as that no eye Shall see the hugg'd impiety.

Gifts blind the wise, and bribes do please And wind all other witnesses; And wilt not thou with gold be tied, To lay thy pen and ink aside, That in the mirk and tongueless night, Wanton I may, and thou not write?

--It will not be: And therefore, now, For times to come, I'll make this vow; From aberrations to live free: So I'll not fear the judge, or thee.

253. TO HEAVEN

Open thy gates To him who weeping waits, And might come in, But that held back by sin.

Let mercy be So kind, to set me free, And I will straight Come in, or force the gate.

254. AN ODE OF THE BIRTH OF OUR SAVIOUR

In numbers, and but these few, I sing thy birth, oh JESU!

Thou pretty Baby, born here, With sup'rabundant scorn here; Who for thy princely port here, Hadst for thy place Of birth, a base Out-stable for thy court here.

Instead of neat enclosures Of interwoven osiers; Instead of fragrant posies Of daffadils and roses, Thy cradle, kingly stranger, As gospel tells, Was nothing else, But, here, a homely manger.

But we with silks, not cruels, With sundry precious jewels, And lily-work will dress thee; And as we dispossess thee Of clouts, we'll make a chamber, Sweet babe, for thee, Of ivory, And plaster'd round with amber.

The Jews, they did disdain thee; But we will entertain thee With glories to await here, Upon thy princely state here, And more for love than pity: From year to year We'll make thee, here, A free-born of our city.

255. TO HIS SAVIOUR, A CHILD; A PRESENT, BY A CHILD

Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour; And tell him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known.

When thou hast said so, stick it there Upon his bib or stomacher; And tell him, for good handsel too, That thou hast brought a whistle new, Made of a clean straight oaten reed, To charm his cries at time of need; Tell him, for coral, thou hast none, But if thou hadst, he should have one; But poor thou art, and known to be Even as moneyless as he.

Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss From those melifluous lips of his;-- Then never take a second on, To spoil the first impression.

256. GRACE FOR A CHILD

Here, a little child, I stand, Heaving up my either hand: Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to thee, For a benison to fall On our meat, and on us all.

Amen.

257. HIS LITANY, TO THE HOLY SPIRIT

In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart, and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown'd in sleep, Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!