Collected English Verse — Robert Herrick. b. 1591, d. 1674 (Part 3 of 7)
from the spring;
Some laid her forth, while others wept,
But all a solemn fast there kept:
The holy sisters,
some among,
The sacred dirge and trental1 sung.
But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,
As Heaven
had spent all perfumes there.
At last, when prayers for the dead
And rites were all accomplishàd,
They,
weeping, spread a lawny loom,
And closed her up as in a tomb.
264 Cherry-Ripe
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.
265 A Meditation for his Mistress
YOU are a tulip seen to-day,
But, dearest, of so short a stay
That where you grew scarce man
can say.
You are a lovely July-flower,
Yet one rude wind or ruffling shower
Will force you hence, and in
an hour.
You are a sparkling rose i’ th’ bud,
Yet lost ere that chaste flesh and blood
Can show where
you or grew or stood.
You are a full-spread, fair-set vine,
And can with tendrils love entwine,
Yet dried ere you distil
your wine.
You are like balm enclosàd well
In amber or some crystal shell,
Yet lost ere you transfuse your
smell.
You are a dainty violet,
Yet wither’d ere you can be set
Within the virgin’s coronet.
You are the queen all flowers among;
But die you must, fair maid, ere long,
As he, the maker
of this song.
266 Delight in Disorder
A SWEET disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders
thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher:
A cuff
neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly:
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous
petticoat:
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too
precise in every part.
267 Upon Julia’s Clothes
WHENAS in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
The liquefaction
of her clothes!
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free,
—O how that
glittering taketh me!
268 The Bracelet: To Julia
WHY I tie about thy wrist,
Julia, this silken twist;
For what other reason is’t
But to show thee
how, in part,
Thou my pretty captive art?
But thy bond-slave is my heart:
’Tis but silk that bindeth thee,
Knap
the thread and thou art free;
But ’tis otherwise with me:
—I am bound and fast bound, so
That from thee I
cannot go;
If I could, I would not so.