TO DAFFODILS ROBERT HERRICK AIR daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early rising sun Has not attained his noon: Until the hastening day But to the even song; We have short time to stay, as you; We die, As your hours do; and dry Away Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning dew, THE BAG OF THE BEE A ROBERT HERRICK BOUT the sweet bag of a bee And whose the pretty prize should be Which Venus hearing, thither came, And for their boldness stript them, And taking thence from each his flame, With rods of myrtle whipt them. Which done, to still their wanton cries, When quiet grown she'd seen them, She kiss'd and wiped their dove-like eyes, And gave the bag between them. THE SUCCESSION OF THE FOUR SWEET FIR MONTHS ROBERT HERRICK IRST, April, she with mellow show'rs Then after her comes smiling May, Gems, than those two, that went before: More wealth brings in, than all those three. A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING SIR JOHN SUCKLING TELL thee, Dick, where I have been, Such sights again cannot be found At Charing-cross, hard by the way, And there did I see coming down Forty at least, in pairs. Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine Our landlord looks like nothing to him, But wot you what? the youth was going The parson for him stay'd: |