Robert Herrick Quotes

Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;
Nothing's so hard but search will find it out.

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

Paradise is, as from the learn'd I gather,
A choir of blest souls circling in the Father.

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.

Get up, sweet Slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herb and tree.

If little labour, little are our gains:
Man's fortunes are according to his pains.

Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be,
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

Art quickens nature; care will make a face; Neglected beauty perisheth apace.

Au lecteur généreux

Vois sans voir, et si des imperfections
Se font jour au fil de mes traductions,
Ignore-les : quant aux énormités,
Cache-les, et, avec, la nudité
De leur père : il s'est forcé à l'éveil,
Mais Homère aussi succombe au sommeil…

Some asked how pearls did grow, and where?
Then spoke I to my girl
To part her lips, and showed them there
The quarelets of pearl.

To read my booke the Virgin Shie
May blush, (while Brutus standeth by:)
But when He’s gone, read through what’s writ,
And never staine a cheeke for it.

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he is to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while you may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

- To the Virgins, To Make much of Time

To Daisies, Not To Shut So Soon

Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night
Has not as yet begun
To make a seizure on the light,
Or to seal up the sun.

No marigolds yet closed are;
No shadows great appear;
Nor doth the early shepherds' star
Shine like a spangle here.

Stay but till my Julia close
Her life-begetting eye,
And let the whole world then dispose
Itself to live or die.

Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree;
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en Death, to die for thee.

Night makes no difference 'twixt the Priest and Clerk;
Joan as my Lady is as good i' the dark.