Poem by Robert Herrick

A Lyric to Mirth

While the milder fates consent,
Let's enjoy our merriment :
Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play ;
Kiss our dollies night and day :
Crowned with clusters of the vine,
Let us sit, and quaff our wine.
Call on Bacchus, chant his praise ;
Shake the thyrse, and bite the bays :
Rouse Anacreon from the dead,
And return him drunk to bed :
Sing o'er Horace, for ere long
Death will come and mar the song :
Then shall Wilson and Gotiere
Never sing or play more here. 

1. Love, What It Is
2. The Succession of the Four Sweet Months
3. Wlt Punished Prospers Most
4. No Pains, No Gains
5. Upon a Painted Gentlewoman

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