Poem by Robert Herrick

Upon His Gray Hairs

Fly me not, though I be gray,
Lady, this I know you'll say;
Better look the roses red,
When with white commingled.
Black your hairs are; mine are white;
This begets the more delight,
When things meet most opposite;
As in pictures we descry
Venus standing Vulcan by.

1. The Apron of Flowers
2. To Carnations: a Song
3. To Primroses Filled with Morning Dew
4. To Violets
5. To Daisies, Not to Shut so Soon

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