Poem by Robert Herrick

To Laurels

A funeral stone
Or verse, I covet none;
But only crave
Of you that I may have
A sacred laurel springing from my grave:
Which being seen
Blest with perpetual green,
May grow to be
Not so much call'd a tree,
As the eternal monument of me.

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

Print

1814 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version