Poem by Robert Herrick

The Cruel Maid

     —AND, cruel maid, because I see
     You scornful of my love, and me,
     I'll trouble you no more, but go
     My way, where you shall never know
     What is become of me; there I
     Will find me out a path to die,
     Or learn some way how to forget
     You and your name for ever;—yet
     Ere I go hence, know this from me,
     What will in time your fortune be;
     This to your coyness I will tell;
     And having spoke it once, Farewell.
     —The lily will not long endure,
     Nor the snow continue pure;
     The rose, the violet, one day
     See both these lady-flowers decay;
     And you must fade as well as they.
     And it may chance that love may turn,
     And, like to mine, make your heart burn
     And weep to see't; yet this thing do,
     That my last vow commends to you;
     When you shall see that I am dead,
     For pity let a tear be shed;
     And, with your mantle o'er me cast,
     Give my cold lips a kiss at last;
     If twice you kiss, you need not fear
     That I shall stir or live more here.
     Next hollow out a tomb to cover
     Me, me, the most despised lover;
     And write thereon, THIS, READER, KNOW;
     LOVE KILL'D THIS MAN.  No more, but so.

1. To My Ill Reader
2. Kisses Loathsome
3. To Julia in the Temple
4. The Bracelet to Julia
5. To Dianeme (I could but see thee yesterday)

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