Poem by Robert Herrick

I Call and I Call

I call, I call:  who do ye call?
The maids to catch this cowslip ball!
But since these cowslips fading be,
Troth, leave the flowers, and maids, take me!
Yet, if that neither you will do,
Speak but the word, and I'll take you.

1. Upon the Detracter
2. The Succession of the Four Sweet Months
3. Love, What It Is
4. Upon a Painted Gentlewoman
5. Loss from the Least

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