Poem by Robert Herrick

The Bleeding Hand; or The Sprig of Eglantine Given to a Maid

From this bleeding hand of mine,
Take this sprig of Eglantine:
Which, though sweet unto your smell,
Yet the fretful briar will tell,
He who plucks the sweets, shall prove
Many thorns to be in love.

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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