Poem by Robert Herrick

A Canticle to Apollo

Play, Phoebus, on thy lute,
And we will sit all mute;
By listening to thy lyre,
That sets all ears on fire.

Hark, hark! the God does play!
And as he leads the way
Through heaven, the very spheres,
As men, turn all to ears! 

1. Wlt Punished Prospers Most
2. To Enjoy the Time
3. No Pains, No Gains
4. Upon Wrinkles
5. Upon Tears

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