Poem by Robert Herrick

The Hour-Glass

That hour-glass which there you see
With water fill'd, sirs, credit me,
The humour was, as I have read,
But lovers' tears incrystalled.
Which, as they drop by drop do pass
From th' upper to the under-glass,
Do in a trickling manner tell,
By many a watery syllable,
That lovers' tears in lifetime shed
Do restless run when they are dead. 

1. Love, What It Is
2. The Succession of the Four Sweet Months
3. Wlt Punished Prospers Most
4. No Pains, No Gains
5. Upon a Painted Gentlewoman

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