Robert Herrick (Роберт Геррик (Херрик))

To Dianeme (I could but see thee yesterday)

I could but see thee yesterday
Stung by a fretful bee;
And I the javelin suck'd away,
And heal'd the wound in thee.

A thousand thorns, and briars, and stings
I have in my poor breast;
Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings
My passions any rest.

As Love shall help me, I admire
How thou canst sit and smile
To see me bleed, and not desire
To staunch the blood the while.

If thou, composed of gentle mould,
Art so unkind to me;
What dismal stories will be told
Of those that cruel be!

1. Orpheus
2. Upon Love: By Way of Question and Answer
3. Lovers How They Come and Part
4. Upon Mrs Eliz. Wheeler, under the Name of Amarillis
5. The Bag of the Bee

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1781

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