Poem by Robert Herrick

A Hymn to Love

I will confess
With cheerfulness,
Love is a thing so likes me,
That, let her lay
On me all day,
I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.

I will not, I,
Now blubb'ring cry,
It, ah! too late repents me
That I did fall
To love at all--
Since love so much contents me.

No, no, I'll be
In fetters free;
While others they sit wringing
Their hands for pain,
I'll entertain
The wounds of love with singing.

With flowers and wine,
And cakes divine,
To strike me I will tempt thee;
Which done, no more
I'll come before
Thee and thine altars empty. 

1. Upon Mrs Eliz. Wheeler, under the Name of Amarillis
2. The Lily in a Crystal
3. Upon Love: By Way of Question and Answer
4. Orpheus
5. To the Water-Nymphs Drinking at the Fountain

Print

2201 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version