Poem by Robert Herrick

His Poetry His Pillar

    Only a little more
        I have to write,
        Then I'll give o'er,
    And bid the world good-night.

    'Tis but a flying minute
        That I must stay,
        Or linger in it;
    And then I must away.

    O time that cut'st down all
        And scarce leav'st here
        Memorial
    Of any men that were.

    How many lie forgot
        In vaults beneath?
        And piecemeal rot
    Without a fame in death?

    Behold this living stone
        I rear for me,
        Ne'er to be thrown
    Down, envious Time, by thee.

    Pillars let some set up
        If so they please:
        Here is my hope
    And my Pyramides.

1. To Carnations: a Song
2. The Apron of Flowers
3. The Changes: to Corinna
4. The Present; or, The Bag of the Bee
5. A Request to the Graces

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