Poem by Robert Herrick

Upon Julia's Hair, Bundled up in a Golden Net

Tell me, what needs those rich deceits,
These golden toils, and trammel nets,
To take thine hairs when they are known
Already tame, and all thine own?
'Tis I am wild, and more than hairs
Deserve these meshes and those snares.
Set free thy tresses, let them flow
As airs do breathe or winds do blow:
And let such curious net-works be
Less set for them than spread for me.

1. An Ode of the Birth of Our Saviour
2. The Dirge of Jephthah's Daughter: Sung by the Virgins
3. On Himself (I'll write no more of love, but now repent)
4. Cock-Crow
5. To His Conscience

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