Our crosses are no other than the rods,
And our diseases, vultures of the gods:
Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite
Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.
And our diseases, vultures of the gods:
Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite
Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.
Robert Herrick
TO HIS FRIEND, MR.
J.
JINCKS.
Love, love me now, because I place
Thee here among my righteous race:
The bastard slips may droop and die
Wanting both root and earth; but thy
Immortal self shall boldly trust
To live for ever with my Just.
_With my Just_, cp. 664.
860. ON HIMSELF.
If that my fate has now fulfill'd my year,
And so soon stopt my longer living here;
What was't, ye gods, a dying man to save,
But while he met with his paternal grave!
Though while we living 'bout the world do roam,
We love to rest in peaceful urns at home,
Where we may snug, and close together lie
By the dead bones of our dear ancestry.
861. KINGS AND TYRANTS.
'Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known:
_Kings seek their subjects' good, tyrants their own_.
862. CROSSES.
Our crosses are no other than the rods,
And our diseases, vultures of the gods:
Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite
Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.
863. UPON LOVE.
Love brought me to a silent grove
And show'd me there a tree,
Where some had hang'd themselves for love,
And gave a twist to me.
The halter was of silk and gold,
That he reach'd forth unto me;
No otherwise than if he would
By dainty things undo me.
He bade me then that necklace use;
And told me, too, he maketh
A glorious end by such a noose,
His death for love that taketh.
'Twas but a dream; but had I been
There really alone,
My desp'rate fears in love had seen
Mine execution.
864. NO DIFFERENCE I' TH' DARK.
Night makes no difference 'twixt the priest and clerk;
Joan as my lady is as good i' th' dark.
865. THE BODY.
The body is the soul's poor house or home,
Whose ribs the laths are, and whose flesh the loam.
866. TO SAPPHO.
Thou say'st thou lov'st me, Sappho; I say no;
But would to Love I could believe 'twas so!
Love, love me now, because I place
Thee here among my righteous race:
The bastard slips may droop and die
Wanting both root and earth; but thy
Immortal self shall boldly trust
To live for ever with my Just.
_With my Just_, cp. 664.
860. ON HIMSELF.
If that my fate has now fulfill'd my year,
And so soon stopt my longer living here;
What was't, ye gods, a dying man to save,
But while he met with his paternal grave!
Though while we living 'bout the world do roam,
We love to rest in peaceful urns at home,
Where we may snug, and close together lie
By the dead bones of our dear ancestry.
861. KINGS AND TYRANTS.
'Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known:
_Kings seek their subjects' good, tyrants their own_.
862. CROSSES.
Our crosses are no other than the rods,
And our diseases, vultures of the gods:
Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite
Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.
863. UPON LOVE.
Love brought me to a silent grove
And show'd me there a tree,
Where some had hang'd themselves for love,
And gave a twist to me.
The halter was of silk and gold,
That he reach'd forth unto me;
No otherwise than if he would
By dainty things undo me.
He bade me then that necklace use;
And told me, too, he maketh
A glorious end by such a noose,
His death for love that taketh.
'Twas but a dream; but had I been
There really alone,
My desp'rate fears in love had seen
Mine execution.
864. NO DIFFERENCE I' TH' DARK.
Night makes no difference 'twixt the priest and clerk;
Joan as my lady is as good i' th' dark.
865. THE BODY.
The body is the soul's poor house or home,
Whose ribs the laths are, and whose flesh the loam.
866. TO SAPPHO.
Thou say'st thou lov'st me, Sappho; I say no;
But would to Love I could believe 'twas so!
