Some ask’d me where the Rubies gr… And nothing I did say, But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia. Some ask’d how Pearls did grow, a…

In this little Urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.

Make haste away, and let one be A friendly patron unto thee; Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee… Torn for the use of pastery; Or see thy injured leaves serve we…

You see this grntle stream that gl… Shoved on, by quick-succeeding tid… Try if this sober stream you can Follow to th’ wider ocean, And see, if there it keeps unspent

O earth! earth! earth! hear tho… Loving and gentle for to cover me! Banish’d from thee I live;—ne’er… Unless thou giv’st my small remain…

Not all thy flushing suns are set, Herrick, as yet ; Nor doth this far-drawn hemisphere Frown and look sullen ev’rywhere. Days may conclude in nights, and s…

HERE a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall

Why dost thou wound and break my h… As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an oath from m… After a day, or two, or three, I would come back and live with th…

The Hag is astride, This night for to ride, The devil and she together; Through thick and through thin, Now out, and then in,

When that day comes, whose evening… Unto that watery desolation; Devoutly to thy Closet-gods then… That my wing’d ship may meet no R… Those deities which circum-walk th…

Ah, my Perilla, dost thou grieve… Me day by day to steal away from t… Age calls me hence, and my grey ha… And haste away to mine eternal hom… ‘Twill not be long, Perilla, afte…

What can I do in poetry, Now the good spirit’s gone from me… Why, nothing now but lonely sit And over-read what I have writ.

Thou see’st me, Lucia, this year… Three zodiacs fill’d more, I shal… Let crutches then provided be To shore up my debility: Then, while thou laugh’st, I’ll s…

That hour-glass which there you se… With water fill’d, sirs, credit me… The humour was, as I have read, But lovers’ tears incrystalled. Which, as they drop by drop do pas…

Why I tie about thy wrist, Julia, this my silken twist? For what other reason is’t, But to shew thee how in part Thou my pretty captive art?