Robert Herrick Quotes
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And as this round (ring) is nowhere found to flaw, or else to sever. So let our love as endless prove and pure as gold forever.
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Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
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Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known; Kings seek their subjects' good: tyrants their own.
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Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen To come forth, like the springtime, fresh and green
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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
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It takes great wit and interest and energy to be happy. The pursuit of happiness is a great activity. One must be open and alive. It is the greatest feat man has to accomplish.
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Art quickens nature; care will make a face; Neglected beauty perisheth apace.
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Her eyes the glowworm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
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Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying: And this same flower that smiles to day, Tomorrow will be dying.
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Bid me to live, and I will liveThy Protestant to be,Or bid me love, and I will giveA loving heart to thee.
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
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I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers: Of April, May, or June, and July flowers. I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of the bridal cakes.
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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on; Back-turning slackens resolution.
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Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer: There, Where my Julia's lips do smile; There's the land, or cherry-isle, Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow.
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If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
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Fain would I kiss my Julia's dainty leg, Which is as white and hairless as an egg.
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Praise they that will times past, I joy to see My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.
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When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees; Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When his potion and his pill, Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing, but to kill; Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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Let wealth come in by comely thrift, And not by any sordid shift; 'T is haste Makes waste; Extremes have still their fault. Who gripes too hard the dry and slipp'ry sand, Holds none at all, or little, in his hand.
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In vain our labours are, whatsoe'er they be, unless God gives the Benediction.
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I'll write, because I'll give - You critics means to live; For should I not supply - The cause, the effect would die
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Go to your banquet then, but use delight So as to rise still with an appetite.
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
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The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
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Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
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Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say; But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
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