Robert Herrick Quotes

If a little labour little are our gains. Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
Robert Herrick
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may Old Time is still aflying And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying.
Robert Herrick
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
Robert Herrick
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
Robert Herrick
You say to me-ward's your affection's strong Pray love me little so you love me long.
Robert Herrick
Like will to like each creature loves his kind.
Robert Herrick
Give me a kisse and to that kisse a score Then to that twenty adde a hundred more A thousand to that hundred so kisse on To make that thousand up a million Treble that million and when that is done Let's kisse afresh as when we first begun.
Robert Herrick
Give if thou can an alms if not a sweet and gentle word.
Robert Herrick
Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Robert Herrick
But ne'er the rose without the thorn.
Robert Herrick
Whenas in silks my Julia goes Then then methinks how sweetly flows The liquefaction of her clothes!
Robert Herrick
In vain our labours are whatsoe'er they be unless God gives the Benediction.
Robert Herrick
Tears are the noble language of eyes, and when true love of words is destitute. The eye by tears speak, while the tongue is mute.
Robert Herrick
Tumble me down, and I will sitUpon my ruines (smiling yet:)Teare me to tatters; yet I'le bePatient in my necessitie.Laugh at my scraps of cloathes, and shunMe, as a fear'd infection:Yet scarre-crow-like I'le walk as one,Neglecting thy derision.
Robert Herrick
If little labour, little are our gains:Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
Robert Herrick
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,Old Time is still a-flying;And this same flower that smiles today,tTomorrow will be dying.
Robert Herrick
To the Virgins, To Make much of TimeGather ye rose-buds while ye may,Old Time is still a-flying;And this same flower that smiles today,tTomorrow will be dying.The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,tThe higher he’s a-getting,The sooner will his race be run,tAnd nearer he is to setting.That age is best which is the first,tWhen youth and blood are warmer;But being spent, the worse, and worsttTimes still succeed the former.Then be not coy, but use your time,tAnd while you may, go marry;For having lost but once your prime,tYou may for ever tarry.
Robert Herrick