Julia, if I chance to die
Ere I print my poetry,
I most humbly thee desire
To commit it to the fire:
Better 'twere my book were dead,
Than to live not perfected.
More verses by Robert Herrick
- His Prayer To Ben Jonson
- On Love
- A Conjuration To Electra
- Why Flowers Change Colour
- Upon Love:By Way Of Question And Answer