Since to the country first I came,
I have lost my former flame;
And, methinks, I not inherit,
As I did, my ravish'd spirit.
If I write a verse or two,
'Tis with very much ado;
In regard I want that wine
Which should conjure up a line.
Yet, though now of Muse bereft,
I have still the manners left
For to thank you, noble sir,
For those gifts you do confer
Upon him, who only can
Be in prose a grateful man.
More verses by Robert Herrick
- Anacreontic
- Kissing Usury
- To His Peculiar Friend, Mr John Wicks
- His Content In The Country
- An Ode To Sir Clipsby Crew