Truth And Falsehood

Truth by her own simplicity is known,
Falsehood by varnish and vermilion.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

To The Virgins, To Make Much Of Time

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Last Stroke Strikes Sure.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Wassail

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Safety On The Shore

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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Truth And Falsehood.

Truth by her own simplicity is known,
Falsehood by varnish and vermilion.

Robert Herrick

Truth.

Truth is best found out by the time and eyes;
Falsehood wins credit by uncertainties.

Robert Herrick

Truth And Error

Twixt truth and error, there's this difference known
Error is fruitful, truth is only one.

Robert Herrick

Truth And Falsehood. A Tale

Once on a time, in sunshine weather,
Falsehood and Truth walk'd out together,
The neighbouring woods and lawns to view,
As opposites will sometimes do:
Through many a blooming mead they pass'd,
And at a brook arrived at last:
The purling stream, the margin green,
With flowers bedeck'd, a vernal scene,
Invited each itinerant maid
To rest a while beneath the shade;
Under a spreading beech they sat,
And pass'd the time with female chat;
While each her thoughts, the other feign'd.
At length, quoth Falsehood, Sister Truth,
For so she call'd her from her youth,
What if, to shun yon sultry beam,
We bathe in this delightful stream,
The bottom smooth, the water clear,
And there's no prying shepherd near?
With all my heart, the nymph replied,
And thr...

Matthew Prior

Upon Teage.

Teage has told lies so long that when Teage tells
Truth, yet Teage's truths are untruths, nothing else.

Robert Herrick

Upon Some Women.

Thou who wilt not love, do this,
Learn of me what woman is.
Something made of thread and thrum.
A mere botch of all and some.
Pieces, patches, ropes of hair;
Inlaid garbage everywhere.
Outside silk and outside lawn;
Scenes to cheat us neatly drawn.
False in legs, and false in thighs;
False in breast, teeth, hair, and eyes;
False in head, and false enough;
Only true in shreds and stuff.

Robert Herrick