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Upon Brock. Epig.

To cleanse his eyes, Tom Brock makes much ado,
But not his mouth, the fouler of the two.
A clammy rheum makes loathsome both his eyes:
His mouth, worse furr'd with oaths and blasphemies.

Robert Herrick

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 God.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

No Bashfulness In Begging.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Pillar Of Fame.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon Her Weeping.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Upon Blinks. Epig.

Tom Blinks his nose is full of weals, and these
Tom calls not pimples, but pimpleides;
Sometimes, in mirth, he says each whelk's a spark,
When drunk with beer, to light him home i' th' dark.

Robert Herrick

Upon Boreman. Epig.

Boreman takes toll, cheats, natters, lies; yet Boreman,
For all the devil helps, will be a poor man.

Robert Herrick

Upon Craw.

Craw cracks in sirrop; and does stinking say,
Who can hold that, my friends, that will away?

Robert Herrick

Upon Glasco. Epig.

Glasco had none, but now some teeth has got;
Which though they fur, will neither ache or rot.
Six teeth he has, whereof twice two are known
Made of a haft that was a mutton bone.
Which not for use, but merely for the sight,
He wears all day, and draws those teeth at night.

Robert Herrick

Upon Skoles. Epig.

Skoles stinks so deadly, that his breeches loath
His dampish buttocks furthermore to clothe;
Cloy'd they are up with arse; but hope, one blast
Will whirl about, and blow them thence at last.

Robert Herrick

Upon Rook. Epig.

Rook he sells feathers, yet he still doth cry
Fie on this pride, this female vanity.
Thus, though the Rook does rail against the sin,
He loves the gain that vanity brings in.

Robert Herrick

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