And what he wanted me to do
Was simply to look fair to you
And wish you joy—and then surprise
The gentle look in your dear eyes.
WRITTEN IN BOOKS
IN A VOLUME OF HERRICK
Dear old worldling gone astray,
You would rather sing than pray;
While you wore the preacher’s gown
How you longed for London Town!
When your head ached, then, alack!
You, repentant, gave up sack;
Old and worn you ruthlessly
Bade farewell to poesy;
Full, you never cared for food,
Sated, you were always good.
Julia’s beauties you rehearse,
Sing her charms in wanton verse,
But to make poor Julia thine
Not one pleasure you’d resign.
Flattering, you tried to please;
Generous, you loved your ease!
Dear old Herrick, you’re a Man
Built upon the human plan;
To the world your fame belongs
For the beauty of your songs—
Glorious poet—not a saint—
Lyric splendor without taint!