Robert Herrick (1591-1674) has long been known to fame as a writer of some of the most graceful lyrics in the English language. "Merrie England" has had many a laughter-loving parson who, peeping over his Book of Common Prayer, has been unable to resist the temptation to flirt with muses who have been rather more at home in ballrooms, studios, and old-world taverns than in the atmosphere of a country parsonage, but that black-garbed company never sent forth a singer with a lilt so free or a heart so light as Robert Herrick's.
Of Herrick's life comparatively little is known. He took his degree at Cambridge in 1620, and in 1629 Charles I made him vicar of Dean Prior, in Devonshire. From this position he was ousted about the beginning of the Cromwell regime. He went to London then and published "Hesperides," a book of verses. There, it is supposed, he lived a bohemian sort of existence until he was returned to his Dean Prior living by Charles II. He continued there until he died at the age of eighty-four.
This old-time Devonshire vicar was a great worshiper at the shrine of feminine beauty, and was a fond lover of his garden and ale-tankard as well. Like Omar Khayyám, he believed in making hay while the sun shone, and it is this spirit that pervades the exquisite verses which are published herewith.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting.
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer:
But being spent the worse and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.