Robert Herrick

The Mad Maid's Song

GOOD-MORROW to the day so fair,
    Good-morning, sir, to you;
Good-morrow to mine own torn hair
    Bedabbled with the dew.

Good-morning to this primrose too,
    Good-morrow to each maid
That will with flowers the tomb bestrew
    Wherein my love is laid.

Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me!
    Alack and well-a-day!
For pity, sir, find out that bee
    Which bore my love away.

I'll seek him in your bonnet brave,
    I'll seek him in your eyes;
Nay, now I think they've made his grave
    I' th' bed of strawberries.

I'll seek him there; I know ere this
    The cold, cold earth doth shake him;
But I will go, or send a kiss
    By you, sir, to awake him.

Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,
    He knows well who do love him,
And who with green turfs rear his head,
    And who do rudely move him.

He 's soft and tender (pray take heed);
    With bands of cowslips bind him,
And bring him home—but 'tis decreed
    That I shall never find him!

About the poet
Robert Herrick
By the same poet
To the Virgins, to make much of Time
Corinna's going a-Maying
To the Western Wind
To Electra
To Violets
To Daffodils
To Blossoms
The Primrose
The Funeral Rites of the Rose
A Meditation for his Mistress
Delight in Disorder
Upon Julia's Clothes
The Bracelet: To Julia
To Daisies, not to shut so soon
The Night-piece: To Julia
To Music, to becalm his Fever
To Dianeme
To Œnone
To Anthea, who may command him Anything
To the Willow-tree
Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love
To Meadows
A Child's Grace
Epitaph upon a Child that died (i)
Epitaph upon a Child that died (ii)
His Winding-sheet
Litany to the Holy Spirit
Related books
Robert Herrick at amazon.co.uk

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