HER eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
No Will-o'-the-wisp mislight thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there 's none to affright thee.
Let not the dark thee cumber:
What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light
Like tapers clear without number.
Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet
Thy silv'ry feet,
My soul I'll pour into thee.
|About the poet|
|By the same poet|
|To the Virgins, to make much of Time|
|Corinna's going a-Maying|
|To the Western Wind|
|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|
|To Music, to becalm his Fever|
|To Anthea, who may command him Anything|
|To the Willow-tree|
|The Mad Maid's Song|
|Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love|
|A Child's Grace|
|Epitaph upon a Child that died (i)|
|Epitaph upon a Child that died (ii)|
|Litany to the Holy Spirit|
|Robert Herrick at amazon.co.uk|