Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BAD SEASON MAKES THE POET SAD, by ROBERT HERRICK



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BAD SEASON MAKES THE POET SAD, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Dull to my selfe, and almost dead to these
Last Line: Knock at a starre with my exalted head.
Subject(s): Grief; Sorrow; Sadness


Dull to my selfe, and almost dead to these
My many fresh and fragrant Mistresses:
Lost to all Musick now; since every thing
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing.
Sick is the Land to'th' heart; and doth endure
More dangerous faintings by her desp'rate cure.
But if that golden Age wo'd come again,
And Charles here Rule, as he before did Raign;
If smooth and unperplext the Seasons were,
As when the Sweet Maria lived here:
I sho'd delight to have my Curles halfe drown'd
In Tyrian Dewes, and Head with Roses crown'd.
And once more yet (ere I am laid out dead)
Knock at a Starre with my exalted Head.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net