Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, UPON A CHERRYSTONE SENT .. TIP OF LADY HEMONIA WALGRAVES EAR, by ROBERT HERRICK


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

UPON A CHERRYSTONE SENT .. TIP OF LADY HEMONIA WALGRAVES EAR, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Lady, I intreate yow weare
Last Line: Turnes the beholders into stone.
Subject(s): Earrings


Lady I intreate yow weare
This little pendant on your eare,
Tis not Jewell of great prize
Or in respect of Merchandize,
But deepe mistery, not the stone
Gives it estimation.
Take it then and in a viewe
See th' Epitome of yow,
For what life and death confines
Looks through the passage of theis lines
Whose incarvemts doe descrye
A scripture how yow liue and dye.
Read it then before your lipp
Comends it to your eares soft tipp
And the while yow doe surveye
This Janus looking double waye
With a teare yow may compare
To that yow must be; what yow are.
Know time past this cherrystone
Had a sweet complexion
Skynne and colour, flesh and blood,
Daintye tast for ladyes food.
All's now fledd saue this alone
Poor relique of the beawty, bone,
and that soe little we despaire
It ever dangling smil'd i' th' aire,
Soe must that faire face of yours
(As this looking-glasse assures)
Faile and scarce leaue to be showne
There ever lived such a one.
And when an othe rage shall bring
Your leane scalp to sensuring
Though the Sextons truly sweare
Here Jemmonia's titles were
In this rag'd Escutcheon
Most maye smile, beleiue will none,
Or their thought of faith may growe
But to this, to think 'twas soe.
This lesson you must pearse to' th' truth
And know (faire mistris) of yor youth
Death with it still walkes along
From Mattins to the Euensong,
From the Pickaxe to the spade,
To the tombe whert't must be layd.
Whether in the morne or noone
Of yor beawty death comes soone
And though his visage hung i' th' eare
Doth not to the sight appeare
At each warning hees as much
Know, to' th' hearing as the touch.
Place then this mirror whose briske hue

Of lines and colors make them scorne

This livery wch the greeke hath worne
Let them read this booke and learne
Their ayry coulors to discerne,
Twixt this and them this Gorgon showne
Turnes the beholders into stone.




Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net