A Conjuration To Electra

A poem by Robert Herrick

By those soft tods of wool
With which the air is full;
By all those tinctures there,
That paint the hemisphere;
By dews and drizzling rain
That swell the golden grain;
By all those sweets that be
I' the flowery nunnery;
By silent nights, and the
Three forms of Hecate;
By all aspects that bless
The sober sorceress,
While juice she strains, and pith
To make her philters with;
By time that hastens on
Things to perfection;
And by yourself, the best
Conjurement of the rest:
O my Electra! be
In love with none but me.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'A Conjuration To Electra' by Robert Herrick

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy