Anacreontic

A poem by Robert Herrick

Born I was to be old,
And for to die here;
After that, in the mould
Long for to lie here.
But before that day comes,
Still I be bousing;
For I know, in the tombs
There's no carousing.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Anacreontic' by Robert Herrick

comments powered by Disqus