English poem

On Himself.

Ask me why I do not sing To the tension of the string As I did not long ago, When my numbers full did flow? Grief, ay, me! hath struck my lute And my tongue, at one time, mute.

More by Robert Herrick

On Himself
On Himself
On Himself (2)
On Himself.
On Himself.
On Himself.
On Himself.
On Himself.

All 1426 poems by Robert Herrick