Anacreontic – by Robert Herrick (1868 – 1938)


I must
Not trust
Here to any;
By so many:
As one
By my losses;
Will I
With my crosses;
Yet still
I will
Not be grieving,
Since thence
And hence
Comes relieving.
But this
Sweet is
In our mourning;
Times bad
And sad
Are a-turning:
And he
Whom we
See dejected,
Next day
We may
See erected.

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