A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

213. A HYMN TO LOVE

     I will confess
     With cheerfulness,
     Love is a thing so likes me,
     That, let her lay
     On me all day,
     I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.

     I will not, I,
     Now blubb'ring cry,
     It, ah!  too late repents me
     That I did fall
     To love at all—
     Since love so much contents me.

     No, no, I'll be
     In fetters free;
     While others they sit wringing
     Their hands for pain,
     I'll entertain
     The wounds of love with singing.

     With flowers and wine,
     And cakes divine,
     To strike me I will tempt thee;
     Which done, no more
     I'll come before
     Thee and thine altars empty.