Robert Herrick

Hell is no other but a soundlesse pit,
Where no one beame of comfort peeps in it.

Hell is no other but a soundlesse pit,
Where no one beame of comfort peeps in it.

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers:
Of April, May, of June, and July flowers.
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I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers:
Of April, May, of June, and July flowers.
I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes.

Praise they that will times past, I joy to see
My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.

Praise they that will times past, I joy to see
My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.

Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.

Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.

Out did the meate, out did the frolick wine.

Out did the meate, out did the frolick wine.