Author: Robert Herrick
Cited by
- Philip K. Dick (1)
- IN: The Transmigration of Timothy Archer (1982) Fiction, American
EPIGRAPH: An Ode for him
Ah Ben!
Say how, or when Shall we thy Guests
Meet at those Lyrick Feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the triple Tunne?
Where we such clusters had,
As made us nobly wild, not mad; And yet each Verse of thine
Out-did the meate, out-did the frolick wine.
My Ben
Or come agen: Or send to us,
Thy wits great over-plus; But teach us yet Wisely to husband it;
Lest we that Talent spend:
And having once brought to an end That precious stock; the store
Of such a wit the world should have no more.
FROM: NULL, (1848), NULL, UK
- Nora Roberts (1)
- IN: Savour the Moment (2010) Fiction, American
EPIGRAPH: 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.
FROM: "Hesperides, (1648), Poem, UK
- Edward Marston (1)
- IN: The King's Evil (1999) Fiction, British
EPIGRAPH: O! lay that hand upon me
Adored Caesar! and my faith is such,
I shall be heal'd, if that my KING but touch.
The Evill is not yours: my sorrow sings,
Mine is the Evill, but the cure, the KINGS.
FROM: Hesperides, (1648), Book, UK
- Washington Irving (2)
- IN: Christmas Day (1820) Short Story, American
EPIGRAPH: Dark and dull night, flie hence away,
And give the honor to this day
That sees December turn'd to May.
. . . . . . .
Why does the chilling winter's morne
Smile like a field beset with corn?
Or smell like to a meade new-shorne,
Thus on the sudden? -come and see
The cause why things thus fragrant be.
FROM: A Christmas Carol, (1648), Poem, NULL
- IN: The Pride of the Village (1820) Short Story, American
EPIGRAPH: May no wolfe howle; no screech owle stir
A wing about thy sepulchre!
No boysterous winds or stormes come hither,
To starve or wither
Thy soft sweet earth! but, like a spring,
Love kept it ever flourishing.
FROM: The Dirge of Jephthah’s Daughter, (None), Poem, NULL