634. To His Lovely Mistresses
One night i' th' year, my dearest beauties, comeAnd bring those due drink-offerings to my tomb.When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise,And there to lick th' effused sacrifice:Though paleness be the livery that I wear,Look ye not wan or colourless for fear.Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once showThe least grim look, or cast a frown on you:Nor shall the tapers when I'm there burn blue.This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by,Cast on my girls a glance and loving eye,Or fold mine arms and sigh, because I've lostThe world so soon, and in it you the most.Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall,Though then I smile and speak no words at all.
Words in this poem
- reverend a.
- Worthy of reverence; entitled to respect mingled with fear and affection; venerable. [F. révérend, L. reverendus, fr. revereri. See Revere.]
- ghost n.
- The spirit; the soul of man. [OE. gast, gost, soul, spirit, AS. gast breath, spirit, soul; akin to OS. g spirit, soul, D. geest, G. geist, and prob. to E. gaze, ghastly.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
634. To His Lovely Mistresses is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Hesperides & Noble Numbers: Vol. 1 and 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #22421; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert Herrick, 634. To His Lovely Mistresses, in Hesperides (1648), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #22421, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/herrick-hesperides/634-to-his-lovely-mistresses.html, id L05590.
Form and metre
634. To His Lovely Mistresses is 15 lines in a single stanza. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 82%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 20% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ----AA-BBCC--DD come · tomb · rise · sacrifice · wearA · fearA · show · youB · blueB · byC · eyeC · lost · most · fallD · allD
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| One night i' th' year, my dearest beauties, come | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| And bring those due drink-offerings to my tomb. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| And there to lick th' effused sacrifice: | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Though paleness be the livery that I wear, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Look ye not wan or colourless for fear. | 10 | ·········· |
| Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show | 10 | ·········· |
| The least grim look, or cast a frown on you: | 10 | ·········· |
| Nor shall the tapers when I'm there burn blue. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by, | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| Cast on my girls a glance and loving eye, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Or fold mine arms and sigh, because I've lost | 10 | ·········· |
| The world so soon, and in it you the most. | 10 | ·········· |
| Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Though then I smile and speak no words at all. | 10 | ·········· |
Notes from the edition 1
Word-glosses from Pollard's edition (Muses' Library, 1891; Project Gutenberg #22421).
- Fold mine arms: cp. "crossing his arms in this sad knot"
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