Back to Index

Love’s Play At Push-pin

by Robert Herrick, 1648

Love and myself, believe me, on a day
At childish push-pin, for our sport, did play;
I put, he pushed, and, heedless of my skin,
Love pricked my finger with a golden pin;
Since which it festers so that I can prove
’Twas but a trick to poison me with love:
Little the wound was, greater was the smart,
The finger bled, but burnt was all my heart.

Published in Hesperides

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.