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His Poetry His Pillar

by Robert Herrick, 1648

Only a little more
  I have to write,
  Then I’ll give o’er,
And bid the world good-night.

’Tis but a flying minute
  That I must stay,
  Or linger in it;
And then I must away.

O time that cut’st down all
  And scarce leav’st here
Of any men that were.

How many lie forgot
  In vaults beneath?
  And piecemeal rot
Without a fame in death?

Behold this living stone
  I rear for me,
  Ne’er to be thrown
Down, envious Time, by thee.

Pillars let some set up
  If so they please:
  Here is my hope
And my Pyramides.

Published in Hesperides

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