The poetical works of Robert Herrick | ||
To God.
Lord, I am like to Misletoe,Which has no root, and cannot grow,
Or prosper, but by that same tree
It clings about; so I by Thee.
What need I then to feare at all,
So long as I about Thee craule?
But if that Tree sho'd fall, and die,
Tumble shall heav'n, and down will I.
The poetical works of Robert Herrick | ||