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'Tis not ev'ry day that I
Fitted am to prophesy:
No, but when the spirit fills
The fantastic pannicles,
Full of fire, then I write
As the Godhead doth indite.
Thus enraged, my lines are hurl'd,
Like the Sibyl's, through the world:
Look how next the holy fire
Either slakes, or doth retire;
So the fancy cools:--till when
That brave spirit comes again.

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Robert Herrick

Robert Welch Herrick was a novelist who was part of a new generation of American realists. more…

All Robert Herrick poems | Robert Herrick Books

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"Poetry.net" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2016. Web. 28 Jun 2016. <http://www.poetry.net/>.

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