Robert Herrick (1591–1674)

DROOP, droop, no more, or hang the head,

Ye roses almost witherèd;

Now strength and newer purple get,

Each here declining violet;

O primroses! let this day be

A resurrection unto ye,

And to all flowers allied in blood,

Or sworn to that sweet sisterhood:

For health on Julia’s cheek hath shed

Claret and cream comminglèd;

And those her lips do now appear

As beams of coral, but more clear.