New-York tribune., 1900-08-04
IS. PiccadiIIy,
London, Dealer In
old Mss. Early
Printed Books and General Literature. Agent
for Learned Societies.

springtime and twilight. dew and pain, and the
buds of spring are eterndl-SWeet now as then.
welcome now TO US as then 10 him, whose dust
lies near my footsteps in this musical resting
place of the dead.
The open eyes OF the flowers are winkfng his
metres TO me. He saw them; he WOve an en-
during string of diamonds from the dew in
danOdlI, fashioned rare gems from the violet
and the primrose, the herb and the tree. the
c-ean glory of dawn and the ripe splendOrS Of
sunsets All materials were good If sweet and
N color pure. Musk and amber, opal and ivory
are the settings OF his jewels, but these are for
gotten before the poets part. There az his
hlghest-and by his highest only shall a dead
man be rated-he walks hand in hand with
Nature and the Beautiful
cool air dries the dew of the churchyard:
1ackdaWS chime a hove the beIfrv. great humble
Lees tumble in the sweet hyaCinths and struggle
over the grasses. their thighs overladen with
flower pollen; and all tell of Herrick The es-
sence OF his verse haUnts his grave forever
Many places know MT for the sleep OF poets
yet none more in keeping with the particular
dust of its own singer than this. For round
aGOOt are the scenes he saw. the sounds he
beard and turned 10 music. the unChanging
bosoms OF hills; the leaf and flower and berry
IN It's season, and the human nature OF the SOL
whose self changes not.
Pretty women live here still though sweet
eplthal9mlums are no longer sung for them
When they come 10 their destiny. little children
faIl OF untimely, good men go 10 their rest; and
the life of the hamlet-itS sorrows and Joys
hopes Of harvest and OF heaVen-unFoId in one
story. whose chapters are the seasons. whOss
sentences are records Of human prosperity Or
reverse in the lap of Nature. whose. periods are
the graves. Here blind Time. feeling those
MOUNDS under the old yeVS. reads the writing
and knows his own progress.
Ihe thought OF death moved HerTiCk also, and
never a man wrote with greater love and faith
OF those who passed before him Yet for hEl
self he craved stone. and il may be thai
when his aged dust was lowered into the rsa
% earth here. the many who mourned him com
piled with that special desire in this matter. 1T
tered in verse and raised no monument.
II matters little enough to-day. To those wne
esteem him precious. every leaf whispers bis
name, every flower writes il on the grasses
every bird sings it from the white thorn
laid out for dead let thy last kindnesse be
with leaves and uOSSe-wOrk for 20 cover me
And while the Wood-nimphs my cold corps
Sing then my Dirge, sveeI-warbIius Chorister!
For Epitaph. in Foliage next write this.
here. here the Tomb Of Robin HerriCk Is,
Forget this and that; set aside without any
pious comment the matters not necessary 70 re.
member Men make no ado when they elscs
the bitter stone OF a muScat- The grapes tls
thlng. Remember that our HeTrIck WI4ss
"Corinna's Going MayinS" To Vi0letS, HS
Poetrie his Pillar" ITO NIuSiQue To Pril.
roses flled with Morning Dew To Anthea
a Nuptiall Song. or Epithalamis. on Sir CupS~S,
by Crew and his Lady To DaftadiuS. -
blossoms The NiSht-pieCe. To Jul.a, anu
half hun 1red more gems from "HesperideS
and 'Hls Lttauie, To the Holy Spirit - =
Thanksgiving to God, for his House, Ins
Dlrcc Of Jephthah'S Daughter" and The DIS.
of Dorcas" in Noble Numbers" No Sweetel
quainter, more delicious music ever came out "a
Devon. and while the elect sriI love laugh anu
a lyric, our mClodous Robin shall enloy IA
place
Not all thy flushing SUnnes are set,
Herrick. as Yet:
Nor doth this sar-dCawn Hemisphere
Frown, and look sullen ev'ry where.
DaieS may conclude in nights; and suns MAJ
AS dead within the West;
Yet the next Morne. re-guiid the fragrant saS'