The Collar

By George Herbert

I struck the board, and cried, No more.

                                        I will abroad.

What? Shall I ever sigh and pine?

My lines and life are free; free as the road,

Loose as the wind, as large as store.

                                   Shall I be still in suit?

Have I no harvest but a thorn

To let me blood, and not restore

What I have I lost with cordial fruit?

                                     Shall there was wine

Before my sights did dry it: there was corn

                              Before my tears did drown it.

Is the year only lost to me?

                   Have I no bays to crown it?

No Flowers, no garlands gay? All blasted?

                                                        All wasted?

Not so my heart: but there is fruit,

                               And thou hast hands.

Recover all thy sigh blown age

On double pleasure: leave thy cold dispute

Of what is fit? And not, Forsake thy cage,

                               Thy rope of sands

Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee

Good cable, to enforce and draw,

                               And be thy law,

While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.

Away; take the heed:

I will abroad.

Call in thy death`s head there: tie up thy fears.

He that forbears

To suit and serve his need

                               Deserves his load.

But as I raved grew more fierce and wild

                               At every word,

Me thoughts I heard one calling, child

                                  And I replied, My lord.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s