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The Parting Verse, The Feast There Ended.
By Robert Herrick
Loth to depart, but yet at last each one
Back must now go to's habitation;
Not knowing thus much when we once do sever,
Whether or no that we shall meet here ever.
As for myself, since time a thousand cares
And griefs hath filed upon my silver hairs,
'Tis to be doubted whether I next year
Or no shall give ye a re-meeting here.
If die I must, then my last vow shall be,
You'll with a tear or two remember me.
Your sometime poet; but if fates do give
Me longer date and more fresh springs to live,
Oft as your field shall her old age renew,
Herrick shall make the meadow-verse for you.
Extra Info:
Hath filed upon my silver hairs. Cp. Ben Jonson, The King's Entertainment:--
"What all the minutes, hours, weeks, months, and years
That hang in file upon these silver hairs
Could not produce," etc.
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