|
|
Upon Blinks. Epig.
By Robert Herrick
Tom Blinks his nose is full of weals, and these
Tom calls not pimples, but pimpleides;
Sometimes, in mirth, he says each whelk's a spark,
When drunk with beer, to light him home i' th' dark.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 301 times.
|
|