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Her Bed: Poem by Robert Herrick

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See'st thou that cloud as silver clear,
Plump, soft, and swelling every where?
'Tis Julia's bed, and she sleeps there.

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More poems by Robert Herrick

  • An Epitaph Upon A Virgin
  • Sweet Disorder
  • A Conjuration: To Electra
  • A Dialogue Betwixt Himself And Mistress Elizawheeler, Under The Name Of Amarillis
  • A New Year's Gift,Sent To Sir Simeon Steward
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