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Robert Herrick - To His Peculiar Friend, Mr John Wicks
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Since shed or cottage I have none,
I sing the more, that thou hast one;
To whose glad threshold, and free door
I may a Poet come, though poor;
And eat with thee a savoury bit,
Paying but common thanks for it.
—Yet should I chance, my Wicks, to see
An over-leaven look in thee,
To sour the bread, and turn the beer
To an exalted vinegar;
Or should`st thou prize me as a dish
Of thrice-boil`d worts, or third-day`s fish,
I`d rather hungry go and come
Than to thy house be burdensome;
Yet, in my depth of grief, I`d be
One that should drop his beads for thee.
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