Upon His Gray Hairs
Fly me not, though I be gray,
Lady, this I know you'll say;
Better look the roses red,
When with white commingled.
Black your hairs are; mine are white;
This begets the more delight,
When things meet most opposite;
As in pictures we descry
Venus standing Vulcan by.
Robert Herrick
The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets.
Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.