For one so rarely tun'd to fit all parts,
For one to whom espous'd are all the arts,
Long have I sought for, but could never see
Them all concentr'd in one man, but thee.
Thus, thou that man art whom the fates conspir'd
To make but one, and that's thyself, admir'd.
To The Most Accomplished Gentleman, Master Edward Norgate, Clerk Of The Signet To His Majesty. Epig
Robert Herrick
(1)
Poem topics: never, long, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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