Skoles stinks so deadly, that his breeches loath
His dampish buttocks furthermore to clothe;
Cloy'd they are up with arse; but hope, one blast
Will whirl about, and blow them thence at last.
Upon Skoles. Epig
Robert Herrick
(1)
Poem topics: hope, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation