by Robert Herrick

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-looks 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-boiled 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.

Worts, cabbages.
Drop his beads, i.e., pray.

Herrick, Robert. Works of Robert Herrick. vol II.
Alfred Pollard, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891. 150.

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