Poem by Robert Herrick

To Anthea (Now is the time when all the lights wax dim)

Now is the time when all the lights wax dim;
And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him
Who was thy servant:  Dearest, bury me
Under that holy-oak, or gospel-tree;
Where, though thou see'st not, thou may'st think upon
Me, when thou yearly go'st procession;
Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb
In which thy sacred reliques shall have room;
For my embalming, Sweetest, there will be
No spices wanting, when I'm laid by thee.

1. His Last Request to Julia
2. Things Mortal Still Mutable (Epigram)
3. The Rock of Rubies, and the Quarry of Pearls
4. To Sapho
5. To Anthea (Anthea, I am going hence)

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