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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507293" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A New Year's Gift,sent To Sir Simeon Steward</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No news of navies burnt at seas;<br>No noise of late spawn'd tittyries;<br>No closet plot or open vent,<br>That frights men with a Parliament:<br>No new device or late-found trick,<br>To read by th' stars the kingdom's sick;<br>No gin to catch the State, or wring<br>The free-born nostril of the King,<br>We send to you; but here a jolly<br>Verse crown'd with ivy and with holly;<br>That tells of winter's tales and mirth<br>That milk-maids make about the hearth;<br>Of Christmas sports, the wassail-bowl,<br>That toss'd up, after Fox-i'-th'-hole;<br>Of Blind-man-buff, and of the care<br>That young men have to shoe the Mare;<br>Of twelf-tide cakes, of pease and beans,<br>Wherewith ye make those merry scenes,<br>Whenas ye chuse your king and queen,<br>And cry out, 'Hey for our town green!'--<br>Of ash-heaps, in the which ye use<br>Husbands and wives by streaks to chuse;<br>Of crackling laurel, which fore-sounds<br>A plenteous harvest to your grounds;<br>Of these, and such like things, for shift,<br>We send instead of New-year's gift.<br>--Read then, and when your faces shine<br>With buxom meat and cap'ring wine,<br>Remember us in cups full crown'd,<br>And let our city-health go round,<br>Quite through the young maids and the men,<br>To the ninth number, if not ten;<br>Until the fired chestnuts leap<br>For joy to see the fruits ye reap,<br>From the plump chalice and the cup<br>That tempts till it be tossed up.--<br>Then as ye sit about your embers,<br>Call not to mind those fled Decembers;<br>But think on these, that are t' appear,<br>As daughters to the instant year;<br>Sit crown'd with rose-buds, and carouse,<br>Till LIBER PATER twirls the house<br>About your ears, and lay upon<br>The year, your cares, that's fled and gone:<br>And let the russet swains the plough<br>And harrow hang up resting now;<br>And to the bag-pipe all address,<br>Till sleep takes place of weariness.<br>And thus throughout, with Christmas plays,<br>Frolic the full twelve holy-days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Herrick">Robert Herrick</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507293" data-title="A New Year's Gift,sent To Sir Simeon Steward de Robert Herrick" data-description="No news of navies burnt at seas;
No noise of late spawn'd tittyries;
No closet plot or open vent,
That frights men with a Parliament:
No new device or late-found trick,
To read by th' stars the kingdom's sick;
No gin to catch the State, or wring
T..."></div>
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