Upon Hog.

Hog has a place i' the' kitchen, and his share,
The flimsy livers and blue gizzards are.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

Draw And Drink.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Meat Without Mirth.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Lily In A Crystal

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Want

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Upon Spokes.

Spokes, when he sees a roasted pig, he swears
Nothing he loves on't but the chaps and ears:
But carve to him the fat flanks, and he shall
Rid these, and those, and part by part eat all.

Robert Herrick

Upon Shark. Epig.

Shark, when he goes to any public feast,
Eats to one's thinking, of all there, the least.
What saves the master of the house thereby
When if the servants search, they may descry
In his wide codpiece, dinner being done,
Two napkins cramm'd up, and a silver spoon?

Robert Herrick

Upon Skinns. Epig.

Skinns, he dined well to-day: how do you think?
His nails they were his meat, his rheum the drink.

Robert Herrick

Another To Bring In The Witch.

To house the hag, you must do this:
Commix with meal a little piss
Of him bewitch'd; then forthwith make
A little wafer or a cake;
And this rawly bak'd will bring
The old hag in. No surer thing.

Robert Herrick

The Epic Of The Hog.

(Man's Inhumanity to Hogs Makes Countless Thousands Squeal.)


I lived upon a little farm,
    A happy hog was I,
I never dreamed of any harm
    Nor ever thought to die.

All day I wallowed in the mud,
    And ate the choicest slops.
I watched the brindles chew their cud--
    The farmer tend his crops.

Upon the hottest days I'd go
    And flounder in the river--
I thought that hogs might come and go,
    But I would live forever.

Then finally I waxed so fat
    That I could hardly walk,
And then the farmers gather 'round
    And all began to talk.

I couldn't understand a word,
    All I did was grunt;
You see that's all a hog can do--
    It is his only stunt.

But finally they took me out
 ...

Edwin C. Ranck

Great Boast Small Roast.

Of flanks and chines of beef doth Gorrell boast
He has at home; but who tastes boil'd or roast?
Look in his brine-tub, and you shall find there
Two stiff blue pigs'-feet and a sow's cleft ear.

Robert Herrick