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Welcome back to The Daily Poem. I'm David Kern, and today is Monday, August 24th, 2020. Today's poem is by Robert Herrick,

who was an English poet who lived from 1591 to 1674. His birthday, or at least his baptized day,

was August 24th today, and as with many of the poems that I've been reading, it is by a poet who

has an August's birthday. There's so many of them that I've been turning to some of their poems

over the last few weeks of this month. And the poem that I'm going to read today is called

The Argument of his book. I'll read it once, offer a few comments with the help of Carol Ruhman's

whose weekly column I occasionally turn to over in The Guardian and offer a little bit perhaps on

Robert Herrick's life as well. So here is the argument of his book by Robert Herrick.

I sing of Brooksoks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, of April, May, of June, and July flowers.

I sing of maples, hawk carts, wassales, wakes, of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes.

I write of youth, of love, and have access by these to sing of cleanly wantonness.

I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece, of balm, of oil, of spice and ambergris.

I sing of times trans-shifting, and I write how roses first came red and lilies white.

I write of groves, of twilights,

and I sing the court of mob

...