NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE.
by Robert Herrick


'TIS not ev'ry day that I
Fitted am to prophesy ;
No ; but when the spirit fills
The fantastic pannicles
Full of fire, then I write
As the Godhead doth indite.
Thus enrag'd, my lines are hurled,
Like the Sybils, through the world.
Look how next the holy fire
Either slakes, or doth retire ;
So the fancy cools, till when
That brave spirit comes again.


Fantastic pannicles, brain cells of the imagination.

Source:
Herrick, Robert. Works of Robert Herrick. vol II.
Alfred Pollard, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891. 51.
Backto Works of Robert Herrick

Created by Anniina Jokinen on July 11, 1999.
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