TO GROVES. by Robert Herrick YE silent shades, whose each tree here Some relique of a saint doth wear, Who for some sweetheart's sake, did prove The fire and martyrdom of Love : Here is the legend of those saints That died for love, and their complaints : Their wounded hearts, and names we find Encarv'd upon the leaves and rind. Give way, give way to me, who come Scorch'd with the self-same martyrdom : And have deserv'd as much (love knows) As to be canonis'd 'mongst those Whose deeds and deaths here written are Within your greeny calendar : By all those virgins' fillets hung Upon! your boughs, and requiems sung For saints and souls departed hence (Here honour'd still with frankincense) ; By all those tears that have been shed, As a drink-offering to the dead ; By all those true love-knots that be With mottoes carv'd on every tree ; By sweet Saint Phyllis pity me : By dear Saint Iphis, and the rest Of all those other saints now blest, Me, me, forsaken, here admit Among your myrtles to be writ : That my poor name may have the glory To live remembered in your story. Phyllis, the Thracian princess who hanged herself for love of Demophoon. Iphis, a Cyprian youth who hanged himself for love of Anaxaretes. Source: Herrick, Robert. Works of Robert Herrick. vol I. Alfred Pollard, ed. London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891. 211-212.
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