An Ode For Ben Jonson

Robert Herrick

                Ah Ben!
            Say how, or when
            Shall we thy guests
        Meet at those lyric feasts
            Made at the Sun,
        The Dog, the Triple Tun?
        Where we such clusters had
    As made us nobly wild, not mad;
        And yet each verse of thine
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
                My Ben
            Or come again,
            Or send to us
        Thy wit's great overplus;
            But teach us yet
        Wisely to husband it;
        Lest we that talent spend,
    And having once brought to an end
        That precious stock, the store
Of such a wit the world should have no more.

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