Author Robert Herrick Our Crosses are no other then the rods, And our Diseases, Vultures of the Gods: Each griefe we feele, that likewise is a Kite Sent forth by them, our flesh to eate, or bite. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments