Author Robert Herrick When thou do'st play, and sweetly sing,Whether it be the voice or string,Or both of them, that do agreeThus to en-trance and ravish me:This, this I know, I'm oft struck mute;And dye away upon thy Lute. 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