‘Cherry ripe…’

…from the quills of the dead white poet

Robert Herrick (1591 – 1674)

Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,

Full and fair ones; come and buy:

If so be, you ask me where

They do grow? I answer, ‘There,

When my Julia’s lips do smile

There’s the land, or Cherry Isle:

Whose plantation fully show

All the years, where Cherries grow.

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