Come, Anthea, let us two
Go to feast, as others do:
Tarts and custards, creams and cakes,
Are the junkets still at wakes;
Unto which the tribes resort,
Where the business is the sport:
Morris-dancers thou shalt see,
Marian, too, in pageantry;
And a mimic to devise
Many grinning properties.
Players there will be, and those
Base in action as in clothes;
Yet with strutting they will please
The incurious villages.
Near the dying of the day
There will be a cudgel-play,
Where a coxcomb will be broke,
Ere a good word can be spoke:
But the anger ends all here,
Drench’d in ale, or drown’d in beer.
–Happy rusticks! best content
With the cheapest merriment;
And possess no other fear,
Than to want the Wake next year.
(Robert Herrick)
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Based on Topics: Death & Dying Poems, Happiness Poems, Fear Poems, Anger Poems, Business & Commerce Poems, Sports Poems, Actions Poems, Property PoemsBased on Keywords: grinning, resort, cakes, merriment, villages, players, ale, devise, drench, mimic, pageantry