#EnglishWriters
The Argument. He goes to Timnah: as he went He slew a lyon by the way; He sues, obtaines the maid’s conse… And they appoint tlie marriage-day…
The world’s an Inn; and I her gue… I eat; I drink; I take my rest. My hostess, nature, does deny me Nothing, wherewith she can supply… Where, having stayed a while, I p…
E’EN like two little bank-dividin… That wash the pebbles with thei… And having ranged and search’d a t… Meet both at length in silver-b… Where in a greater current they…
Close now thine eyes and rest secu… Thy soul is safe enough, thy body… He that loves thee, He that keeps And guards thee, never slumbers, n… The smiling conscience in a sleepi…
The Argument. The Ninivites beleeve the word, Their hearts retiu’ne mito the Lo… In him they put their onely trust; They niourne in sackcloth and in d…
I love (and have some cause to lov… She is my Maker’s creature, there… She is my mother, for she gave me… She is my tender nurse; she gives… But what’s a creature, Lord, comp…
The world’s a theatre. The earth,… Placed in the midst: where both pr… Both rich and poor, fool, wise man… All act their parts in life’s shor… Our life’s a tragedy. Those secre…
* LIKE to the damaske rose you see… Or like the blossome on the tree, Or like the daintie flower of May… Or like the Morning to the day,
And what’s a life? A weary pilgri… Whose glory in one day doth fill t… With childhood, manhood, and decre… And what’s a life? The flourishin… Of the proud summer-meadow, which…
MY soul, sit thou a patient looke… Judge not the play before the play… Her plot hath many changes; every… Speaks a new scene; the last act c…
Hail! blessed Virgin, full of hea… Blest above all that sprang from h… Whose heaven-saluted womb brought… A blessed Savior and a blessed So… O what a ravishment 't had been to…
No, no, he is not dead ; the mouth… Honor’s shrill herald, would prese… And make it live in spight of deat… Were there no other heaven, no oth… He is not dead: the sacred nine de…
GOE, glorious saint! I knew ’twa… Of flesh could lodge so pure a sou… I saw it labour (in a holy scorne Of living dust and ashes) to be sw… A heavenly quirister: it sigh’d an…
Mors Christi. And am I here, and my Redeemer go… Can he be dead, and is not my life… Was he tormented in excesse of mea… And doe I live yet? and yet live…
E’EN like two little bank-dividin… That wash the pebbles with their w… And having ranged and search’d a t… Meet both at length in silver-brea… Where in a greater current they co…