#EnglishWriters
SWEET western wind, whose luck i… Made rival with the air, To give Perenna’s lip a kiss, And fan her wanton hair: Bring me but one, I’ll promise th…
For those my unbaptized rhymes, Writ in my wild unhallowed times, For every sentence, clause, and wo… That’s not inlaid with Thee, my L… Forgive me, God, and blot each li…
So Good-Luck came, and on my roof… Like noiseless snow, or as the dew… Not all at once, but gently,- as t… Are by the sun-beams, tickled by d…
Want is a softer wax, that takes t… This, that, and every base impress…
Play, Phoebus, on thy lute, And we will sit all mute; By listening to thy lyre, That sets all ears on fire. Hark, hark! the God does play!
In this little Urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.
Hapcot! To thee the Fairy State I with discretion, dedicate. Because thou prizest things that a… Curious, and un-familiar. Take first the feast; these dishes…
Every time seems short to be That’s measured by felicity; But one half-hour that’s made up h… With grief, seems longer than a ye…
Give way, give way, ye gates, and… An easy blessing to your bin And basket, by our entering in. May both with manchet stand replet… Your larders, too, so hung with me…
Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roa… Far safer ’twere to stay at home; Where thou mayst sit, and piping,… The poor and private cottages. Since cotes and hamlets best agree
Love is a circle, that doth restle… In the same sweet eternity of Lov…
Ah Ben! Say how or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun,
I dare not ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile; Lest having that, or this, I might grow proud the while. No, no, the utmost share
Great cities seldom rest; if there… T’ invade from far, they’ll find w…
HAVE ye beheld (with much deligh… A red rose peeping through a white… Or else a cherry, double grac’d, Within a lily centre plac’d? Or ever mark’d the pretty beam