#EnglishWriters
I dreamed this mortal part of mine Was metamorphosed to a vine, Which crawling one and every way Enthralled my dainty Lucia. Methought her long small legs and…
For brave comportment, wit without… Words fully flowing, yet of influe… Thou art that man of men, the man… Worthy the public admiration: Who with thine own eyes read’st wh…
Fled are the frosts, and now the f… Reclothed in fresh and verdant dia… Thaw’d are the snows; and now the… Gives to each mead a neat enamelli… The palms put forth their gems, an…
Why, Madam, will ye longer weep, Whenas your baby’s lull’d asleep? And, pretty child, feels now no mo… Those pains it lately felt before. All now is silent; groans are fled…
Rare is the voice itself: but whe… To th’ lute or viol, then ’tis rav…
In prayer the lips ne’er act the w… Without the sweet concurrence of t…
My faithful friend, if you can see The fruit to grow up, or the tree; If you can see the colour come Into the blushing pear or plum; If you can see the water grow
Come, Sons of Summer, by whose to… We are the lords of wine and oil: By whose tough labours, and rough… We rip up first, then reap our lan… Crown’d with the ears of corn, now…
Among the myrtles as I walk’d Love and my sighs thus intertalk’d… Tell me, said I, in deep distress… Where I may find my Shepherdess? —Thou fool, said Love, know’st th…
In all thy need, be thou possest Still with a well prepared breast; Nor let the shackles make thee sad… Thou canst but have what others ha… And this for comfort thou must kno…
Dull to myself, and almost dead to… My many fresh and fragrant mistres… Lost to all music now, since every… Puts on the semblance here of sorr… Sick is the land to th’ heart, and…
In this little Urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.
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
Beauty no other thing is, than a b… Flash’d out between the middle and…
True mirth resides not in the smil… The sweetest solace is to act no s…
