#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
At draw-gloves we’ll play, And prithee let’s lay A wager, and let it be this: Who first to the sum Of twenty shall come,
THE APPARITION OF HIS… CALLING HIM TO ELYSIUM DESUNT NONNULLA— Come then, and like two doves with… Let our souls fly to th’ shades, w…
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…
Lord, Thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell, A little house, whose humble roof Is weather—proof: Under the spars of which I lie
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles t… To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the s…
I bring ye love. QUES. What wi… ANS. Like, and dislike ye. I bring ye love. QUES. What wi… ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye. I bring ye love. QUES. What wi…
You say I love not, 'cause I do n… Still with your curls, and kiss th… You blame me, too, because I can’… Some sport, to please those babies… By Love’s religion, I must here c…
Come, sit we under yonder tree, Where merry as the maids we’ll be; And as on primroses we sit, We’ll venture, if we can, at wit; If not, at draw-gloves we will pla…
Am I despised, because you say; And I dare swear, that I am gray? Know, Lady, you have but your day… And time will come when you shall… Such frost and snow upon your hair…
Chorus. What sweeter music can we bring, Than a Carol, for to sing The Birth of this our heavenly Ki… Awake the Voice! Awake the Strin…
Holy-Rood, come forth and shield Us i’ th’ city and the field; Safely guard us, now and aye, From the blast that burns by day; And those sounds that us affright
In this little Urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.
Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Then, then (methinks) how sweetly… That liquefaction of her clothes. Next, when I cast mine eyes, and… That brave vibration each way free…
Sapho, I will chuse to go Where the northern winds do blow Endless ice, and endless snow; Rather than I once would see But a winter’s face in thee,—
When I consider, dearest, thou do… But here awhile, to languish and d… Like to these garden glories, whic… The flowery-sweet resemblances of… With grief of heart, methinks, I…
