#EnglishWriters
Bid me to live, and I will live Thy protestant to be; Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee. A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
Ask me why I send you here This sweet Infanta of the year? Ask me why I send to you This Primrose, thus bepearl’d wit… I will whisper to your ears,—
See’st thou that cloud as silver c… Plump, soft, and swelling every wh… ’Tis Julia’s bed, and she sleeps…
Ah, my Perilla! dost thou grieve… Me, day by day, to steal away from… Age calls me hence, and my gray ha… And haste away to mine eternal hom… ‘Twill not be long, Perilla, afte…
Weigh me the fire; or canst thou f… A way to measure out the wind? Distinguish all those floods that… Mixed in that wat’ry theater, And taste thou them as saltless th…
Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill’d with flowers; And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours… You have beheld how they
Farewell thou thing, time past so… To me as blood to life and spirit;… Nay, thou more near than kindred,… Male to the female, soul to body;… To quick action, or the warm soft…
Whenas inn silks my Julia goes, Then, then, methinks, how sweetly… That liquefaction of her clothes. Next, when I cast mine eyes and s… That brave vibration each way free…
These fresh beauties, we can prove… Once were virgins, sick of love, Turn’d to flowers: still in some, Colours go and colours come.
Life is the body’s light; which, o… Those crimson clouds i’ th’ cheeks… Those counter-changed tabbies in t… The sun once set, all of one colou… So, when death comes, fresh tinctu…
Virgins promised when I died, That they would each primrose-tide Duly, morn and evening, come, And with flowers dress my tomb. —Having promised, pay your debts
Here a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall
Here she lies, in bed of spice, Fair as Eve in paradise; For her beauty, it was such, Poets could not praise too much. Virgins come, and in a ring
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…
Dew sate on Julia’s hair, And spangled too, Like leaves that laden are With trembling dew; Or glitter’d to my sight,