#EnglishWriters
First offer incense; then, thy fie… Shall smile and smell the better b… The spangling dew dredged o’er the… Turn’d all to mell and manna there… Butter of amber, cream, and wine,…
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…
You are a Tulip seen to-day, But, Dearest, of so short a stay, That where you grew, scarce man ca… You are a lovely July-flower; Yet one rude wind, or ruffling sho…
Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, —'Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile, or does she frown;
First, for effusions due unto the… My solemn vows have here accomplis… Next, how I love thee, that my gr… Wherein thou liv’st for ever.—Dea…
These springs were maidens once th… But lost to that they most approve… My story tells, by Love they were Turn’d to these springs which we s… The pretty whimpering that they ma…
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
IN the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When I lie within my bed,
I call, I call: who do ye call? The maids to catch this cowslip ba… But since these cowslips fading be… Troth, leave the flowers, and maid… Yet, if that neither you will do,
When I thy singing next shall hea… I’ll wish I might turn all to ear… To drink-in notes and numbers, suc… As blessed souls can’t hear too mu… Then melted down, there let me lie
Time was upon The wing, to fly away; And I call’d on Him but awhile to stay; But he’d be gone,
Tell, if thou canst, and truly, wh… This camphire, storax, spikenard,… These musks, these ambers, and tho… Sweet as the Vestry of the Oracle… I’ll tell thee:—while my Julia di…
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here a-while, To blush and gently smile;
I will confess With cheerfulness, Love is a thing so likes me, That, let her lay On me all day,
For all our works a recompence is… ’Tis sweet to think on what was ha…