#EnglishWriters
Ancient Person, for whom I All the flattering youth defy, Long be it e’er thou grow old, Aching, shaking, crazy cold; But still continue as thou art,
God bless our good and gracious ki… Whose promise none relies on, Who never said a foolish thing, Nor ever did a wise one.
Were I - who to my cost already a… One of those strange, prodigious c… A spirit free to choose for my own… What sort of flesh and blood I pl… I’d be a dog, a monkey, or a bear,
Absent from thee, I languish stil… Then ask me not, When I return? The straying fool 'twill plainly k… To wish all day, all night to mour… Dear, from thine arms then let me…
I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since that poor swain, that sighs… For you alone was born. No, Phyllis, no, your heart to mo…
My light thou art, without thy glo… My eyes are darkened with eternal… My Love, thou art my way, my life… Thou art my way, I wander if thou… Thou art my light, if hid, how bli…
Methinks I see you, newly risen From your embroider’d Bed and pis… With studied mien and much grimace… Present yourself before your glass… To vanish and smooth o’er those gr…
Absent from thee I languish still… Then ask me not, when I return? The straying fool 'twill plainly k… To wish all day, all night to mour… Dear! from thine arms then let me…
Were I (who to my cost already am One of those strange prodigious C… A Spirit free, to choose for my o… What Case of Flesh, and Blood, I… I’d be a Dog, a Monkey, or a Bea…
After Death nothing is, and nothi… The utmost limit of a gasp of brea… Let the ambitious zealot lay aside His hopes of heaven, whose faith i… Let slavish souls lay by their fea…
My dear mistress has a heart Soft as those kind looks she gave… When with love’s resistless art, And her eyes, she did enslave me; But her constancy’s so weak,
You ladies of merry England Who have been to kiss the Duchess… Pray, did you not lately observe i… A noble Italian called Signior D… This signior was one of the Duche…
As some brave admiral, in former w… Deprived of force, but pressed wit… Two rival fleets appearing from af… Crawls to the top of an adjacent h… From whence (with thoughts full of…
All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams giv’n o’er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone.
Tell me no more of constancy, The frivolous pretense Of old age, narrow jealousy, Disease, and want of sense. Let duller fools on whom kind chan…
