#EnglishWriters
Wilt thou love God, as he thee? T… My soul, this wholesome meditation… How God the Spirit, by angels wai… In heaven, doth make his Temple i… The Father having begot a Son mos…
Show me dear Christ, thy spouse s… What! is it she which on the other… Goes richly painted? or which, rob… Laments and mourns in Germany and… Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps…
Out of a fired ship, which by no w… But drowning could be rescued from… Some men leap’d forth, and ever as… Near the foes’ ships, did by their… So all were lost, which in the shi…
O might those sighs and tears retu… Into my breast and eyes, which I… That I might in this holy discont… Mourn with some fruit, as I have… In mine Idolatry what showers of…
At the round earth’s imagined corn… Your trumpets, angels, and arise,… From death, you numberless infinit… Of souls, and to your scattered bo… All whom the flood did, and fire s…
Stand still, and I will read to t… A lecture, love, in love’s philoso… These three hours that we have spe… Walking here, two shadows went Along with us, which we ourselves…
Now thou has loved me one whole da… Tomorrow when you leav’st, what wi… Wilt thou then antedate some new—m… Or say that now We are not just those persons whic…
I wonder, by my troth, what thou a… Did, till we loved? Were we not w… But sucked on country pleasures, c… Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepe… ’Twas so; but this, all pleasures…
No spring nor summer beauty hath s… As I have seen in one autumnal fa… Young beauties force our love, and… This doth but counsel, yet you can… If ‘twere a shame to love, here ’t…
Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and… The intelligence that moves, devot… And as the other Spheares, by bei… Subject to forraigne motion, lose… And being by others hurried every…
This is my play’s last scene; here… My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my… Idly, yet quickly run, hath this l… My span’s last inch, my minute’s l… And gluttonous death will instantl…
Death, be not proud, though some h… Mighty and dreadful, for thou art… For those whom thou think’st thou… Die not, poor Death, nor yet cans… From rest and sleep, which but thy…
I am unable, yonder beggar cries, To stand, or move; if he say true,…
So, so breake off this last lament… Which sucks two soules, and vapour… Turne thou ghost that way, and let… And let our selves benight our hap… We ask’d none leave to love; nor w…
I scarce believe my love to be so… As I had thought it was, Because it doth endure Vicissitude, and season, as the gr… Methinks I lied all winter, when…