Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures pro
Of golden sands, and crystal brook
With silken lines, and silver hook
There will the river whispering ru

But our Great Turks in wit must r
And ill can bear a Brother on the
Wit is like faith by such warm Fo
Who to be saved by one, must damn
Some who grow dull religious strai

To meet, to know, to love—and then
Is the sad tale of many a human he

I am for Cutting. I’m a blade
Designed for use at dress parade.
My gleaming length, when I displa
Peace rules the land with gentle s
But when the war-dogs bare their t

Poet of love, I sing here my whol
Ah, might I all deeds dare, love
Make I at least your praise, chap
Each dear delight of your told to
Let me your sweetnesses, O child,

Out of great wisdom, long stored u
I would write me a rune of the Me
Out of experience, grave and gay,
I would raise me a rhyme to the ga
With words of wisdom then let us b

L’amour tendre literie
Dont mon cœur est l’édredon
Trouble
Si mollement mes membres
Légèrement mes lèvres

Le printemps vient, que tout s’emp
À fêter l’âge des amours :
Quand sied-il mieux de chanter la
Que dans la saison des …

Un maçon habillé en militaire
saute le mur de la caserne
et va poser la première pierre
du premier mur de sa maison
Mais les murmures des hommes des c

Porte
Saint-Martin,
Porte
Saint-Denis,
Voir briller la lune à travers la

Je n’aime plus la rue
Saint-Martin
Depuis qu’André
Platard l’a quittée.
Je n’aime plus la rue

Couchons-nous sur le pavé,
Par le soleil chauffé, par le sole
Dans la bonne odeur de poussière
De la journée achevée,
Avant la nuit levée,

Quand le train partira n’agite pas
Ni ton mouchoir, ni ton ombrelle,
Mais emplis un verre de vin
Et lance vers le train dont chante
La longue flamme du vin,

La belle, si tu vevix, je ferai to
Dans le décor sanglant de ma bouti
Mes couteaux seront les miroirs ma
Où le jour se lève, éclate et pâli
Je ferai ton lit creux et chaud

White founts falling in the courts
And the Soldan of Byzantium is sm
There is laughter like the fountai
It stirs the forest darkness, the
It curls the blood—red …

A SWEET disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace which here and ther

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

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

Get up, get up for shame, the Blo
Upon her wings presents the god un
See how Aurora throwes her faire
Fresh—quilted colours through the
Get up, sweet—Slug—a—bed, and

From the dull confines of the droo
To see the day spring from the pre
Ravish’d in spirit, I come, nay m
To thee, blest place of my nativit
Thus, thus with hallow’d foot I t

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, bir
Of April, May, of June, and July
I sing of May—poles, hock—carts,
Of bridegrooms, brides, and of the
I write of youth, of love, and hav

Dull to myself, and almost dead to
My many fresh and fragrant mistres
Lost to all music now, since every
Puts on the semblance here of sorr
Sick is the land to th’ heart, and

Can I not sin, but thou wilt be
My private protonotary?
Can I not woo thee to pass by
A short and sweet iniquity?
I’ll cast a mist and cloud upon

In sober mornings do thou not rehe
The holy incantation of a verse;
But when that men have both well d
Let my enchantments then be sung,
When laurel spurts i’ th’ fire, an

Be the mistress of my choice,
Clean in manners, clear in voice;
Be she witty, more than wise,
Pure enough, though not precise;
Be she showing in her dress,

I have lost, and lately, these
Many dainty mistresses:
Stately Julia, prime of all;
Sappho next, a principal;
Smooth Anthea, for a skin

Old Parson Beanes hunts six days
And on the seventh, he has his not
Six days he hollows so much breath
That on the seventh he can nor pre

That’s my last Duchess painted on
Looking as if she were alive. I c
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pan
Worked busily a day, and there she
Will’t please you sit and look at