#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
When forty winters shall besiege t… And dig deep trenches in thy beaut… Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed… Will be a tatter’d weed, of small… Then being ask’d where all thy bea…
What’s in the brain that ink may c… Which hath not figured to thee my… What’s new to speak, what now to r… That may express my love, or thy d… Nothing, sweet boy, but yet, like…
Lo, as a careful housewife runs to… One of her feather’d creatures bro… Sets down her babe, and makes all… In pursuit of the thing she would… Whilst her neglected child holds h…
Crabbed Age and Youth Cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care; Youth like summer morn,
Why is my verse so barren of new p… So far from variation or quick cha… Why with the time do I not glance… To new-found methods, and to compo… Why write I still all one, ever t…
How heavy do I journey on the way… When what I seek, my weary travel… Doth teach that case and that repo… “Thus far the miles are measured f… The beast that bears me, tired wit…
The forward violet thus did I chi… Sweet thief, whence didst thou ste… If not from my love’s breath? The… Which on thy soft cheek for comple… In my love’s veins thou hast too g…
Betwixt mine eye and heart a leagu… And each doth good turns now unto… When that mine eye is famished for… Or heart in love with sighs himsel… With my love’s picture then my eye…
Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire! I do wander everywhere,
That time of year thou mayst in me… When yellow leaves, or none, or fe… Upon those boughs which shake agai… Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the… In me thou see’st the twilight of…
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it… Thy edge should blunter be than ap… Which but to—day by feeding is all… To—morrow sharpened in his former… So, love, be thou, although to—day…
Our revels now are ended. These o… As I foretold you, were all spiri… Are melted into air, into thin air… And, like the baseless fabric of t… The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorge…
Thy bosom is endeared with all hea… Which I by lacking have supposed… And there reigns Love, and all Lo… And all those friends which I tho… How many a holy and obsequious tea…
Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird’s throat, Come hither, come hither, come hit…
So, now I have confessed that he… And I my self am mortgaged to thy… Myself I’ll forfeit, so that othe… Thou wilt restore to be my comfort… But thou wilt not, nor he will not…