#EnglishWriters #XVICentury #XVIICentury
I grant thou wert not married to m… And therefore mayst without attain… The dedicated words which writers… Of their fair subject, blessing ev… Thou art as fair in knowledge as i…
ROSES, their sharp spines being… Not royal in their smells alone, But in their hue; Maiden pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quain…
Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies… Cozening the pillow of a lawful ki… Who, therefore angry, seems to par… Swelling on either side to want hi… Between whose hills her head entom…
Against my love shall be, as I am… With Time’s injurious hand crushe… When hours have drained his blood… With lines and wrinkles; when his… Hath travelled on to age’s steepy…
Lo! in the orient when the graciou… Lifts up his burning head, each un… Doth homage to his new-appearing s… Serving with looks his sacred maje… And having climb’d the steep-up he…
When in the chronicle of wasted ti… I see descriptions of the fairest… And beauty making beautiful old rh… In praise of ladies dead, and love… Then, in the blazon of sweet beaut…
All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely p… They have their exits and their en… And one man in his time plays many… His acts being seven ages. At fir…
To me, fair friend, you never can… For as you were when first your ey… Such seems your beauty still. Thr… Have from the forests shook three… Three beauteous springs to yellow…
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like… Coral is far more red than her lip… If snow be white, why then her bre… If hairs be wires, black wires gro… I have seen roses damasked, red an…
Beshrew that heart that makes my h… For that deep wound it gives my fr… Is’t not enough to torture me alon… But slave to slavery my sweet’st f… Me from my self thy cruel eye hath…
O, how I faint when I of you do w… Knowing a better spirit doth use y… And in the praise thereof spends a… To make me tongue-tied, speaking o… But since your worth, wide as the…
When to the sessions of sweet sile… I summon up remembrance of things… I sigh the lack of many a thing I… And with old woes new wail my dear… Then can I drown an eye, unus’d t…
Fear no more the heat o’ the sun; Nor the furious winter’s rages, Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages… Golden lads and girls all must,
Shall I compare thee to a summer’… Thou art more lovely and more temp… Rough winds do shake the darling b… And summer’s lease hath all too sh… Sometime too hot the eye of heaven…