Rose-cheek’d Laura, come, Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty… Silent music, either other Sweetly gracing. Lovely forms do flow

Thrice toss these oaken ashes in t… Thrice sit thou mute in this encha… Then thrice three times tie up thi… And murmur soft ‘She will, or she… Go burn these pois’nous weeds in y…

Now winter nights enlarge This number of their hours; And clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers. Let now the chimneys blaze

There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies grow; A heav’nly paradise is that place Wherein all pleasant fruits do flo… There cherries grow which none may…

NEVER weather-beaten sail more w… Never tired pilgrim’s limbs affect… Than my wearied sprite now longs t… O come quickly, sweetest Lord, an… Ever blooming are the joys of heav…

When thou must home to shades of u… And there arriv’d, a new admired g… The beauteous spirits do engirt th… White Iope, blithe Helen, and the… To hear the stories of thy finish’…

OF Neptune’s empire let us sing, At whose command the waves obey; To whom the rivers tribute pay, Down the high mountains sliding: To whom the scaly nation yields

FOLLOW your saint, follow with… Haste you, sad notes, fall at her… There, wrapt in cloud of sorrow, p… And tell the ravisher of my soul… But if she scorns my never-ceasing…

WHEN thou must home to shades of… And there arrived, a new admired g… The beauteous spirits do engirt th… White Iope, blithe Helen, and the… To hear the stories of thy finish’…

FOLLOW thy fair sun, unhappy sh…    Though thou be black as night,    And she made all of light, Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy s… Follow her, whose light thy light…

Thrice toss these oaken ashes in t… Thrice sit thou mute in this encha… Then thrice three times tie up thi… And murmur soft ‘She will, or she… Go burn these pois’nous weeds in y…

My sweetest Lesbia, let us live a… And though the sager sort our deed… Let us not weigh them. Heaven’s g… Into their west, and straight agai… But soon as once set is our little…

Jack and Joan they think no ill, But loving live, and merry still; Do their week-days’ work, and pray Devoutly on the holy day: Skip and trip it on the green,

When to her lute Corinna sings, Her voice revives the leaden strin… And doth in highest notes appear As any challenged echo clear. But when she doth of mourning spea…

THE man of life upright,    Whose guiltless heart is free From all dishonest deeds,    Or thought of vanity; The man whose silent days