Not to know vice at all, and keepe… Is vertue, and not Fate: Next, to that vertue, is to know v… And her black spight expell. Which to effect (since no brest is…
This morning, timely rapt with hol… I thought to form unto my zealous… What kind of creature I could mos… To honour, serve, and love; as poe… I meant to make her fair, and free…
The owl is abroad, the bat, and th… And so is the cat-a-mountain, The ant and the mole sit both in a… And the frog peeps out o’ the foun… The dogs they do bay, and the timb…
See the chariot at hand here of L… Wherein my lady rideth! Each that draws is a swan or a dov… And well the car Love guideth. As she goes, all hearts do duty
HIGH-SPIRITED friend, I send nor balms nor cor’sives to… Your fate hath found A gentler and more agile hand to t… The cure of that which is but corp…
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on… Am I thus ample to thy book and f… While I confess thy writings to b… As neither man nor muse can praise… 'Tis true, and all men’s suffrage.…
Queen and huntress, chaste and fai… Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light,
I have no children: But tonight a poem came in which a small child, my daughter, appeared at the door of a half-lit room
Fine madam Would-Be, wherefore sh… That love to make so well, a child… The world reputes you barren: but… Your 'pothecary, and his drug says… Is it the pain affrights? That’s…
Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I’ll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth…
if only for ten minutes after the mass feeding of schoolch… after the careful inanity of the s… at low tide this was the place
Have you seen but a bright lily gr… Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of sn… Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool of beaver,
Walking, snow falling, it is possi… to focus at various distances in turn on separate flakes, sharpl… the attention at several spatial p… the nearer cold and more uncomfort…
Come, my Celia, let us prove While we may, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever; He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Epitaphs i WOULDST thou hear what Man can… In a little? Reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much Beauty as could die:
