#EnglishWriters
Sapho, I will chuse to go Where the northern winds do blow Endless ice, and endless snow; Rather than I once would see But a winter’s face in thee,—
I will confess With cheerfulness, Love is a thing so likes me, That, let her lay On me all day,
Things are uncertain; and the more… The more on icy pavements we are s…
Immortal clothing I put on So soon as, Julia, I am gone To mine eternal mansion. Thou, thou art here, to human sigh… Clothed all with incorrupted light…
By those soft tods of wool With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there, That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain
Pardon my trespass, Silvia! I co… My kiss out-went the bounds of sha… None is discreet at all times; no,… Himself, at one time, can be wise…
Be my mistress short or tall And distorted therewithall Be she likewise one of those That an acre hath of nose Be her teeth ill hung or set
Whither dost thou hurry me, Bacchus, being full of thee? This way, that way, that way, this… Here and there a fresh Love is; That doth like me, this doth pleas…
O thou, the wonder of all days! O paragon, and pearl of praise! O Virgin-martyr, ever blest Above the rest Of all the maiden-train! We come…
Let’s call for Hymen if agreed th… Delays in love but crucify the hea… Love’s thorny tapers yet neglected… Speak thou the word, they’ll kindl… The nimble hours woo us on to wed,
Her pretty feet Like snails did creep A little out, and then, As if they played at Bo-peep, Did soon draw in again.
For those my unbaptized rhymes, Writ in my wild unhallowed times, For every sentence, clause, and wo… That’s not inlaid with Thee, my L… Forgive me, God, and blot each li…
TO PHILLIS, TO LOVE A… Live, live with me, and thou shalt… The pleasures I’ll prepare for th… What sweets the country can afford Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy…
First offer incense; then, thy fie… Shall smile and smell the better b… The spangling dew dredged o’er the… Turn’d all to mell and manna there… Butter of amber, cream, and wine,…
Here lies Jonson with the rest Of the poets; but the best. Reader, would’st thou more have kn… Ask his story, not this stone. That will speak what this can’t te…