#EnglishWriters
From the dull confines of the droo… To see the day spring from the pre… Ravish’d in spirit, I come, nay m… To thee, blest place of my nativit… Thus, thus with hallow’d foot I t…
In this world, the Isle of Dreams… While we sit by sorrow’s streams, Tears and terrors are our themes, Reciting: But when once from hence we fly,
1 Among thy fancies, tell me this… What is the thing we call a kiss? 2 I shall resolve ye what it is:— It is a creature born and bred Between the lips, all cherry-red,
Have ye beheld (with much delight) A red rose peeping through a white… Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam
Thou bidst me come away, And I’ll no longer stay, Than for to shed some tears For faults of former years; And to repent some crimes
Ask me why I send you here This sweet Infanta of the year? Ask me why I send to you This Primrose, thus bepearl’d wit… I will whisper to your ears,—
Why, Madam, will ye longer weep, Whenas your baby’s lull’d asleep? And, pretty child, feels now no mo… Those pains it lately felt before. All now is silent; groans are fled…
We two are last in hell; what may… To be tormented or kept pris’ners… Alas! if kissing be of plagues th… We’ll wish in hell we had been las…
If after rude and boisterous seas My wearied pinnace here finds ease… If so it be I’ve gain’d the shore… With safety of a faithful oar; If having run my barque on ground,
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may: Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles t… To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the…
Get up, get up for shame, the bloo… Upon her wings presents the god un… See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the… Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
Why dost thou wound and break my h… As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an oath from m… After a day, or two, or three, I would come back and live with th…
Down with the rosemary and bays, Down with the misletoe; Instead of holly, now up-raise The greener box, for show. The holly hitherto did sway;
Tell, if thou canst, and truly, wh… This camphire, storax, spikenard,… These musks, these ambers, and tho… Sweet as the Vestry of the Oracle… I’ll tell thee:—while my Julia di…
In this little urn is laid Prudence Baldwin, once my maid, From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.