#English
Come pity us, all ye who see Our harps hung on the willow-tree; Come pity us, ye passers-by, Who see or hear poor widows’ cry; Come pity us, and bring your ears
Great cities seldom rest; if there… T’ invade from far, they’ll find w…
Thou shalt not all die; for while… Upon his altar, men shall read thy… And learn’d musicians shall, to ho… Fame, and his name, both set and s… To his book’s end this last line h…
Droop, droop no more, or hang the… Ye roses almost withered; Now strength, and newer purple get… Each here declining violet. O primroses! let this day be
Some ask’d me where the Rubies gr… And nothing I did say, But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia. Some ask’d how Pearls did grow, a…
Now is the time for mirth, Nor cheek or tongue be dumb; For with the flow’ry earth The golden pomp is come. The golden pomp is come;
Bell-man of night, if I about sha… For to deny my Master, do thou cr… Thou stop’st Saint Peter in the m… Stay me, by crowing, ere I do beg… Better it is, premonish’d, for to…
Truth by her own simplicity is kno… Falsehood by varnish and vermilion…
HERE a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall
To my revenge, and to her desperat… Fly, thou made bubble of my sighs… In the wild air, when thou hast ro… And, like a blasting planet, found… Stoop, mount, pass by to take her…
Love, like a gipsy, lately came, And did me much importune To see my hand, that by the same He might foretell my fortune. He saw my palm; and then, said he,
IN the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When I lie within my bed,
Born I was to be old, And for to die here; After that, in the mould Long for to lie here. But before that day comes,
These springs were maidens once th… But lost to that they most approve… My story tells, by Love they were Turn’d to these springs which we s… The pretty whimpering that they ma…
If thou dislik’st the piece thou l… Think that of all that I have wri… But if thou read’st my book unto t… And still dost this and that verse… O perverse man! If all disgustful…
