#EnglishWriters
A crystal vial Cupid brought, Which had a juice in it: Of which who drank, he said, no th… Of Love he should admit. I, greedy of the prize, did drink,
When with the virgin morning thou… Crossing thyself come thus to sacr… First wash thy heart in innocence;… Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pur… Next to the altar humbly kneel, an…
Fame’s pillar here at last we set, Out—during marble, brass or jet; Charmed and enchanted so As to withstand the blow O f o v e r t h r o w ;
While the milder fates consent, Let’s enjoy our merriment: Drink, and dance, and pipe, and pl… Kiss our dollies night and day: Crowned with clusters of the vine,
More discontents I never had Since I was born, than here; Where I have been, and still am,… In this dull Devonshire. Yet justly too I must confess,
CHERRY-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cr… Full and fair ones; come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer: There Where my Julia’s lips do smile;
Things are uncertain; and the more… The more on icy pavements we are s…
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…
Who with a little cannot be conten… Endures an everlasting punishment.
Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come, and buy: If so be you ask me where They do grow? I answer, there Where my Julia’s lips do smile;—
Thou see’st me, Lucia, this year… Three zodiacs fill’d more, I shal… Let crutches then provided be To shore up my debility: Then, while thou laugh’st, I’ll s…
Orpheus he went, as poets tell, To fetch Eurydice from hell; And had her, but it was upon This short, but strict condition; Backward he should not look, while…
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…
Ah, Posthumus! our years hence f… And leave no sound: nor piety, Or prayers, or vow Can keep the wrinkle from the brow… But we must on,
What can I do in poetry, Now the good spirit’s gone from me… Why, nothing now but lonely sit And over-read what I have writ.