#English
Sweet Amarillis, by a spring’s Soft and soul-melting murmurings, Slept; and thus sleeping, thither… A Robin-red-breast; who at view, Not seeing her at all to stir,
Let fair or foul my mistress be, Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me; Or let her walk, or stand, or sit, The posture her’s, I’m pleased wi… Or let her tongue be still, or sti…
WHAT conscience, say, is it in t… When I a heart had one, To take away that heart from me, And to retain thy own? For shame or pity now incline
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…
Though hourly comforts from the go… No life is yet life-proof from mis…
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,…
Kindle the Christmas brand, and t… Till sunset let it burn; Which quench’d, then lay it up aga… Till Christmas next return. Part must be kept, wherewith to te…
The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup; I’ll drink to the garlands around… But first unto those Whose hands did compose
Let’s live in haste; use pleasures… Could life return, 'twould never l…
As shews the air when with a rain-… So smiles that ribbon 'bout my Ju… Or like——Nay, ’tis that Zonulet o… Wherein all pleasures of the world…
Play, Phoebus, on thy lute, And we will sit all mute; By listening to thy lyre, That sets all ears on fire. Hark, hark! the God does play!
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,
Give me a cell To dwell, Where no foot hath A path; There will I spend,
That hour-glass which there you se… With water fill’d, sirs, credit me… The humour was, as I have read, But lovers’ tears incrystalled. Which, as they drop by drop do pas…
’Tis not ev’ry day that I Fitted am to prophesy: No, but when the spirit fills The fantastic pannicles, Full of fire, then I write