In this little urn is laid Prudence Baldwin, once my maid, From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.

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…

Ah Ben! Say how or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun,

No wrath of men, or rage of seas, Can shake a just man’s purposes; No threats of tyrants, or the grim Visage of them can alter him; But what he doth at first intend,

Beauty no other thing is, than a b… Flash’d out between the middle and…

Laid out for dead, let thy last ki… With leaves and moss-work for to c… And while the wood-nymphs my cold… Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling… For epitaph, in foliage, next writ…

Rare is the voice itself: but whe… To th’ lute or viol, then ’tis rav…

How Love came in, I do not know, Whether by th’ eye, or eare, or no… Or whether with the soule it came (At first) infused with the same: Whether in part ‘tis here or there…

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…

Here we are all, by day; by night… By dreams, each one into a several…

Her eyes the glow—worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend…

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here a-while, To blush and gently smile;

Her pretty feet Like snails did creep A little out, and then, As if they played at Bo-peep, Did soon draw in again.

Night hath no wings to him that ca… And Time seems then not for to fl… Slowly her chariot drives, as if t… Had broke her wheel, or crack’d he… Just so it is with me, who list’ni…

In prayer the lips ne’er act the w… Without the sweet concurrence of t…