When I behold a forest spread With silken trees upon thy head; And when I see that other dress Of flowers set in comeliness; When I behold another grace

How Love came in, I do not know, Whether by th’eye, or ear, or no; Or whether with the soul it came, At first, infused with the same; Whether in part ’tis here or there…

Open thy gates To him who weeping waits, And might come in, But that held back by sin. Let mercy be

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

Come thou, who art the wine and wi… Of all I’ve writ; The grace, the glory, and the best Piece of the rest; Thou art of what I did intend

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,

See’st thou that cloud as silver c… Plump, soft, and swelling every wh… ’Tis Julia’s bed, and she sleeps…

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…

Music, thou queen of heaven, care-… That strik’st a stillness into hel… Thou that tam’st tigers, and fierc… With thy soul-melting lullabies; Fall down, down, down, from those…

From this bleeding hand of mine, Take this sprig of Eglantine: Which, though sweet unto your smel… Yet the fretful briar will tell, He who plucks the sweets, shall pr…

Why I tie about thy wrist, Julia, this my silken twist? For what other reason is’t, But to shew thee how in part Thou my pretty captive art?

Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing, While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free,

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

Under a lawn, than skies more clea… Some ruffled Roses nestling were, And snugging there, they seem’d to… As in a flowery nunnery; They blush’d, and look’d more fres…

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…