#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
Hapcot! To thee the Fairy State I with discretion, dedicate. Because thou prizest things that a… Curious, and un-familiar. Take first the feast; these dishes…
When I thy parts run o’er, I can’… In any one, the least indecency; But every line and limb diffused t… A fair and unfamiliar excellence; So that the more I look, the more…
Beauty no other thing is, than a b… Flash’d out between the middle and…
HAVE ye beheld (with much deligh… A red rose peeping through a white… Or else a cherry, double grac’d, Within a lily centre plac’d? Or ever mark’d the pretty beam
A wearied pilgrim I have wander’d… Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but… Long I have lasted in this world;… But yet those years that I have l… Who by his gray hairs doth his lus…
You may vow I’ll not forget To pay the debt Which to thy memory stands as due As faith can seal it you. —Take then tribute of my tears;
Make haste away, and let one be A friendly patron unto thee; Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee… Torn for the use of pastery; Or see thy injured leaves serve we…
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,
Please your Grace, from out your… Give an alms to one that’s poor, That your mickle may have more. Black I’m grown for want of meat, Give me then an ant to eat,
Life is the body’s light; which, o… Those crimson clouds i’ th’ cheeks… Those counter-changed tabbies in t… The sun once set, all of one colou… So, when death comes, fresh tinctu…
From the dull confines of the droo… To see the day spring from the pre… Ravish’d in spirit, I come, nay m… To thee, blest place of my nativit… Thus, thus with hallow’d foot I t…
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
Open thy gates To him who weeping waits, And might come in, But that held back by sin. Let mercy be
Good morrow to the day so fair; Good morning, sir, to you; Good morrow to mine own torn hair, Bedabbled with the dew. Good morning to this primrose too;
A Gyges ring they bear about them… To be, and not seen when and where… They tread on clouds, and though t… They fall like dew, and make no no… So silently they one to th’ other…
