My faithful friend, if you can see The fruit to grow up, or the tree; If you can see the colour come Into the blushing pear or plum; If you can see the water grow

For brave comportment, wit without… Words fully flowing, yet of influe… Thou art that man of men, the man… Worthy the public admiration: Who with thine own eyes read’st wh…

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…

Praise, they that will, times past… Myself now live; this age best ple…

Among the myrtles as I walk’d Love and my sighs thus intertalk’d… Tell me, said I, in deep distress… Where I may find my Shepherdess? —Thou fool, said Love, know’st th…

Fly to my mistress, pretty pilferi… And say thou bring’st this honey-b… When on her lip thou hast thy swee… Mark if her tongue but slyly steal… If so, we live; if not, with mourn…

In all thy need, be thou possest Still with a well prepared breast; Nor let the shackles make thee sad… Thou canst but have what others ha… And this for comfort thou must kno…

To gather flowers, Sappha went, And homeward she did bring Within her lawny continent, The treasure of the Spring. She smiling blush’d, and blushing…

—AND, cruel maid, because I see You scornful of my love, and me, I’ll trouble you no more, but go My way, where you shall never know What is become of me; there I

I dare not ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile; Lest having that, or this, I might grow proud the while. No, no, the utmost share

Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roa… Far safer ’twere to stay at home; Where thou mayst sit, and piping,… The poor and private cottages. Since cotes and hamlets best agree

So Good-Luck came, and on my roof… Like noiseless snow, or as the dew… Not all at once, but gently,- as t… Are by the sun-beams, tickled by d…

What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth,

Virgins promised when I died, That they would each primrose-tide Duly, morn and evening, come, And with flowers dress my tomb. —Having promised, pay your debts

In this little Urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.