#EnglishWriters
Where, like a pillow on a bed A pregnant bank swell’d up to rest The violet’s reclining head, Sat we two, one another’s best. Our hands were firmly cemented
I am a little world made cunningly Of elements and an angelic sprite, But black sin hath betray’d to end… My world’s both parts, and oh both… You which beyond that heaven which…
Our storm is past, and that storm’… A stupid calm, but nothing it, dot… The fable is inverted, and far mor… A block afflicts, now, than a stor… Storms chafe, and soon wear out th…
This is my play’s last scene; here… My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my… Idly, yet quickly run, hath this l… My span’s last inch, my minute’s l… And gluttonous death will instantl…
O might those sighs and tears retu… Into my breast and eyes, which I… That I might in this holy discont… Mourn with some fruit, as I have… In mine Idolatry what showers of…
‘Tis true, ‘tis day, what though i… O wilt thou therefore rise from me… Why should we rise because ‘tis li… Did we lie down because ‘twas nigh… Love, which in spite of darkness b…
Death, be not proud, though some h… Mighty and dreadful, for thou art… For those whom thou think’st thou… Die not, poor Death, nor yet cans… From rest and sleep, which but thy…
Come, Madam, come, all rest my po… Until I labour, I in labour lie. The foe oft—times having the foe i… Is tir’d with standing though he n… Off with that girdle, like heaven’…
SEND me some tokens, that my hop… Or that my easeless thoughts may s… Send me some honey, to make sweet… That in my passions I may hope th… I beg nor ribbon wrought with thin…
I can love both fair and brown, Her whom abundance melts, and her… Her who loves loneness best, and h… Her whom the country formed, and w… Her who believes, and her who trie…
As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends d… The breath goes now, and some say,… So let us melt, and make no noise,
I long to talk with some old lover… Who died before the god of love wa… I cannot think that he, who then l… Sunk so low as to love one which d… But since this god produc’d a dest…
No spring nor summer beauty hath s… As I have seen in one autumnal fa… Young beauties force our love, and… This doth but counsel, yet you can… If ‘twere a shame to love, here ’t…
Out of a fired ship, which by no w… But drowning could be rescued from… Some men leap’d forth, and ever as… Near the foes’ ships, did by their… So all were lost, which in the shi…
Whoever comes to shroud me, do not… Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which… The mystery, the sign, you must no… For 'tis my outward soul,
