#EnglishWriters
Batter my heart, three—person’d G… As yet but knock, breathe, shine,… That I may rise and stand, o’erth… Your force to break, blow, burn, a… I, like an usurp’d town to another…
WILT thou forgive that sinn, whe… Which is my sinn, though it were d… Wilt thou forgive those sinns thro… And doe run still, though still I… When thou has done, thou hast not…
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…
I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry; But where’s that wiseman, that wou… If she would not deny?
Dear love, for nothing less than t… Would I have broke this happy dre… It was a theme For reason, much too strong for fa… Therefore thou wak’d’st me wisely;…
Father, part of his double interes… Unto thy kingdom, thy Son gives t… His jointure in the knotty Trinit… He keeps, and gives to me his deat… This Lamb, whose death with life…
All Kings, and all their favourit… All glory of honours, beauties, wi… The sun itself, which makes times,… Is elder by a year now than it was When thou and I first one another…
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…
When by thy scorn, O murd’ress, I… And that thou think’st thee free From all solicitation from me, Then shall my ghost come to thy be… And thee, feign’d vestal, in worse…
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…
If yet I have not all thy love, Dear, I shall never have it all; I cannot breathe one other sigh, t… Nor can intreat one other tear to… And all my treasure, which should…
'Tis the year’s midnight, and it i… Lucy’s, who scarce seven hours her… The sun is spent, and now his flas… Send forth light squibs, no consta… The world’s whole sap is sunk;
I am unable, yonder beggar cries, To stand, or move; if he say true,…
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…
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
