#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
Not from the stars do I my judgme… And yet methinks I have astronomy… But not to tell of good or evil lu… Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons… Nor can I fortune to brief minute…
No longer mourn for me when I am… Than you shall hear the surly sull… Give warning to the world that I… From this vile world with vilest w… Nay if you read this line, remembe…
I grant thou wert not married to m… And therefore mayst without attain… The dedicated words which writers… Of their fair subject, blessing ev… Thou art as fair in knowledge as i…
From you have I been absent in th… When proud pied April, dressed in… Hath put a spirit of youth in ever… That heavy Saturn laughed and lea… Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the…
When I consider everything that g… Holds in perfection but a little m… That this huge stage presenteth no… Whereon the stars in secret influe… When I perceive that men as plant…
Thy glass will show thee how thy b… Thy dial how thy precious minutes… These vacant leaves thy mind’s imp… And of this book, this learning ma… The wrinkles which thy glass will…
ON a day—alack the day!— Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind
Or whether doth my mind, being cro… Drink up the monarch’s plague, thi… Or whether shall I say mine eye s… And that your love taught it this… To make of monsters, and things in…
Those lines that I before have wr… Even those that said I could not… Yet then my judgment knew no reaso… My most full flame should afterwar… But reckoning Time, whose million…
All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely p… They have their exits and their en… And one man in his time plays many… His acts being seven ages. At fir…
HARK! hark! the lark at heaven’s… Â Â Â And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those sprin… Â Â Â On chaliced flowers that lie… And winking Mary-buds begin
Canst thou, O cruel, say I love t… When I against my self with thee… Do I not think on thee when I for… Am of my self, all tyrant, for thy… Who hateth thee that I do call my…
Those petty wrongs that liberty co… When I am sometime absent from th… Thy beauty and thy years full well… For still temptation follows where… Gentle thou art and therefore to b…
Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with…
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fas… In one of thine, from that which t… And that fresh blood which youngly… Thou mayst call thine when thou fr… Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and i…