#EnglishWriters
Soul. Whilst my Souls eye beheld no lig… But what stream’d from thy graciou… To me the worlds greatest King, Seem’d but some little vulgar thin…
And now all Nature seem’d in love… The lusty sap began to move; New juice did stir th’embracing V… And Birds had drawn their Valenti… The jealous Trout, that low did l…
Oh, thou great Power! in whom I m… For whom I live, to whom I die, Behold me through thy beams of lov… Whilst on this couch of tears I l… And cleanse my sordid soul within,
OH thou great Power, in whom I m… For whom I live, to whom I die, Behold me through thy beams of lov… Whilest on this Couch of tears I… And Cleanse my sordid soul within…
How happy is he born or taught, That serveth not another’s will; Whose armour is his honest thought… And simple truth his highest skill… Whose passions not his masters are…
Who would have thought, there coul… Such joy in tears, wept for our si… Mine eyes have seen, my heart hath… The most and best of earthly joyes… The sweets of love, and being lov’…
Untimely Feaver, rude insulting g… How didst thou with such unharmoni… Dare to distune his well-composed… Whose heart so just and noble stro… What if his Youth and Spirits wel…
Eternal Mover, whose diffused Glo… To shew our groveling Reason what… Unfolds it self in Clouds of Natu… Where Man, thy proudest Creature,… Whom yet (alas) I know not why, w…
Quivering fears, heart-tearing car… Anxious sighs, untimely tears, Fly, fly to courts, Fly to fond worldling’s sports, Where strained sardonic smiles are…
Dazled thus with height of place, Whilst our Hopes our wits Beguile… No man marks the narrow space ‘Twixt a Prison and a Smile. Then since Fortunes favours fade,
Rouse up thy self, my gentle Muse… Though now our green conceits be g… And yet once more do not refuse To take thy Phrygian Harp, and pl… In honour of this chearful Day.
My soul exalt the Lord with Hymns… O Lord my God, how boundless is t… Whose Throne of State is cloath’d… And round about hast rob’d thy sel… Who like a curtain hast the Heave…
You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your ligh… You common people of the skies, What are you when the sun shall ri…
O Faithless World, & thy more… The true Shop of variety, where s… And feavers of desire, and pangs o… Why, was she born to please, or I… Suffering her Eyes to govern my d…
Silence (in truth) would speak my… For, deepest wounds can least thei… Yet, let me borrow from mine own u… But time to bid him, whom I lov’d… O my unhappy lines! you that befor…
