Jack and Joan they think no ill, But loving live, and merry still; Do their week-days’ work, and pray Devoutly on the holy day: Skip and trip it on the green,

Thrice toss these oaken ashes in t… Thrice sit thou mute in this encha… Then thrice three times tie up thi… And murmur soft ‘She will, or she… Go burn these pois’nous weeds in y…

NEVER weather-beaten sail more w… Never tired pilgrim’s limbs affect… Than my wearied sprite now longs t… O come quickly, sweetest Lord, an… Ever blooming are the joys of heav…

OF Neptune’s empire let us sing, At whose command the waves obey; To whom the rivers tribute pay, Down the high mountains sliding: To whom the scaly nation yields

When thou must home to shades of u… And there arriv’d, a new admired g… The beauteous spirits do engirt th… White Iope, blithe Helen, and the… To hear the stories of thy finish’…

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shado… Though thou be black as night, And she made all of light, Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy s… Follow her, whose light thy light…

Give Beauty all her right, She’s not to one form tied; Each shape yields fair delight, Where her perfections bide: Helen, I grant, might pleasing be…

When to her lute Corinna sings, Her voice revives the leaden strin… And doth in highest notes appear, As any challenged echo clear; But when she doth of mourning spea…

There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flo… There cherries grow which none may…

FOLLOW your saint, follow with… Haste you, sad notes, fall at her… There, wrapt in cloud of sorrow, p… And tell the ravisher of my soul… But if she scorns my never-ceasing…

With broken heart and contrite sig… A trembling sinner, Lord, I cry: Thy pard’ning grace is rich and fr… O God, be merciful to me. I smite upon my troubled breast,

View me, Lord, a work of thine! Shall I then lie downed in night? Might thy grace in me but shine, I should seem made all of light. Cleanse me, Lord, that I may knee…

Now winter nights enlarge This number of their hours; And clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers. Let now the chimneys blaze

When to her lute Corinna sings, Her voice revives the leaden strin… And doth in highest notes appear As any challenged echo clear. But when she doth of mourning spea…

FOLLOW thy fair sun, unhappy sh…    Though thou be black as night,    And she made all of light, Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy s… Follow her, whose light thy light…