#Welsh
With thy true love I have more we… Than Charon’s piled-up bank doth… Where he makes kings lay down thei… And life-long misers leave their g… Without thy love I’ve no more wea…
And now, when merry winds do blow, And rain makes trees look fresh, An overpowering staleness holds This mortal flesh. Though well I love to feel the ra…
I pray you, Sadness, leave me soo… In sweet invention thou art poor! Thy sister, Joy can make ten song… While thou art making four. One hour with thee is sweet enough…
Thou dost not fly, thou art not pe… The air is all around: What is it that can keep thee set, From falling to the ground? The concentration of thy mind
Now do I hear thee weep and groan… Who hath a comrade sunk at sea? Then quaff thee of my good old ale… And it will raise him up for thee; Thoul’t think as little of him the…
When primroses are out in Spring, And small, blue violets come betwe… When merry birds sing on boughs gr… And rills, as soon as born, must s… When butterflies will make side-le…
Now shall I walk Or shall I ride? “Ride”, Pleasure said; “Walk”, Joy replied. Now what shall I—
Go, little boy, Fill thee with joy; For Time gives thee Unlicensed hours, To run in fields,
I saw this day sweet flowers grow… But not one like the child did pic… I heard the packhounds in green pa… But no dog like the child heard ba… I heard this day bird after bird—
Sweet Chance, that led my steps a… Beyond the town, where wild flower… A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord, How rich and great the times are n… Know, all ye sheep
My mind has thunderstorms, That brood for heavy hours: Until they rain me words, My thoughts are drooping flowers And sulking, silent birds.
The mind, with its own eyes and ea… May for these others have no care; No matter where this body is, The mind is free to go elsewhere. My mind can be a sailor, when
Here comes Kate Summers, who, for… Takes any man to bed: “You knew my friend, Nell Barnes,… “You knew Nell Barnes—she’s dead. ”Nell Barnes was bad on all you m…
Sing out, my soul, thy songs of jo… Sing as a happy bird will sing Beneath a rainbow’s lovely arch In the spring. Think not of death in thy young da…
A jar of cider and my pipe, In summer, under shady tree; A book by one that made his mind Live by its sweet simplicity: Then must I laugh at kings who si…