#FreeVerse
Queen and huntress, chaste and fai… Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light,
Would you believe, when you this m… That his whole body should speak… That so much scarf of France, and… And shoe, and tie, and garter shou… And land on one whose face durst n…
This morning, timely rapt with hol… I thought to form unto my zealous… What kind of creature I could mos… To honour, serve, and love; as poe… I meant to make her fair, and free…
Good and great God, can I not thi… But it must straight my melancholy… Is it interpreted in me disease That, laden with my sins, I seek… Oh be thou witness, that the reins…
I sing the birth was born to-night The author both of life and light; The angels so did sound it. And like the ravished shepherds sa… Who saw the light, and were afraid…
Follow a shaddow, it still flies y… Seeme to flye it, it will pursue: So court a mistris, she denies you… Let her alone, she will court you. Say, are not women truly, then,
To the Immortal Memory and Frien… Cary and Sir Henry Morison. THE TURN. Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great yea…
Weep with me, all you that read   This little story; And know for whom a tear you shed,   Death’s self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive
Have you seen but a bright lily gr… Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of sn… Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool of beaver,
Come, my Celia, let us prove While we may the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever, He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain;
Farewell, thou child of my right h… My sin was too much hope of thee,… Seven years tho’ wert lent to me,… Exacted by thy fate, on the just d… O, could I lose all father now! F…
Still to be neat, still to be dres… As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfum… Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not fo…
The trawl of unquiet mind drops as… Great lucid streamers bar the sky… (bifurcated banners at a tourney) light alchemizes the brass on the… into sallow gold
Come, my Celia, let us prove While we may, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever; He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain.
And must I sing? What subject sha… Or whose great name in poets’ heav… For the more countenance to my act… Hercules? alas, his bones are yet… With his old earthly labours t’ ex…