#EnglishWriters
Here she lies, in bed of spice, Fair as Eve in paradise; For her beauty, it was such, Poets could not praise too much. Virgins come, and in a ring
Whenas inn silks my Julia goes, Then, then, methinks, how sweetly… That liquefaction of her clothes. Next, when I cast mine eyes and s… That brave vibration each way free…
Old Parson Beanes hunts six days… And on the seventh, he has his not… Six days he hollows so much breath… That on the seventh he can nor pre…
Virgins promised when I died, That they would each primrose-tide Duly, morn and evening, come, And with flowers dress my tomb. —Having promised, pay your debts
When I consider, dearest, thou do… But here awhile, to languish and d… Like to these garden glories, whic… The flowery-sweet resemblances of… With grief of heart, methinks, I…
Why I tie about thy wrist, Julia, this silken twist; For what other reason ’tis But to show thee how, in part, Thou my pretty captive art?
Frolic virgins once these were, Overloving, living here; Being here their ends denied Ran for sweet-hearts mad, and died… Love, in pity of their tears,
I have been wanton, and too bold,… To chafe o’er-much the virgin’s ch… Beg for my pardon, Julia! he dot… Grace with the gods who’s sorry fo… That done, my Julia, dearest Juli…
THE FAIRY TEMPLE; OR,… DEDICATED TO MR JOHN… COUNSELLOR AT LAW RARE TEMPLES THOU HAS… AND RICH FOR IN AND O…
In prayer the lips ne’er act the w… Without the sweet concurrence of t…
Droop, droop no more, or hang the… Ye roses almost withered; Now strength, and newer purple get… Each here declining violet. O primroses! let this day be
Get up, get up for shame, the bloo… Upon her wings presents the god un… See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the… Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
Anthea laugh’d, and, fearing lest… Might stretch the cords of civil c… She with a dainty blush rebuked he… And call’d each line back to his r…
I dreamed this mortal part of mine Was metamorphosed to a vine, Which crawling one and every way Enthralled my dainty Lucia. Methought her long small legs and…
For all our works a recompence is… ’Tis sweet to think on what was ha…