#EnglishWriters
Health is the first good lent to m… A gentle disposition then: Next, to be rich by no by-ways; Lastly, with friends t’ enjoy our…
How Love came in, I do not know, Whether by th’eye, or ear, or no; Or whether with the soul it came, At first, infused with the same; Whether in part ’tis here or there…
Holy-Rood, come forth and shield Us i’ th’ city and the field; Safely guard us, now and aye, From the blast that burns by day; And those sounds that us affright
In numbers, and but these few, I sing thy birth, oh JESU! Thou pretty Baby, born here, With sup’rabundant scorn here; Who for thy princely port here,
Thou bidst me come away, And I’ll no longer stay, Than for to shed some tears For faults of former years; And to repent some crimes
When I love, as some have told Love I shall, when I am old, O ye Graces! make me fit For the welcoming of it! Clean my rooms, as temples be,
Tears, though they’re here below t… Above, they are the Angels’ spice…
For all our works a recompence is… ’Tis sweet to think on what was ha…
Kindle the Christmas brand, and t… Till sunset let it burn; Which quench’d, then lay it up aga… Till Christmas next return. Part must be kept, wherewith to te…
For brave comportment, wit without… Words fully flowing, yet of influe… Thou art that man of men, the man… Worthy the public admiration: Who with thine own eyes read’st wh…
Love, like a gipsy, lately came, And did me much importune To see my hand, that by the same He might foretell my fortune. He saw my palm; and then, said he,
In this little Urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.
Here, a little child, I stand, Heaving up my either hand: Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to thee, For a benison to fall
Knew’st thou one month would take… Thou’dst weep; but laugh, should i…
Ye silent shades, whose each tree… Some relique of a saint doth wear; Who for some sweet-heart’s sake, d… The fire and martyrdom of Love:— Here is the legend of those saints