#EnglishWriters
My Muse in meads has spent her ma… Sitting, and sorting several sorts… To make for others garlands; and t… On many a head here, many a corone… But amongst all encircled here, no…
I will confess With cheerfulness, Love is a thing so likes me, That, let her lay On me all day,
Display thy breasts, my Julia, th… Behold that circummortal purity; Between whose glories, there my li… Ravished in that fair Via Lactea.
Man may want land to live in; but… Nature finds out some place for bu…
Now is the time for mirth, Nor cheek or tongue be dumb; For with the flow’ry earth The golden pomp is come. The golden pomp is come;
O thou, the wonder of all days! O paragon, and pearl of praise! O Virgin-martyr, ever blest Above the rest Of all the maiden-train! We come…
Come, Anthea, let us two Go to feast, as others do: Tarts and custards, creams and cak… Are the junkets still at wakes; Unto which the tribes resort,
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…
These fresh beauties, we can prove… Once were virgins, sick of love, Turn’d to flowers: still in some, Colours go and colours come.
By those soft tods of wool With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there, That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain
Is this a life, to break thy sleep… To rise as soon as day doth peep? To tire thy patient ox or ass By noon, and let thy good days pas… Not knowing this, that Jove decre…
Wrinkles no more are, or no less, Than beauty turn’d to sourness.
A funeral stone Or verse, I covet none; But only crave Of you that I may have A sacred laurel springing from my…
Immortal clothing I put on So soon as, Julia, I am gone To mine eternal mansion. Thou, thou art here, to human sigh… Clothed all with incorrupted light…
Have ye beheld (with much delight) A red rose peeping through a white… Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam