#EnglishWriters
Some that have deeper digg’d love’… Say, where his centric happiness d… I have lov’d, and got, and told, But should I love, get, tell, til… I should not find that hidden myst…
Now thou has loved me one whole da… Tomorrow when you leav’st, what wi… Wilt thou then antedate some new—m… Or say that now We are not just those persons whic…
Oh my black soul! now art thou sum… By sickness, death’s herald, and c… Thou art like a pilgrim, which abr… Treason, and durst not turn to whe… Or like a thief, which till death’…
Nature’s lay idiot, I taught thee… And in that sophistry, oh, thou do… Too subtle: Fool, thou didst not… The mystic language of the eye nor… Nor couldst thou judge the differe…
SEND me some tokens, that my hop… Or that my easeless thoughts may s… Send me some honey, to make sweet… That in my passions I may hope th… I beg nor ribbon wrought with thin…
Our storm is past, and that storm’… A stupid calm, but nothing it, dot… The fable is inverted, and far mor… A block afflicts, now, than a stor… Storms chafe, and soon wear out th…
Go and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the devil’s foot, Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
I wonder, by my troth, what thou a… Did, till we loved? Were we not w… But sucked on country pleasures, c… Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepe… ’Twas so; but this, all pleasures…
When that rich soul which to her h… Whom all do celebrate, who know th… (For who is sure he hath a soul, u… It see, and judge, and follow wort… And by deeds praise it? He who do…
'Tis the year’s midnight, and it i… Lucy’s, who scarce seven hours her… The sun is spent, and now his flas… Send forth light squibs, no consta… The world’s whole sap is sunk;
Batter my heart, three—person’d G… As yet but knock, breathe, shine,… That I may rise and stand, o’erth… Your force to break, blow, burn, a… I, like an usurp’d town to another…
At the round earth’s imagined corn… Your trumpets, angels, and arise,… From death, you numberless infinit… Of souls, and to your scattered bo… All whom the flood did, and fire s…
I long to talk with some old lover… Who died before the god of love wa… I cannot think that he, who then l… Sunk so low as to love one which d… But since this god produc’d a dest…
Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curta… Must to thy motions lovers’ season… Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
What if this present were the worl… Mark in my heart, O soul, where t… The picture of Christ crucified,… Whether that countenance can thee… Tears in his eyes quench the amazi…