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O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growe | |
“Where comes no guest but is allowed to eat/without his fear, and of thy lord’s own meat | |
And we will have no Pooly or Parrot by | |
Come, my [NAME], come ; and, coming, mark How each field turns a street, each street a park Made green and trimm'd with trees : see how Devotion gives each house a bough Or branch | |
Mean while the Adversary of God and Man, | |
As our blood labors to beget/spirits as like souls as it can/Because such fingers need to knit/That subtle knot which makes us man/So much pure lovers’ souls descend/T’affectio | |
: “Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion/my partner, and shalt share in all my fortunes.” [NAME]: “Excepting one.” [NAME]:“What’s that?” [NAME]: “Your gallant | |
And since at such times, miracles are sought | |
I threaten'd to observe the strict decree Of my dear God with all my power and might; But I was told by one it could not be; Yet I might trust in God to be my light. 'Then will I t | |
“I’ll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come:/of partidge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some may yet be there” | |
These, Penhurst, are thy praise, and yet not all./Thy lady’s noble, fruitful, chaste withal./His children thy great lord may call his own,/a fortune in this age but rarely known. | |
Come, let us go while we are in our prime ; And take the harmless folly of the time. We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty. Our life is short, and our days ru | |
“sat we two, one another’s best” | |
“Who says that fictions only and false hair/Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty?” | |
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will, And Will to boot, and Will in over-plus; More than enough am I that vexed thee still, To thy sweet will making addition thus. Wilt thou, | |
“Yet I glory/More in the cunning purchase of my wealth/than in the glad possession, since I gain/no common way. I use no trade, no venture/I would no earth with plowshares; fat n | |
“Oh, sir, the wonder/the blazing star of Italy! A wench/ o’the first year! A beauty ripe as harvest!/whose skin is whiter than a swan, all over/than silver, snow, or lilies! A | |
But O alas, so long, so far/Our bodies why do we forbear?/They are ours, though they are not we; we are/The intelligences, they the sphere./We owe them thanks because they thus/Did | |
By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend/this way to husbands, and whose baskets bear | |
Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, And sweet as Flora. Take no care For jewels for your gown or hair : Fear not ; the l | |
# For wee to him indeed all praises owe, # And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy # So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee # Præeminent by so much odds, while thou # Like consort t | |
# As I bent down to look, just opposite, # A Shape within the watry gleam appeard # Bending to look on me, I started back, # It started back, but pleas'd I soon returnd, # Pleas'd | |
Maids are not won by brutish force and might/but speeches full of pleasure and delight | |
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The outside of her garments were of lawn/the lining purple silk, with gilt start drawn;/Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grover/where Venus in her naked glory strove/to | |
Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more, [ 165 ] For [NAME] your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar, So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed, | |
First, we loved well and faithfull/Yet knew not what we loved, nor why/difference of sex no more we knew/than our guardian | |
# Let not my words offend thee, Heav'nly Power, # My Maker, be propitious while I speak. # Hast thou not made me here thy substitute, # And these inferiour farr beneath me set? # A | |
“Well, I am here, and all this brunt is past./I ne’er was in dislike with my disguise/till this fled moment; here ‘twas good, in private/but, in your public – cavé whilst | |
# Then thou thy regal Scepter shalt lay by, # For regal Scepter then no more shall need, # God shall be All in All. But all ye Gods, | |
Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman coloured ill. To win me soon to | |
There's not a budding boy or girl this day But is got up, and gone to bring in May. A deal of youth, ere this, is come Back, and with white-thorn laden home. Some have despatch'd t | |
When I consider every thing that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; When | |
A broken ALTAR, Lord thy servant rears, Made of a heart, and cemented with teares: Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workmans tool hath touch'd the same A HEART alone Is su | |
GET up, get up for shame, the blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air : Get up, sweet slug-a-bed | |
Shepherds are honest people: let them sing;/Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime./I envy no man’s nightingale or spring;/Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme,/Who pla | |
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometim | |
A woman's face with nature's own hand painted, Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women's fa | |
Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, helas! I may no more. The vain travail hath worried me so sore, I am of them that furthest come behind. Yet may I by no | |
If any, so by love refined/That he soul’s language understood,/And by good love were grown all mind/Within convenient distance stood | |
Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep / Clos'd o're the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly, N | |
# And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? # All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, # And study of revenge, immortal hate, # And courage never to submit or yield: # A | |
# About him. But to Adam in what sort # Shall I appeer? shall I to him make known # As yet my change, and give him to partake # Full happiness with mee, or rather not, # But keep t | |
All women shall adore us, and some men” | |
Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ; That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force, to break, blow, b | |
# Astonisht: none among the choice and prime # Of those Heav'n-warring Champions could be found # So hardie as to proffer or accept # Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last # Sata | |
# What think'st thou then of mee, and this my State, # Seem I to thee sufficiently possest # Of happiness, or not? who am alone # From all Eternitie, for none I know # Second to me | |
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# But I should ill become this Throne, O Peers, # And this Imperial Sov'ranty, adorn'd # With splendor, arm'd with power, if aught propos'd # And judg'd of public moment, in the sh | |
Could have assur'd us; and by what best way, Whether of open Warr or covert guile, We now debate; who can advise, may speak. He ceas'd, and next him Moloc, Scepter'd King # Stood u | |
but now, alas/all measure and all language I should pass/Should I tell what a miracle she was | |
'If this fall in a time, or land/where mis-devotion doth command/then he that digs us up will bring/Us to the bishop and the king/to make us relics; then/thou shalt be a Mary Magda | |
WHENAS in silks my [NAME] goes, Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows That liquefaction of her clothes. Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free ; O | |
And crying, ‘Love, I come!’ leapt lively in./Whereat the sapphire-visaged god grew proud/and made his capering Triton sound aloud/Imagining that Ganimed, displeased/had left th | |
# Thee I re-visit now with bolder wing, # Escap't the Stygian Pool, though long detain'd # In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight # Through utter and through middle darkness b | |
Good sir, these things might move a mind affected/with such delights; but I, whose innocence/is all I can think wealthy or worth th’enjoying/and which once lost, I have naught to | |
The long love that in my thought doth harbor And in mine heart doth keep his residence, Into my face presseth with bold pretence And therein campeth, spreading his banner. She that | |
“The middle grounds thy mares and horses breed./Each bank doth yield thee conies; and the tops/fertile of wood, Ashore and Sidney’s copse/to crown thy open table, doth provide | |
# If thou beest he; But O how fall'n! how chang'd # From him, who in the happy Realms of Light # Cloth'd with transcendent brightness didst out-shine # Myriads though bright: If he | |
Why droops my Celia?/thou hast in place of a base husband found a worthy lover. Use thy fortune well/with secrecy and pleasure. See, behold/What thou art queen of, not in expectati | |
and pictures in our eyes to get/was all our propagation | |
Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought els the least [ 120 ] That to the faithfull Herdmans art belongs! What recks it them? Wha | |
# Transported touch; here passion first I felt, # Commotion strange, in all enjoyments else # Superiour and unmov'd, here onely weake # Against the charm of Beauties powerful glanc | |
# He added not, and from her turn'd, but Eve # Not so repulst, with Tears that ceas'd not flowing, # And tresses all disorderd, at his feet # Fell humble, and imbracing them, besau | |
Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain: Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge m | |
is it she which on the other shore/goes richly painted? | |
So [NAME] sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves | |
Now [NAME] the Shepherds weep no more; Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood. [ 185 ] T | |
A SWEET disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness : A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction : An erring lace which here and there Enthrals the crimson | |
“at Sestos [NAME] dwelt;[NAME] the fair/Whom young Apollo courted for her hair” | |
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