Francis Beaumont

  • Shepherds all, and maidens fair,
    Fold your flocks up; for the air
    ’Gins to thicken, and the sun
    Already his great course hath run.
    See the dew-drops, how they kiss
    Every little flower that is;
    Hanging on their velvet heads,
    Like a string of...

  • Mortality, behold and fear
    What a change of flesh is here!
    Think how many royal bones
    Sleep within these heaps of stones;
    Here they lie, had realms and lands,
    Who now want strength to stir their hands,
    Where from their pulpits sealed with dust...