That which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown, His arms might do what this hath done. It was my heaven’s extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that ’s good, and all that ’s fair. Give me but what this ribbon bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round!
From “Verses upon His Divine Poesy” THE SEAS are quiet when the winds give o’er; So calm are we when passions are no more. For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, too certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries....
GO, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that ’s young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have...
That which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown, His arms might do what this hath done. It was my heaven’s extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A...
Go, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and me
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men...
