Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best To use myself in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
Yesternight the sun went hence, And yet is...
|
Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines and silver hooks.
There will the river whisp'ring run Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun ; And there th' enamour'd fish will...
|
Amarantha sweet and fair Ah braid no more that shining hair! As my curious hand or eye Hovering round thee let it fly.
Let it fly as unconfin'd As its calm ravisher, the wind, Who hath left his darling th'East, To wanton o'er that spicy nest.
Ev'ry...
|
Bid me to live, and I will live Thy Protestant to be; Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee.
A heart as soft, a heart as kind, A heart as sound and free, As in the whole world thou canst find, That heart I'll give to thee...
|
Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows The liquefaction of her clothes.
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, Oh, how that glittering taketh me!
|
For her gait if she be walking, Be she sitting I desire her For her state's sake, and admire her For her wit if she be talking: Gait and state and wit approve her; For which all and each I love her.
Be she sullen, I commend her For a modest;...
|
Thou art to all lost love the best, The only true plant found, Wherewith young men and maids distrest, And left of love, are crown’d.
When once the lover’s rose is dead, Or laid aside forlorn: Then willow-garlands ‘bout the head Bedew’d with tears are...
|
Tell me no more how fair she is, I have no minde to hear The story of that distant bliss I never shall come near: By sad experience I have found That her perfection is my wound. And tell me not how fond I am To tempt a daring Fate, From whence no triumph...
|
Out upon it, I have loved Three whole days together! And am like to love three more, If it prove fair weather.
Time shall moult away his wings Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again Such a constant lover.
But the spite on ‘t is, no...
|
When, dearest, I but think of thee, Methinks all things that lovely be Are present, and my soul delighted: For beauties that from worth arise Are like the grace of deities, Still present with us, tho’ unsighted.
Thus while I sit and sigh the day With...
|
|
|