Flowers and Fruit Gathered by Loving Hands from Old English GardensEmily Taylor Houlston & Wright, 1864 - Всего страниц: 182 |
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Стр. 22
... fear not ; Him I love that loveth me , For the rest a pin I care not . You are sad when others chafe , And grow merry as they laugh ; I that hate it , and am free , Laugh and weep as pleaseth me . GEORGE WITHER . 1588-1667 . PACK CLOUDS ...
... fear not ; Him I love that loveth me , For the rest a pin I care not . You are sad when others chafe , And grow merry as they laugh ; I that hate it , and am free , Laugh and weep as pleaseth me . GEORGE WITHER . 1588-1667 . PACK CLOUDS ...
Стр. 25
... fears his fate too much , Or his deserts are small , Who dares not put it to the touch To win or lose it all . Then in the empire of thy heart , Where I alone would be , If others should pretend a part , Or dare to share with me ; By ...
... fears his fate too much , Or his deserts are small , Who dares not put it to the touch To win or lose it all . Then in the empire of thy heart , Where I alone would be , If others should pretend a part , Or dare to share with me ; By ...
Стр. 30
... fear t ' exceed my duty . For , knowing that I sue to serve A saint of such perfection , As all desire , but none deserve , A place in her affection ; I rather choose to want relief , Than venture the revealing : Where glory recommends ...
... fear t ' exceed my duty . For , knowing that I sue to serve A saint of such perfection , As all desire , but none deserve , A place in her affection ; I rather choose to want relief , Than venture the revealing : Where glory recommends ...
Стр. 33
... fear A kind of numerous trembling make . Now all thy forces try , Now all thy charms apply ; Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye ! Weak lyre ! thy virtue sure Is useless here , since thou art only found To cure , but not to ...
... fear A kind of numerous trembling make . Now all thy forces try , Now all thy charms apply ; Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye ! Weak lyre ! thy virtue sure Is useless here , since thou art only found To cure , but not to ...
Стр. 42
... fears . " What lull'd thee then asleep ? " Sweet speech , which likes me best . " Tell me , where is thy dwelling - place ? " In gentle hearts I rest . " What thing doth please thee most ? " To gaze. 42 Flowers and Fruit from Lord Oxford.
... fears . " What lull'd thee then asleep ? " Sweet speech , which likes me best . " Tell me , where is thy dwelling - place ? " In gentle hearts I rest . " What thing doth please thee most ? " To gaze. 42 Flowers and Fruit from Lord Oxford.
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awake beauty BEN JONSON birds BISHOP KING blest breath bright buds clouds death delight dost doth dust dwell E'en earth EPITAPH Extra cloth eyes fair fall farewell fate fear flame flowers folly fortune's FRANCIS QUARLES GEORGE WITHER Gilt edges give glorious glory grace grave grief happy hath heart heaven heigh Henry Lawes HENRY VAUGHAN HERRICK honour hope hour humble JAMES SHIRLEY JONSON light live look Lord Love's lovers lyre mind morning move ne'er never night passion peace pleasure praise proud ROBERT HERRICK ROBERT SOUTHWELL rose SAMUEL DANIEL Say nay seas SHAKESPEARE shepherd shine sing SIR HENRY WOTTON SIR WALTER RALEIGH sleep smiles soft SONG SONNET soul spring star stay sweet tears Tell thee thine things Thou art thoughts unto virgin train virtue vows weep wilt thou leave wind wither Youth
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Стр. 60 - You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing.
Стр. 73 - Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : » Referring to the obsequies for the dead.
Стр. 44 - Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew ; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose ; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play...
Стр. 35 - A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull, Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold. A belt of straw and ivy buds With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my Love.
Стр. 78 - Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages ; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Arv. Fear no more the frown o...
Стр. 34 - Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull...
Стр. 40 - Since ghost there is none to affright thee. Let not the dark thee cumber ; What though the moon does slumber? The stars of the night Will lend thee their light, Like tapers clear without number.
Стр. 46 - Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. Ah ! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, Steal from his figure and no pace...
Стр. 119 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
Стр. 117 - I had not walked above A mile, or two, from my first love, And looking back (at that short space) Could see a glimpse of his bright face ; When on some gilded Cloud, or flower My gazing soul would dwell an hour, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity...