The Poetry of George Wither, Том 1

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A.H. Bullen, 1902
 

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Стр. 140 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?
Стр. 63 - By a daisy, whose leaves spread, Shut when Titan goes to bed ; Or a shady bush or tree, She could more infuse in me, Than all Nature's beauties can In some other wiser man. By her help I also now Make this churlish place allow Some things that may sweeten gladness, In the very gall of sadness. The dull loneness, the black shade, That these hanging vaults have made ; The strange music of the waves, Beating on these hollow caves ; This black den which rocks emboss, Overgrown with eldest moss : The...
Стр. 141 - Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ? George Wither.
Стр. 147 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die, because a woman's fair ? Or make pale my cheeks with care, 'Cause another's rosy are ? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be...
Стр. 61 - Here I waste away the light, And consume the sullen night, She doth for my comfort stay, And keeps many cares away. Though I miss the flowery fields, With those sweets the springtide yields...
Стр. 141 - Be she meeker, kinder, than fhe turtle-dove or pelican : If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love? Or, her well-deservings known, Make me quite forget mine own?
Стр. 152 - as left me, Falero, lero, loo. In summer time or winter She had her heart's desire; I still did scorn to stint her From sugar, sack, or fire. The world went round about, No cares we ever knew; But now, alas! sh' 'as left me, Falero, lero, loo.
Стр. 61 - I'll fly where I never did : And though for her sake I'm crost, Though my best hopes I have lost, And knew she would...
Стр. 62 - If thy verse do bravely tower, As she makes wing she gets power ; Yet the higher she doth soar, She's affronted still the more : Till she to the high'st hath past, Then she rests with fame at last.

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