For love's sake, kiss me once again; I long, and should not beg in vain, Here's none to spy or see; Why do you doubt or stay? I'll taste as lightly as the bee...
It is usual for people in this country (out of pretended respect but rather from an impertinent curiosity) to desire to see persons after they are dead. ...
Great lucid streamers bar the sky ahead (bifurcated banners at a tourney) light alchemizes the brass on the bridge into sallow gold now the short northern...
Kim, composite of all my loves, less real than most, more real than all; of my making, all the good and some of the bad, yet of yourself; sole, unique, strong, alone, whole, independent, one: yet mine...
Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of snow Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool of beaver, Or swan's down ever?...
Walking, snow falling, it is possible to focus at various distances in turn on separate flakes, sharply engage the attention at several spatial points: the nearer cold and more uncomfortable,...
This morning, timely rapt with holy fire, I thought to form unto my zealous Muse What kind of creature I could most desire, To honour, serve, and love; as poets use....
Descended to the shore, odd how we left the young girl with us to herself, and went straight to examine the stratified cliffs, forgot her entirely in our interest. ...
So breaks the sun earth's rugged chains, Wherein rude winter bound her veins; So grows both stream and source of price, That lately fettered were with ice. So naked trees get crisped heads,...
Follow a shaddow, it still flies you, Seeme to flye it, it will pursue: So court a mistris, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you. Say, are not women truly, then,...
Follow a shadow, it still flies you; Seem to fly it, it will pursue: So court a mistress, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you. Say, are not women truly then...
High-spirited friend, I send nor balms nor cor'sives to your wound: Your fate hath found A gentler and more agile hand to tend The cure of that which is but corporal;...
Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who are Life of the Muses' day, their morning star! If works, not th' author's, their own grace should look, Whose poems would not wish to be your book?...
It will be looked for, book, when some but see Thy title, Epigrams, and named of me, Thou should'st be bold, licentious, full of gall, Wormwood and sulphur, sharp and toothed withal,...
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor muse can praise too much;...
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor Muse can praise too much....