The mounting lark (day's herald) got on wing, Bidding each bird choose out his bough and sing. The lofty treble sung the little wren; Robin the mean, that best of all loves men;...
Lo, I the man that whilom lov'd and lost, Not dreading loss, do sing again of love; And like a man but lately tempest-toss'd, Try if my stars still inauspicious prove: Not to make good that poets never can...
Why might I not for once be of that sect, Which hold that souls, when Nature hath her right, Some other bodies to themselves elect; And sunlike make the day, and license night?...
Fairest, when by the rules of palmistry You took my hand to try if you could guess By lines therein if any wight there be Ordain'd to make me know some happiness;...
Were't not for you, here should my pen have rest And take a long leave of sweet poesy; Britannia's swains, and rivers far by west, Should hear no more mine oaten melody;...
Sing soft, ye pretty birds, while C'lia sleeps, And gentle gales play gently with the leaves; Learn of the neighbour brooks, whose silent deeps Would teach him fear, that her soft sleep bereaves...
Underneath this sable herse Lies the subject of all verse: Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother: Death, ere thou hast slain another, Fair and learn'd, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee....
I have seen the Lady of the May Set in an arbour, on a holiday, Built by the May-pole, where the jocund swains Dance with the maidens to the bagpipe's strains, When envious night commands them to be gone...
Son of Erebus and Night, Hie away; and aim thy flight Where consort none other fowl Than the bat and sullen owl; Where upon the limber grass Poppy and mandragoras With like simples not a few...