The Jacobean Poets

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C. Scribner's sons, 1894 - 226 Seiten
 

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Seite 99 - And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows, That we one jot of former love retain.
Seite 89 - When thou must home to shades of underground, And there arrived, a new admired guest, The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, White lope, blithe Helen, and the rest...
Seite 75 - Maiden pinks of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, And sweet thyme true; Primrose, first-born child of Ver, Merry spring-time's harbinger, With her bells dim; Oxlips in their cradles growing, Marigolds on death-beds blowing, Lark-heels trim; All, dear Nature's children sweet.
Seite 101 - This Life, which seems so fair, Is like a bubble blown up in the air By sporting children's breath, Who chase it everywhere And strive who can most motion it bequeath.
Seite 152 - UNDERNEATH this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, SIDNEY'S sister, PEMBROKE'S mother ; Death ! ere thou hast slain another, Learn'd and fair, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.
Seite 145 - His certain life, that never can deceive him, Is full of thousand sweets and rich content : The smooth-leaved beeches in the field receive him With coolest shades, till...
Seite 102 - Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers ; To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy bowers Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare, And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare, A stain to human sense in sin that lowers. What soul can be so sick which by thy songs...
Seite 89 - Proserpina This night by moon-shine leading merry rounds Holds a watch with sweet love, Down the dale, up the hill; No plaints or groans may move Their holy vigil. All you that will hold watch with love, The...
Seite 55 - Paradise, from whom Did all things' verdure and their lustre come, Whose composition was miraculous, Being all colour, all diaphanous, (For...
Seite 110 - THE sea hath many thousand sands, The sun hath motes as many; The sky is full of stars, and Love As full of woes as any : Believe me, that do know the elf, And make no trial by thyself. It is in truth a pretty toy For babes to play withal; But O ! the...

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