English Lyric Poetry, 1500-1700

Predný obal
Frederic Ives Carpenter
Blackie & son, limited, 1897 - 276 strán (strany)
 

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Strana 83 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Strana 211 - The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For, having lost but...
Strana 147 - How happy is he born and taught, That serveth not another's will! Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill...
Strana 86 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Strana 230 - Go, lovely Rose! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Strana 84 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Strana 223 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things : There is no armour against Fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Strana 89 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...
Strana 232 - Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries. The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time hath made...
Strana 194 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who, from her green lap, throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thce with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

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