#Renaissance
I have no children: But tonight a poem came in which a small child, my daughter, appeared at the door of a half-lit room
Donne, the delight of Phoebus and… Who, to thy one, all other brains… Whose every work of thy most early… Came forth example, and remains so… Longer a-knowing than most wits do…
Here lies, to each her parents’ ru… Mary, the daughter of their youth; Yet all heaven’s gifts being heave… It makes the father less to rue. At six months’ end she parted henc…
HIGH-SPIRITED friend, I send nor balms nor cor’sives to… Your fate hath found A gentler and more agile hand to t… The cure of that which is but corp…
GENIUS. Time, Fate, and Fortune have at l… To give our Age the day so much d… What all the minutes, houres, week… That hang in file upon these silve…
How blest art thou, canst love the… Whether by choyce, or fate, or bot… And, though so neere the Citie, a… Art tane with neithers vice, nor s… That at great times, art no ambiti…
Drinke to me, onely, with thine ey… And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kisse but in the cup, And Ile not looke for wine. The thirst, that from the soule do…
Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps doth die; And this security, It is the common moth
Thy praise or dispraise is to me a… One doth not stroke me, nor the ot…
Good and great God, can I not thi… But it must straight my melancholy… Is it interpreted in me disease That, laden with my sins, I seek… Oh be thou witness, that the reins…
Still to be neat, still to be dres… As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfum… Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not fo…
Fortune, that favours fools, these… We wish away, both for your sakes… Judging spectators; and desire, in… To the author justice, to ourselve… Our scene is London, 'cause we wo…
Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever; He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I’ll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth…
At court I met it, in clothes bra… To be a courtier, and looks grave… To seem a statesman: as I near it… It made me a great face. I asked… ‘A lord,’ it cried, ‘buried in fle…