Love in a shower of blossoms came Down, and half drown’d me with the… The blooms that fell were white an… But with such sweets commingled, As whether (this) I cannot tell,

I have been wanton, and too bold,… To chafe o’er-much the virgin’s ch… Beg for my pardon, Julia! he dot… Grace with the gods who’s sorry fo… That done, my Julia, dearest Juli…

What will ye, my poor orphans, do, When I must leave the world and y… Who’ll give ye then a sheltering s… Or credit ye, when I am dead? Who’ll let ye by their fire sit,

Happily I had a sight Of my dearest dear last night; Make her this day smile on me, And I’ll roses give to thee!

I bring ye love. QUES. What wi… ANS. Like, and dislike ye. I bring ye love. QUES. What wi… ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye. I bring ye love. QUES. What wi…

Go, happy Rose, and interwove With other flowers, bind my Love. Tell her, too, she must not be Longer flowing, longer free, That so oft has fetter’d me.

Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, —'Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile, or does she frown;

Ye silent shades, whose each tree… Some relique of a saint doth wear; Who for some sweet-heart’s sake, d… The fire and martyrdom of Love:— Here is the legend of those saints

The Rose was sick, and smiling di… And, being to be sanctified, About the bed, there sighing stood The sweet and flowery sisterhood. Some hung the head, while some did…

Those ends in war the best content… Whose peace is made up with a pard…

Good things, that come of course,… Than those which come by sweet con…

Biancha, let Me pay the debt I owe thee for a kiss Thou lend’st to me; And I to thee

To gather flowers, Sappha went, And homeward she did bring Within her lawny continent, The treasure of the Spring. She smiling blush’d, and blushing…

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, bir… Of April, May, of June, and July… I sing of May—poles, hock—carts,… Of bridegrooms, brides, and of the… I write of youth, of love, and hav…

Cupid as he lay among Roses, by a Bee was stung. Whereupon in anger flying To his Mother, said thus crying; Help! O help! your Boy’s a dying.