#EnglishWriters
Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures pro… Of golden sands, and crystal brook… With silken lines, and silver hook… There will the river whispering ru…
WILT thou forgive that sinn, whe… Which is my sinn, though it were d… Wilt thou forgive those sinns thro… And doe run still, though still I… When thou has done, thou hast not…
Since she whom I lov’d hath paid… To nature, and to hers, and my goo… And her soul early into heaven rav… Wholly in heavenly things my mind… Here the admiring her my mind did…
Show me dear Christ, thy spouse s… What! is it she which on the other… Goes richly painted? or which, rob… Laments and mourns in Germany and… Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps…
Wilt thou love God, as he thee? T… My soul, this wholesome meditation… How God the Spirit, by angels wai… In heaven, doth make his Temple i… The Father having begot a Son mos…
Oh my black soul! now art thou sum… By sickness, death’s herald, and c… Thou art like a pilgrim, which abr… Treason, and durst not turn to whe… Or like a thief, which till death’…
No man is an island, Entire of itself; Every man is a piece of the contin… A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the se…
This is my play’s last scene; here… My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my… Idly, yet quickly run, hath this l… My span’s last inch, my minute’s l… And gluttonous death will instantl…
Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and… The intelligence that moves, devot… And as the other Spheares, by bei… Subject to forraigne motion, lose… And being by others hurried every…
Some that have deeper digg’d love’… Say, where his centric happiness d… I have lov’d, and got, and told, But should I love, get, tell, til… I should not find that hidden myst…
Here take my picture; though I bi… Thine, in my heart, where my soul… ‘Tis like me now, but I dead, ’tw… When we are shadows both, than 'tw… When weather—beaten I come back,…
Forget this rotten world, and unto… Let thine own times as an old stor… Be not concern’d; study not why, n… Do not so much as not believe a ma… For though to err, be worst, to tr…
Whoever comes to shroud me, do not… Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which… The mystery, the sign, you must no… For 'tis my outward soul,
O might those sighs and tears retu… Into my breast and eyes, which I… That I might in this holy discont… Mourn with some fruit, as I have… In mine Idolatry what showers of…
Death, be not proud, though some h… Mighty and dreadful, for thou art… For those whom thou think’st thou… Die not, poor Death, nor yet cans… From rest and sleep, which but thy…