The Search (George Herbert Poems)
Whither, O, whither art thou fled, My Lord, my Love?My searches ...
Whither, O, whither art thou fled, My Lord, my Love?My searches ...
When first thou didst entice to thee my heart, I thought the service brave;So many joyes I ...
Away despair; my gracious Lord doth heare, Though windes and waves assault my keel, He doth preserve it: ...
As I one ev'ning sat before my cell, Me thought a starre did shoot into my lap. I rose, and ...
Amid the desert rockes, the mountaine beare. Bringes forth vnformd, vnlyke her selfe her yong: Nought els but lumpes of ...
Oh Book! infinite sweetnesse! let my heart Suck ev'ry letter, and a hony gain, Precious for any grief ...
He that is weary, let him sit. My soul would stirre And trade ...
As men, for fear the starres should sleep and nod, And trip at night, have spheres supplied;As if a ...
Meeting with Time, slack thing, said I, Thy sithe is dull; whet it for shame.No marvell Sir, he did replie,If ...
Poore silly soul, whose hope and head lies low;Whose flat delights on earth do creep and grow:To whom the starres ...
Of late the heaven with cold was clos'd up so, Frost bound the ...
If we could see belowThe sphere of vertue, and each shining grace, ...
O Sacred Providence, who from end to end Strongly and sweetly movest! shall I write, And not of thee, through ...
Prayer the Churches banquet, Angels age, Gods breath in man returning to his birth, The soul in paraphrase, heart in ...
WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot*, *sweet The drought of March hath pierced to the root, And bathed every ...
THE PROLOGUE. When that the Knight had thus his tale told In all the rout was neither young nor old, ...
When whispering straynes doe softly steale With creeping passion through the hart, And when at every touch wee feele Our ...
SHE fell away in her first ages spring, Whil'st yet her leafe was greene, and fresh her rinde, And whil'st ...
APRILL: Ægloga QuartaTHENOT & HOBBINOLL Tell me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete? What? hath some Wolfe thy tender Lambes ...
LOng-while I sought to what I might compare those powrefull eies, which lighte my dark spright, yet find I nought ...
Come, my Ardelia, to this bowre, Where kindly mingling Souls a while, Let's innocently spend an houre, And at all ...
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