Nymphidia, The Court Of Fairy (Michael Drayton Poems)
Old Chaucer doth of Thopas tell,Mad Rabelais of Pantagruel,A latter third of Dowsabell,With such poor trifles playing;Others the like have ...
Old Chaucer doth of Thopas tell,Mad Rabelais of Pantagruel,A latter third of Dowsabell,With such poor trifles playing;Others the like have ...
"On the departure of rainy season bechanced is autumn with a heart-pleasingly bloomed lotus as her face, betokening the heart-pleasing ...
Bewailing in my chamber thus allone, Despeir{.e}d of all joye and remedye,For-tirit of my thoght, and wo begone, Unto the wyndow gan ...
...Bewailing in my chamber thus allone,Despeir{.e}d of all joye and remedye,For-tirit of my thoght, and wo begone,Unto the wyndow gan ...
Only to live, only to beIn Venice, is enough for me.To be a beggar, and to lieAt home beneath the ...
Krishna conveyed by signs to clever Radha. to ...
WORSCHIPPE ye that loveris bene this May,For of your blisse the Kalendis are begonne,And sing with us, Away, Winter, away! Cum, ...
Now, when our Lord was come to eighteen years,The King commanded that there should be builtThree stately houses, one of ...
While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionariesBurnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and Druidess,Far ...
In Progress you have little faith, say you:Men will maintain dear interests, wreak base hates,By force, and gentle women choose ...
Sweet twining hedgeflowers wind-stirred in no wiseOn this June day; and hand that clings in hand:-Still glades; and meeting faces ...
Shake out your hair about me, so,That I may feel the stir and scentOf those vague odours come and goThe ...
I. Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel! Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye! They could not in the self-same mansion ...
Oh, let me not serve so, as those men serve Whom honour's smokes at once fatten and starve; Poorly enrich't ...
Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove, Of golden sand, and crystal ...
While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries Burnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and ...
Lying asleep between the strokes of night I saw my love lean over my sad bed, Pale as the duskiest ...
His portrait hung upon the wall. Oh how at us he used to stare. Each Sunday when I made my ...
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this ...
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