The Triumph (Ben Jonson Poem)
SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my Lady rideth! Each that draws is a swan or a ...
SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my Lady rideth! Each that draws is a swan or a ...
Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall ...
TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles, Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath, Through all ...
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee: O where, what can th?at be? Weedio-weedio: there again! So tiny a trickle of s?ng-strain; And ...
(i) introduction his home in ruins his parents gone frederick seeks to reclaim his throne to the golden mountain he ...
Down the dusty, dirt road out in the bramble the fragrant moments of summer the fruit in its season Climbing ...
O SING unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear with me; Dance no more at holyday, Like a running ...
The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight, With narrow pointed wings Whews o'er our heads-soon out of sight And as ...
DEAR SMITH, the slee'st, pawkie thief, That e'er attempted stealth or rief! Ye surely hae some warlock-brief Owre human hearts; ...
O BONIE was yon rosy brier, That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man; And bonie she, and ah, how ...
He. O PHILLY, happy be that day, When roving thro' the gather'd hay, My youthfu' heart was stown away, And ...
Now the day is done, Now the shepherd sun Drives his white flocks from the sky; Now the flowers rest ...
Chor.-O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, Ye wadna been sae shy; For laik o' gear ye lightly me, But, ...
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round, At Camelot, high above the ...
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round, At Camelot, high above the ...
Kneel down, fair Love, and fill thyself with tears, Girdle thyself with sighing for a girth Upon the sides of ...
Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire! I do wander everywhere, ...
To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born ...
Friends of humanity, of high and low degree, I pray ye all come listen to me; And truly I will ...
I winged my bird, Though he flew toward the setting sun; But just as the shot rang out, he soared ...
Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier's boughs, When March winds wake, So ...
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