The Discontent. (Anne Killigrew Poem)
I. HEre take no Care, take here no Care, my Muse, Nor ought of Art or Labour use: But let ...
I. HEre take no Care, take here no Care, my Muse, Nor ought of Art or Labour use: But let ...
There is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are ...
It is December in Wicklow: Alders dripping, birches Inheriting the last light, The ash tree cold to look at. A ...
heeley (sheffield) autumn 1988 dodging the broken bottles dog-shit the pavement spew i wheel my young son matthew through the ...
I Midwinter spring is its own season Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown, Suspended in time, between pole and tropic. When ...
To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that -- A Compound manner, As a Sod Espoused a ...
The Admirations -- and Contempts -- of time -- Show justest -- through an Open Tomb -- The Dying -- ...
One Crucifixion is recorded -- only -- How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics -- Or History -- One ...
A Weight with Needles on the pounds -- To push, and pierce, besides -- That if the Flesh resist the ...
BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF 'WAT TYLER' 'A Daniel come to judgment! ...
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this ...
Were't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity, ...
Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for ...
You are a friend then, as I make it out, Of our man Shakespeare, who alone of us Will put ...
I I doubt if ten men in all Tilbury Town Had ever shaken hands with Captain Craig, Or called him ...
Gawaine, aware again of Lancelot In the King's garden, coughed and followed him; Whereat he turned and stood with folded ...
Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere (Horace, Epistles II.i.267) While you, great patron of mankind, sustain The balanc'd world, and open ...
Once played to attentive faces music has broken its frame its bodice of always-weak laces the entirely promiscuous art pours ...
See with what simplicity This Nimph begins her golden daies! In the green Grass she loves to lie, And there ...
Is it long as a noodle or fat as an egg? Is it lumpy like a potato or ringed like ...
In the heart of the Hills of Life, I know Two springs that with unbroken flow Forever pour their lucent ...
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