Suche Waiwarde Waies Hath Love That Moste Parte In Discorde (Henry Howard Poems)
Suche waiwarde waies hath love that moste parte in discorde; Our willes do stand wherby our hartes but seldom dooth accorde. Disceyte ...
Suche waiwarde waies hath love that moste parte in discorde; Our willes do stand wherby our hartes but seldom dooth accorde. Disceyte ...
Disrob'd by Sinne, expos'd to the cold aire, Of dire dispaire, I sighe I grone: Famish'd for want of heav'nly sustenance, My spirit faints, And ...
Who so attempts to publish and display,Of Cupids thrals the strange & awkward fits,Doth seeke to count the sand amidst ...
In Cypres springes, wheras dame Venus dwelt, A well so hote that who so tastes the same, Were he of stone, as ...
The spring now come at lastTo Trees, Fields, to Flowres,And meadowes makes to tasteHis pride, while sad showresWhich from mine ...
Shall I, wasting in despaire,Dye because a woman's faire?Or make pale my cheeks with care'Cause another's rosie are?Be shee fairer ...
Why ist damnation to dispaire and die,When life is my true happinesse disease?My soule, my soule, thy safetye makes me ...
Bury'd alive I dwell (Like a defiled Vestall) in a cell: This habitation is Better, then Hell: Here solitude I kisse, And mende what is ...
Sometimes I am transfigur'd to a saint, And seeme like those who mett upon Mount Tabor; And then againe My Soule through ...
Mala crescunt deteriora. Seto is lately gone to Sturbridge faire, Whose little takings makes him halfe dispaire Twere good some friend of his ...
New formed Adam of the reddish earth, Exilde from Eden, Paradice of pleasure By Gods decree cast down to woes ...
Svch time as Tytan with his fiery beames In highest degree, made duskish Leo sweat Field-tilling Swains driue home their ...
You beauteous ladyes, great and small,I write unto you one and all,Whereby that you may understandWhat I have suffered in ...
O Great Creator of the starrie Pole, and heauenly things O mightie founder of the earthly mole, chiefe king of ...
When heapes of heauie hap, had fild my harte right full, And sorrow set forth pensiuenes, my ioyes away ...
NOt that thy Fair Hand Should lead me from my deep Dispaire, Or thy Love, Cloris, End my Care, And ...
I. HEre take no Care, take here no Care, my Muse, Nor ought of Art or Labour use: But let ...
TEll me thou safest End of all our Woe, Why wreched Mortals do avoid thee so: Thou gentle drier o'th' ...
CLORIS, it is not thy disdaine Can ever cover with dispaire Or in cold ashes hide that care Which I ...
Keepe on your maske, and hide your eye, For with beholding you I dye: Your fatall beauty, Gorgon-like, Dead with ...
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