The Request (Abraham Cowley Poems)
I'AVE often wish'd to love; what shall I do? Me still the cruel boy does spare; ...
I'AVE often wish'd to love; what shall I do? Me still the cruel boy does spare; ...
What shall I do with all the days and hours That must be counted ere I see thy face? ...
LAY thy heart down upon the warm, soft breast, Of June and take thy rest;The world is full of ...
Dusking amber dimly creeps Over the vale, Lit by the kildee's silver sweeps, Sad with ...
To the Heavens above us O look and behold The Planets that love us All harnessed in gold! What chariots, ...
Love I was shewn upon the mountain-side And bid to catch Him ere the dropp of day. See, Love, I ...
She's dead; and all which die To their first elements resolve; And we were mutual elements to us, And made ...
THE PROLOGUE. This worthy limitour, this noble Frere, He made always a manner louring cheer* *countenance Upon the Sompnour; but ...
ALONG the banks where Babel's current flows Our captive bands in deep despondence stray'd, While Zion's fall in sad remembrance ...
Oh! could I hope the wise and pure in heart Might hear my song without a frown, nor deem My ...
Sweet girl! though only once we met, That meeting I shall ne'er forget; And though we ne'er may meet again, ...
I. Said Abner, ``At last thou art come! Ere I tell, ere thou speak, ``Kiss my cheek, wish me well!'' ...
Were I - who to my cost already am One of those strange, prodigious creatures, man - A spirit free ...
Mournful groans, as when a tempest lowers, Echo from the dreary house of woe; Death-notes rise from yonder minster's towers! ...
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds ...
POOR little child, my pretty boy, Why did the hunter mark thee out? Wert thou betrayed by thine own joy? ...
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds ...
'Twas in a little western town An ancient Maiden dwelt: Her name was MISS, or MISTRESS, Brown, Or DEBORAH, or ...
Part 1 WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing -- This ...
Not with more glories, in th' etherial plain, The sun first rises o'er the purpled main, Than, issuing forth, the ...
How the Wings Were Made From many morning-glories That in an hour will fade, From many ...
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