Rhodon And Iris. Act III (Ralph Knevet Poems)
SCEN. 1.Clematis Solo Well, if I were but once rid of her service, If I ever serv'd love-sicke mistris againe, I would feed all ...
SCEN. 1.Clematis Solo Well, if I were but once rid of her service, If I ever serv'd love-sicke mistris againe, I would feed all ...
Hobnelia.Hobnelia, seated in a dreary vale,In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale,Her piteous tale the wind in sighs bemoan,And pining ...
Lobbin Clout, Cuddy, CloddipoleLobbin Clout.Thy younglings, Cuddy, are but just awake,No thrustles shrill the bramble-bush forsakeNo chirping lark the welkin ...
I DREW it from its china tomb;- It came out feebly scented With some thin ghost of past perfume That ...
Impatience chaungeth smoke to flame, but jealousie is hell;Some wives by patience have reduc'd ill husbands to live well:As did ...
MONDAY, OR, THE SQUABBLELobbin Clout, Cuddy, CloddipoleCUDDYHold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advise,Lest blisters sore on thy own tongue arise.Lo ...
When poets wrote and painters drewAs Nature pointed out the view,Ere Gothic forms were known in GreeceTo spoil the well-proportion'd ...
He is the despots' Despot. All must bide,Later or soon, the message of his might;Princes and potentates their heads must ...
What is it in old fiddle-chunes 'at makes me ketch my breathAnd ripples up my backbone tel I'm tickled most ...
There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,And he was a squires son;He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,That lived in ...
In the land of the midnight sun,On a bleak Acadian shore,Tonight I picture a dear oneas she stands in a ...
Ye silent shades, whose each tree here Some relique of a saint doth wear; Who for some sweet-heart's sake, did ...
Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, --'Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair ...
Why do ye weep, sweet babes? can tears Speak grief in you, Who were but born just as the modest ...
In Saginaw, in Saginaw, The wind blows up your feet, When the ladies' guild puts on a feed, There's beans ...
I know a place for loitering feet Deep in the valley where the breeze Makes melody in lichened boughs, And ...
A Song in Chinese Tapestries "How, how," he said. "Friend Chang," I said, "San Francisco sleeps as the dead- Ended ...
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