A Sonnet, To His Mother As A New Year’s Gift From Cambridge (George Herbert Poems)
My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, Wherewith whole shoals of martyrs once did burn, Besides their ...
My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, Wherewith whole shoals of martyrs once did burn, Besides their ...
I joy, dear mother, when I view Thy perfect lineaments, and hue Both sweet and bright. Beauty in thee takes ...
Sure Lord, there is enough in thee to dry Oceans of Ink ; for, as the Deluge did Cover the ...
My God, I heard this day, That none doth build a stately habitation, But he that means to dwell therein. ...
The merry world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together where I lay, And ...
Who says that fictions only and false hair Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty? Is all good ...
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