Shorter Elizabethan Poems, Том 8

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Thomas Seccombe
A. Constable and Company, Limited, 1903 - 358 страници

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Страница 343 - What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Страница 316 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest — Ah, wanton, will ye?
Страница 342 - Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear? Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men: Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow; Society is all but rude To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress
Страница 97 - His golden locks Time hath to silver turned; O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing ! His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned, But spurned in vain; youth waneth by increasing: Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen; Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees; And lovers...
Страница 266 - MY prime of youth is but a frost of cares; My feast of joy is but a dish of pain; My crop of corn is but a field of tares; And all my good is but vain hope of gain; The day is fled, and yet I saw no sun; And now I live, and now my life is done!
Страница 343 - Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.
Страница 338 - Well then ; I now do plainly see, This busy world and I shall ne'er agree ; The very honey of all earthly joy Does of all meats the soonest cloy, And they, methinks, deserve my pity, Who for it can endure the stings, The crowd, and buzz, and murmurings Of this great hive, the city. Ah, yet, ere I descend to th...
Страница 127 - WEEP you no more, sad fountains ; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heaven's sun doth gently waste! But my Sun's heavenly eyes View not your weeping, That now lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping. Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets; Doth not the sun rise smiling When fair at even he sets? Rest you then, rest, sad eyes! Melt not in weeping, While she lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping.
Страница 338 - I descend to the grave May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, and many books, both true, Both wise, and both delightful too!
Страница 340 - He makes the figs our mouths to meet, And throws the melons at our feet; But apples plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice...

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