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Amarillis Anacreon Anthea Baiae BARLEY-BREAK beauty Ben Jonson bring ye love CANDLEMAS canst Catullus Chor Cittern colours cowslips cream crown'd daffadils dead dearest doth drink ears elves eyes fair Fairy fancy farewell fear feast fire flowers frankincense fresh give grace Grosart hair hand heart hence Herrick Hesperides honour JEPHTHAHS JOHN WICKS Jonson Julia keep kiss leave Liber Pater lilies lips live lost Love's lyrical maids May-poles meat merry Mirt mirth MISTRESS nature ne'er night o'er once Perilla piece pity pleasure poems poetry poets poor primrose ROBERT HERRICK roses Saint shew sing sleep smiling soft song spice spring stay storax Sweet Spirit tears tell thee there's thine things thou art thou dost thou hast thou shalt Tibullus tinctures tomb tree true turn'd unto verse virgins wassail weep Whenas white-thorn wine youth
Page 51 - Ah BEN! Say how, or when Shall we thy guests Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun ? Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad ; And yet each verse of thine Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Page 96 - Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee, And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
Page 134 - TO BLOSSOMS. Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past ; But you may stay yet here awhile, To blush and gently smile, And go at last.
Page 109 - DELIGHT IN DISORDER A SWEET disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness: A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction, An erring lace, which here and there Enthralls the crimson stomacher, A cuff neglectful, and thereby Ribbands to flow confusedly, A winning wave (deserving note) In the tempestuous petticoat, A careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a wild civility, Do more bewitch me, than when art Is too precise in every part.
Page 21 - Come, my Corinna, come ; and coming, mark How each field turns a street : each street a Park Made green, and trimm'd with trees : see how Devotion gives each House a Bough, Or Branch : Each Porch, each door, ere this, An Ark a Tabernacle is Made up of white-thorn neatly enterwove ; As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Page 20 - Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air: Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 5 The dew bespangling herb and tree!
Page 146 - TO MEADOWS YE have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill'd with flowers, And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours.
Page 120 - Twill not be long, Perilla, after this, That I must give thee the supremest...
Page 114 - To Dianeme. SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes, Which, star-like, sparkle in their skies ; Nor be you proud that you can see All hearts your captives, yours yet free ; Be you not proud of that rich hair, Which wantons with the love-sick air ; When as that ruby which you wear, Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, Will last to be a precious stone, When all your world of beauty's gone.