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Books Books 71 - 80 of 182 on Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven....  
" Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale when May is past; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters and keeps... "
Lectures on the Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth: Delivered at ... - Page 252
by William Hazlitt - 1821 - 356 pages
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The Household Book of Poetry

Charles Anderson Dana - American poetry - 1882 - 862 pages
...when May is past ; For in your sweet, dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her not*. 256 257 Ask me no more where those stars light That downwards...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. THOMAS CAKE* Philomela's ©be THAT SHE 8UNO IN HER ABBOB. SITTING by a river's side Where a silent...
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The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

Charlotte Fiske Bates - American poetry - 1882 - 882 pages
...those stars light That downwards fall in dead of night, For in your eyes they sit, and there Fix6d become as in their sphere. Ask me no more if east...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. THOMAS CARLYLE. TO-DA Y. So here hath been dawning another blue day ! Think, wilt thou let it slip...
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Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American Poetry

Epes Sargent - American poetry - 1882 - 958 pages
...cre.iulte, car MHS ce je ne puis раз vivre, ne morir." Ask me uo more, if east or west, The phœuix d court reply, Then give them both the lie. Tell potentates, they live Acting by others' llViU'uxm Sronmc. Born in Devonshire (1590-Ш5), Browne was educated at Oxford. He wrote " Britannia's...
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English lyrics

Music - 1883 - 296 pages
...Jove bestows, **. When June is past, the fading rose ; For in your beauty's orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. GEOBGE WITHER, LXXII. t590?— i667. THE SHEPHERD'S RESOLUTION. SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because...
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Fair words about fair woman

Oliver Bell Bunce - Women in literature - 1883 - 320 pages
...dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note. Ask me no more where those stars light That downward fall in dead of night ; For in your eyes they sit,...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. JULIA. BY ROBERT HERRICK. SOME asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing did I say, But with my finger...
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Chaucer to Burns

Richard Henry Stoddard - English poetry - 1883
...downwards fall in dead of night ! For in your eyes they sit, and there Fix'd become as in their sphere. For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. LOVE'S ETERNITY. How ill doth he deserve a Lover's name Whose pale weak flame Can not retain His heat...
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Red-letter Poems by English Men and Women

English poetry - 1885 - 648 pages
...pure love, heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more, whither doth baste The nightingale, when May is past; For in your sweet...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. MURDERING BEAUTY. I'LL gaze no more on her bewitching face, Since ruin harbors there in every place;...
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Red-letter Poems by English Men and Women

English poetry - 1885 - 648 pages
...they sit, and there Fixed become, as in their sphere. Ask me no more, if east or west, The phcenix builds her spicy nest ; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. MURDERING BEAUTY. I'LL gaze no more on her bewitching face, Since ruin harbors there in every place;...
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Alden's Cyclopedia of Universal Literature: Presenting Biographical and ...

Literature - 1886
...eyea they sit, and thero Fixed become, as in their sphere. Ask me no more, if east or west, The phenix builds her spicy nest ; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. CAREY, HENRY CHARLES, an American author, born at Philadelphia in 1793, died Oct. 13, 1879. He was...
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A Third Poetry Book

Poetry - 1889 - 521 pages
...where Jove bestows When June is past, the fading rose, For in your beauty's orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. T. CAREW I21.— A SPRING MORNING (FROM " THE KING'S QUHAIR 1 ") Now was there maid fast by the Touris...
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