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Pagina 69 - A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten; In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move, To come to thee and be thy love.
Pagina 68 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Pagina 93 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Pagina 66 - I sat down, when I was last this way a-fishing ; and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree near to the brow of that primrose hill.
Pagina 195 - While I listen to thy voice, Chloris, I feel my life decay : That powerful noise Calls my fleeting soul away : Oh ! suppress that magic sound, Which destroys without a wound. Peace, Chloris, peace, or singing die, That together you and I To heaven may go ; For all we know Of what the blessed do above, Is, that they sing, and that they love.
Pagina 95 - I IN these flowery meads would be : These crystal streams should solace me; To whose harmonious bubbling noise I with my angle would rejoice, Sit here, and see the turtle-dove Court his chaste mate to acts of love; Or on that bank, feel the west wind Breathe health and plenty; please my mind, To see sweet dewdrops kiss these flowers, And then...
Pagina 29 - Behold, I will send for many fishers, saith the Lord, and they shall fish them ; and after will I send for many hunters, and they shall hunt them from every mountain, and from every hill, and out of the holes of the rocks.
Pagina 42 - ... the cheerful heart of Sir Henry Wotton; because I know that when he was beyond seventy years of age, he made this description of a part of the present pleasure that possessed him, as he sat quietly, in a summer's evening, on a bank a-fishing.