My soul I'll pour into thee.
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
When a daffadill I see, Hanging down his head towards me, Guess I may, what I must be: First, I shall decline my head; Secondly, I shall be dead: Lastly, safely buryed.
Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup; I'll drink to the garlands around it; But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
Roses at first were white, Till thy co'd not agree, Whether my Sapho's breast, Or they more white sho'd be.
Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer: There, Where my Julia's lips do smile; There's the land, or cherry-isle, Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow.
Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, And sweet as Flora. Take no care For jewels for your gown or hair Fear not; the leaves will strew Gems in abundance upon you Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, Against you come, some orient pearls unwept. Come, and receive them while the light Hangs on the dew-locks of the night And Titan on the eastern hill Retires himself, or else stands still Till you come forth! Wash, dress, be brief in praying Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.
Fain would I kiss my Julia's dainty leg, Which is as white and hairless as an egg.
Things are evermore sincere; / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
Tears are the noble language of the eye.
Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse; Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse.
He loves his bonds who, when the first are broke, Submits his neck into a second yoke.
A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine, As my small cruse best fits my little wine.
Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand That soils my land, And giv'st me for my bushel sowne Twice ten for one. All this, and better, Thou dost send Me, to this end, That I should render, for my part, A thankful heart.
It is an active flame that fliesFirst to the babies in the eyes.
Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
Who after his transgression doth repent, Is halfe, or altogether, innocent.
In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
What though the sea be calm? trust to the shore, Ships have been drown'd, where late they danc'd before.
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
When the tempter me pursueth With the sins of all my youth, And half damns me with untruth, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
Let my muse Fail of thy former helps, and only use Her inadulterate strength. What's done by me Hereafter shall smell of the lamp, not thee.
So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade; All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying; Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.
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