In this world, the isle of dreams,

While we sit by sorrow’s streams,

Tears and terrors are our themes

Reciting: (more…)

Can I not sin, but thou wilt be

My private protonotary?

Can I not woo thee to pass by

A short and sweet iniquity? (more…)

Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint,

Instead of dirges, this complaint;

And for sweet flowers to crown thy hearse,

Receive a strew of weeping verse

From thy grieved friend, whom thou might’st see

Quite melted into tears for thee. (more…)

Brave flowers, that I could gallant it like you,

And be as little vain;

You come abroad and make a harmless show, (more…)

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,

Am I thus ample to thy book and fame,

While I confess thy writings to be such

As neither man nor Muse can praise too much.

‘Tis true, and all men’s suffrage.

But these ways

Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise: (more…)

As withereth the primrose by the river,

As fadeth summer’s sun from gliding fountains,

As vanisheth the light-blown bubble ever,

As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains: (more…)

My only star,

Why, why are your dear eyes,

Where all my life’s peace lies,

With me at war?

Why, to my ruin tending,

Do they still lighten woe

On him that loves you so,

That all his thoughts in you have birth and ending? (more…)

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today (more…)

Get up! get up for shame! the blooming morn

Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.

See how Auroral throws her fair

Fresh-quilted colors through the air:

Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see

The dew bespangling herb and tree. (more…)

Lully, lullay, Tully, lullay,

The falcon bath born my make away.

He bore him up, he bore him down,

He bore him into an orchard brown (more…)