English poetry

Poems in English

The Tamed Deer

Like as a huntsman after weary chase Seeing the game from him escaped away, Sits down to rest him in […]

Poem 14

NOw al is done; bring home the bride againe, Bring home the triumph of our victory, Bring home with you […]

A Hymn In Honour Of Beauty

Ah whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too […]

Sonnet XXX

MY loue is lyke to yse, and I to fyre; How comes it then that this her cold so great […]

Sonnet XXXIX

SWeet smile, the daughter of the Queene of loue, Expressing all thy mothers powrefull art: With which she wonts to […]

Sonnet XXXVI

TEll me when shall these wearie woes haue end, Or shall their ruthlesse torment neuer cease: But al my dayes […]

Sonnet LX

THey that in course of heauenly spheares are skild, To euery planet point his sundry yeare: In which her circles […]

Sonnet LXXII

OFt when my spirit doth spred her bolder winges, In mind to mount vp to the purest sky: It down […]


When those renoumed noble Peres of Greece, Thrugh stubborn pride amongst the[m]selues did iar Forgetfull of the famous golden fleece, […]

Sonnet XVIII

THe rolling wheele that runneth often round, The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare: And drizling drops that […]

Sonnet XXI

WAs it the worke of nature or of Art? Which tempred so the feature of her face: That pride and […]

Poem 10

TEll me ye merchants daughters did ye see So fayre a creature in your towne before, So sweet, so louely, […]


Ioy of my life, full oft for louing you I blesse my lot, that was so lucky placed: But then […]

Sonnet XII

ONe day I sought with her hart-thrilling eies, To make a truce and termes to entertaine: All fearlesse then of […]

Sonnet L

LOng languishing in double malady, Of my harts wound and of my bodies greife: There came to me a leach […]

Poem 19

LEt no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares, Be heard all night within nor yet without: Ne let false whispers breeding […]

Sonnet LXXXI

Fayre is my loue, when her fayre golden heares, With the loose wynd ye wauing chance to marke: Fayre when […]

Poem 13

Behold whiles she before the altar stands Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes And blesseth her with his […]

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