The Good-Morrow
I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then, But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers’ den? ‘Twas
Elegy V: His Picture
Here take my picture; though I bid farewell, Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell. ‘Tis like me now, but I dead, ’twill be more When we are shadows both than
A Valediction: Of Weeping
Let me pour forth My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here, For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear, And by this mintage they are something worth, For thus they
Elegy XVI: On His Mistress
By our first strange and fatal interview, By all desires which thereof did ensue, By our long starving hopes, by that remorse Which my words’ masculine persuasive force Begot in thee, and by the
The Expiration
So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away, Turn thou ghost that way, and let me turn this, And let our selves benight our happiest day,
The Message
Send home my long stray’d eyes to me, Which O too long have dwelt on thee, Yet since there they have learn’d such ill, Such forc’d fashions, And false passions, That they be Made
The Ecstasy
Where, like a pillow on a bed A pregnant bank swell’d up to rest The violet’s reclining head, Sat we two, one another’s best. Our hands were firmly cemented With a fast balm, which
Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud
Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill
Elegy VIII: The Comparison
As the sweet sweat of roses in a still, As that which from chafed musk-cats’ pores doth trill, As the almighty balm of th’ early East, Such are the sweat drops of my mistress’
The Dissolution
She’s dead; and all which die To their first elements resolve; And we were mutual elements to us, And made of one another. My body then doth hers involve, And those things whereof I
Confined Love
Some man unworthy to be possessor Of old or new love, himself being false or weak, Thought his pain and shame would be lesser If on womankind he might his anger wreak, And thence
Air And Angels
Twice or thrice had I loved thee, Before I knew thy face or name, So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us oft, and worship’d be; Still when, to where
The Flea
Mark but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deny’st me is; It sucked me first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; Thou
Elegy XVIII: Love's Progress
Who ever loves, if he do not propose The right true end of love, he’s one that goes To sea for nothing but to make him sick. Love is a bear-whelp born: if we
Holy Sonnet VIII: If Faithful Souls Be Alike Glorified
If faithful souls be alike glorified As angels, then my fathers soul doth see, And adds this even to full felicity, That valiantly I hells wide mouth o’erstride: But if our minds to these