Richard Lovelace
To Lucasta, Going Beyond The Seas
If to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone, You or I were alone,- Then, my Lucasta, might I crave Pity from blust’ring wind or swallowing wave.
To Lucasta, Going To The Wars
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breasts, and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe
To Amarantha, That She Would Dishevel Her Hair
Amarantha, sweet and fair, Ah, braid no more that shining hair! As my curious hand or eye Hovering round thee, let it fly! Let it fly as unconfined As its calm ravisher the wind,
The Rose
Sweet serene sky-like flower, Haste to adorn her bower; From thy long cloudy bed Shoot forth thy damask head! New-startled blush of Flora, The grief of pale Aurora, Who will contest no more, Haste,
The Scrutiny
Why should you swear I am forsworn, Since thine I vowed to be? Lady, it is already morn, And ’twas last night I swore to thee That fond impossibility. Have I not loved thee
The Grasshopper
O thou that swing’st upon the waving ear Of some well-filled oaten beard, Drunk ev’ry night with a delicious tear Dropped thee from heav’n, where now th’ art reared, The joys of earth and
To Althea, From Prison
When love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered to her eye, The birds that