In Commendation Of Musick

Related poetry:

1. Her Epitaph Happy Grave, thou dost enshrine That which makes thee a rich mine: Remember yet, ’tis but a loane; And wee must have it back, Her owne, The very same; Marke mee, the same: Thou canst not cheat us with a lame Deformed Carcase; Shee was fayre, Fresh as Morning, sweete as Ayre: Purer than other […]...
2. With Penne, Inke, And Paper To A Distressed Friend Here is paper, pen, and inke, That your heart and seale may sinke Into such markes as may expresse A Soule much blest in heavinesse. May your paper seeme as fayre As yourselfe when you appeare: May the Letters which you write Looke like black eye-lids on white. May your penne such fancies bring As […]...
3. Opposite To Meloncholly Returne my joyes, and hither bring A tongue not made to speake but sing, A jolly spleene, an inward feast, A causelesse laugh without a jest, A face which gladnesse doth anoynt, An arm that springs out of his joynt, A sprightfull gate that leaves no print, And makes a feather of a flint, A […]...
4. On A Dissembler Could any shewe where Plynyes people dwell Whose head stands in their breast; who cannot tell A smoothing lye because their open hart And lippes are joyn’d so neare, I would depart As quick as thought, and there forgett the wrongs Which I have suffer’d by deceitfull tongues. I should depart where soules departed bee, […]...
5. At A Solemn Musick Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav’ns joy, Sphear-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers, Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ Dead things with inbreath’d sense able to pierce, And to our high-rais’d phantasie present, That undisturbed Song of pure content, Ay sung before the saphire-colour’d throne To him that sits theron With Saintly […]...
6. On The Death Of Dr. Lancton President Of Maudlin College When men for injuryes unsatisfy’d, For hopes cutt off, for debts not fully payd, For legacies in vain expected, mourne Over theyr owne respects within the urne, Races of tears all striveing first to fall As frequent are as eye and funerall; Then high swolne sighes drawne in and sent out strong Seeme to call […]...
7. 490. Song-The charming month of May IT was the charming month of May, When all the flow’rs were fresh and gay. One morning, by the break of day, The youthful, charming Chloe- From peaceful slumber she arose, Girt on her mantle and her hose, And o’er the flow’ry mead she goes- The youthful, charming Chloe. Chorus.-Lovely was she by the dawn, […]...
8. Melancholly Hence, hence, all you vaine delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly: Ther’s nought in this life sweete, If men were wise to see’te But only Melancholly: O sweetest Melancholly! Welcome folded armes and fixed eyes, A sigh that piercing mortifies, A looke that’s fastned to the ground, A tongue […]...
9. Sonnet XXIX: When Conquering Love To the Senses When conquering Love did first my Heart assail, Unto mine aid I summon’d every Sense, Doubting, if that proud tyrant should prevail, My Heart should suffer for mine Eyes’ offence; But he with Beauty first corrupted Sight, My Hearing bribed with her tongue’s harmony, My Taste by her sweet lips drawn with […]...
10. On Sir Thomas Savill Dying Of The Small Pox Take, greedy death, a body here entomd That by a thousand stroakes was made one wound, Where all thy shafts were stuck with fatall ayme Untill a quiver this thy marke became, Had Cжsar fifty wounds to let in thee Because a troop of men might seeme to bee Comprised in that great Spirit, this […]...
11. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
12. A Song On A Sigh O tell mee, tell, thou god of wynde, In all thy cavernes canst thou finde A vapor, fume, a gale or blast Like to a sigh which love doth cast? Can any whirlwynde in thy vault Plough upp earth’s breast with like assault? Goe wynde and blowe thou where thou please, Yea breathles leave mee […]...
13. The Man Rock A man is a rock in a garden of chairs and waits For a longtime to be over. It is easier for a rock in a garden than a man Inside his mother. He decided to be a rock when He got outside. A rock asks only what is a rock. A rock waits to […]...
14. On The Death Of A Twin Where are yee now, Astrologers, that looke For petty accidents in Heavens booke? Two Twins, to whom one Influence gave breath, Differ in more than Fortune, Life and Death. While both were warme (for that was all they were Unlesse some feeble cry sayd Life was there By wavering change of health they seem’d to […]...
15. On A Gentlewoman's Blistred Lipp Hide not that sprouting lipp, nor kill The juicy bloome with bashfull skill: Know it is an amorous dewe That swells to court thy corall hewe, And what a blemish you esteeme To other eyes a pearle may seeme Whose watery growth is not above The thrifty seize that pearles doe love, And doth so […]...
16. On A Gentlewoman's Watch That Wanted A Key Thou pretty heav’n whose great and lesser spheares With constant wheelings measure hours and yeares Soe faithfully that thou couldst solve the doubt Of erring Time if Nature should be out, Where’s thy intelligence? thy Soule? the Key That gives thee Life and Motion? must thou stay Thus cramp’d with rusty Sloth? and shall each […]...
17. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
18. Your Riches taught me Poverty Your Riches taught me Poverty. Myself a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could boast Till broad as Buenos Ayre You drifted your Dominions A Different Peru And I esteemed All Poverty For Life’s Estate with you Of Mines, I little know myself But just the names, of Gems The Colors of the Commonest And […]...
19. On The Death Of Mrs. Mary Neudham As sinn makes gross the soule and thickens it To fleshy dulness, so the spotless white Of virgin pureness made thy flesh as cleere As others soules: thou couldst not tarry heere All soule in both parts: and what could it bee The Resurrection could bestow on thee, Allready glorious? thine Innocence (Thy better shroude) […]...
20. Epitaph On Mr. Bridgeman One pitt containes him now that could not dye Before a thousand pitts in him did lye; Soe many spotts upon his flesh were shewne ‘Cause on his soule sinne fastned almost none....
21. Sing Sing Music Was Given Sing sing Music was given To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; Souls here, like planets in heaven, By harmony’s laws alone are kept moving. Beauty may boast of her eyes and her cheeks, But Love from the lips his true archery wings; And she, who but feathers the dart when she speaks, At […]...
22. On His Lady Marie Marie, Incarnate Virtue, Soule and Skin Both pure, whom Death not Life convincd of Sin, Had Daughters like seven Pleiades; but She Was a prime Star of greatest Claritie....
23. Greekism Scarce has the fever so chilly of Gallomania departed, When a more burning attack in Grecomania breaks out. Greekism, what did it mean? ‘Twas harmony, reason, and clearness! Patience, good gentlemen, pray, ere ye of Greekism speak! ‘Tis for an excellent cause ye are fighting, and all that I ask for Is that with reason […]...
24. To My Little Niece Anne Duyckinck To his charming black-eyed niece Uncle Harry wishest peace! Wishes roses over strow’d O’er her sublunary road! No rude winds around her howl, O’er her head no tempests scowl; No red lightnings flash around, No loud thunders rock the ground! Bright has been her morning sun, Brighter still be that to come! All a blue […]...
25. Be Not Sad Be not sad because all men Prefer a lying clamour before you: Sweetheart, be at peace again – Can they dishonour you? They are sadder than all tears; Their lives ascend as a continual sigh. Proudly answer to their tears: As they deny, deny....
26. In Memory of F. P If I could ever write a lasting verse, It should be laid, deare Sainte, upon thy herse. But Sorrow is no muse, and doth confesse That it least can what most it would expresse. Yet, that I may some bounds to griefe allow, I’le try if I can weepe in numbers now. Ah beauteous blossom! […]...
27. Care-charming Sleep Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud Or painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet, And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain, Like hollow […]...
28. Old Botany Bay “I’m old Botany Bay; Stiff in the joints, Little to say. I am he Who paved the way, That you might walk At your ease to-day; I was the conscript Sent to hell To make in the desert The living well; I bore the heat, I blazed the track- Furrowed and bloody Upon my back. […]...
29. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
30. Love and Harmony Love and harmony combine, And round our souls entwine While thy branches mix with mine, And our roots together join. Joys upon our branches sit, Chirping loud and singing sweet; Like gentle streams beneath our feet Innocence and virtue meet. Thou the golden fruit dost bear, I am clad in flowers fair; Thy sweet boughs […]...
31. To a Certain Civilian DID you ask dulcet rhymes from me? Did you seek the civilian’s peaceful and languishing rhymes? Did you find what I sang erewhile so hard to follow? Why I was not singing erewhile for you to follow, to understand-nor am I now; (I have been born of the same as the war was born; The […]...
32. Beautiful Comrie Ye lovers of the picturesque, away, away! To beautiful Comrie and have a holiday; Aud bask in the sunahine and inhale the fragrant air Emanating from the woodlands and shrubberies there. The charming village of Comrie is most lovely to be seen, Especially in the summer season when the trees are green; And near by […]...
33. The Birds He. Where thou dwellest, in what grove, Tell me Fair One, tell me Love; Where thou thy charming nest dost build, O thou pride of every field! She. Yonder stands a lonely tree, There I live and mourn for thee; Morning drinks my silent tear, And evening winds my sorrow bear. He. O thou summer’s […]...
34. On the Wye in May Now is the perfect moment of the year. Half naked branches, half a mist of green, Vivid and delicate the slopes appear; The cool, soft air is neither fierce nor keen, And in the temperate sun we feel no fear; Of all the hours which shall be and have been, It is the briefest as […]...
35. 6th April 1651 L'Amitie: To Mrs. M. Awbrey Soule of my soule! my Joy, my crown, my friend! A name which all the rest doth comprehend; How happy are we now, whose sols are grown, By an incomparable mixture, One: Whose well acquainted minds are not as neare As Love, or vows, or secrets can endeare. I have no thought but what’s to […]...
36. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
37. Sonnet XLI: Why Do I Speak of Joy Love’s Lunacy Why do I speak of joy, or write of love, When my heart is the very den of horror, And in my soul the pains of Hell I prove, With all his torments and infernal terror? What should I say? What yet remains to do? My brain is dry with weeping all too […]...
38. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
39. HIS POETRY HIS PILLAR Only a little more I have to write: Then I’ll give o’er, And bid the world good-night. ‘Tis but a flying minute, That I must stay, Or linger in it: And then I must away. O Time, that cut’st down all, And scarce leav’st here Memorial Of any men that were; How many lie forgot […]...
40. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...