I'LL NEVER LOVE THEE MORE My dear and only Love, I pray Like Alexander I will reign, My thoughts did evermore disdain He either fears his fate too much, That dares not put it to the touch, And in the empire of thine heart, If others do pretend a part But if thou wilt prove faithful then, I'll serve thee in such noble ways I'll crown and deck thee all with bays, James Graham, Marquis of Montrose ABSENCE Absence, hear thou this protestation Distance, and length; Do what thou canst for alteration: Absence doth join, and Time doth settle. Who loves a mistress of such quality, Affection's ground Beyond time, place, and all mortality. Absence is present, Time doth tarry. By absence this good means I gain, Where none can watch her, In some close corner of my brain : There I embrace and kiss her; And so I both enjoy and miss her. John Donne IN ABSENCE All that thou art not, makes not up the sum John Banister Tabb O, FAIN WOULD I O, fain would I, before I die, That thou may'st say, when I am gone, Dearest, before you condescend For love's a fire in young and old, 'Tis sometimes hot and sometimes cold, And now you know that, when they please, Then wisely choose a friend that may Last for an age, and not a day, Who loves thee not for lip or eye, But for thy mutual sympathy! Let such a friend thy heart engage, Anon BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Then, heigh ho! the holly! William Shakespeare I DID BUT LOOK I did but look and love awhile, To sigh, and wish, is all my ease: O! would your pity give my heart One corner of your breast, 'Twould learn of yours the winning art, And quickly steal the rest! Thomas Otway. SUCH A STARVED BANK OF MOSS Such a starved bank of moss Till, that May-morn, Blue ran the flash across : Violets were born! Sky what a scowl of cloud, Ray on ray split the shroud: World-how it walled about Life with disgrace, Till God's own smile came out: Robert Browning |