I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry.
In Heaven, it is always Autumn".
Art is the most passionate orgy within man's grasp.
The flea though he kill none he does all the harm he can.
At the round earth's imagined corners blowYour trumpets, angels, and arise, ariseFrom death, you numberless infinitiesOf souls, and to your scattered bodies go ;All whom the flood did, and fire shall...
As virtuous men pass mildly away, and whisper to their souls to go, whilst some of their sad friends do say, the breath goes now, and some say no.
One short sleep past will wake eternally And death shall be no more Death thou shalt die.
Between cowardice and despair valour is gendered.
Doubt wisely; in strange wayTo stand inquiring right, is not to stray;To sleep, or run wrong, is.
Death be not proud though some have called Thee Mighty and dreadful for thou art not so.
The difference between the reason of man and the instinct of the beast is this that the beast does but know but the man knows that he knows.
All kings and all their favourites All glory of honours beauties wits The sun itself which makes time as they pass Is elder by a year now than it was When thou and I first one another saw. All...
Methinks I lied all winter, when I sworeMy love was infinite, if spring makes it more.
Death be not proud, though some have called 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 me.
No man is an Island intire of it self every man is a peece of the Continent a part of the maine if a Clod be washed away by the sea Europe is the lesse as well as if a Promontorie were as well a...
He must pull out his own eyes, and see no creature, before he can say, he sees no God He must be no man, and quench his reasonable soul, before he can say to himself, there is no God.
Keep us Lord so awake in the duties of our calling that we may sleep in thy peace and wake in thy glory.
Love all love of other sights controls. And makes one little room an everywhere.
Reason is our soul's left hand Faith her right. By this we reach divinity.
Dear love, for nothing less than theeWould I have broke this happy dream;It was a themeFor reason, much too strong for fantasy,Therefore thou wak'd'st me wisely; yetMy dream thou brok'st not, but cont...