OVER hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moone’s sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green:
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some placeWith beauty’s treasure, ere it be self-kill’d.That use is not forbidden usury,Which happies those that pay the willing loan;That’s for thyself to breed another thee,Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:Then what…
We’ve come again to that knee of seacoastno ocean can reach.Tie together all human intellects.They won’t stretch to here.The sky bares its neck so beautifully,but gets no kiss. Only a taste.This is the food that everyone wants,wandering the wilderness, “Please give usYour manna and quail.”We’re here again with the Beloved.This air, a shout. These meadowsounds,an…
The three stood listening to a fresh accessOf wind that caught against the house a moment,Gulped snow, and then blew free again-the ColesDressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep,Meserve belittled in the great skin coat he wore. Meserve was first to speak. He pointed backwardOver his shoulder with his pipe-stem, saying,‘You can just see…
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head,Which have no correspondence with true sight!Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,That censures falsely what they see aright?If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,What means the world to say it is not so?If it be not, then love doth well denoteLove’s…
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,That having such a scope to show her pride,The argument all bare is of more worthThan when it hath my added praise beside!O, blame me not, if I no more can write!Look in your glass, and there appears a faceThat over-goes my blunt invention quite,Dulling my lines and doing…
A foolish thing was but a toy,For the rain it raineth every day.But when I came to man’s estate,With hey, ho, . . .‘Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gateFor the rain, . . .But when I came, alas! to wive,With hey, ho, . . .By swaggering could I never thrive,For the rain, ….
