For eu’ry season she hath dressings fitt,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No Beautie shee doth misse,
When all her Robes are on:
But Beauties selfe shee is,
When all her Robes are gone.
Similar Posts
WYNTER wakeneth al my care,
Ofte I sike ant mourne sareWhen hit cometh in my thohtOf this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht.Nou hit is, and nou hit nys,Al so hit ner nere, ywys;That moni mon seith, soth hit ys:Al goth bote Godes wille:Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle.Al that gren me graueth grene,Nou hit faleweth…
O HAPPY dames! that may embrace
Help to bewail the woful caseAnd eke the heavy plightOf me, that wonted to rejoiceThe fortune of my pleasant choice:Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.In ship, freight with rememberanceOf thoughts and pleasures past,He sails that hath in governanceMy life while it will last:With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,Furthering his hope, that is…
LESTENYT, lordynges, both elde and yinge,
Swych a rose to myn lykyngeIn al this word ne knowe I non.The Aungil came fro hevene tour,To grete Marye with gret honour,And seyde sche xuld bere the flourThat xulde breke the fyndes bond.The flour sprong in heye Bedlem,That is bothe bryht and schen:The rose is Mary hevene qwyn,Out of here bosum the blosme sprong.The…
Phyllida. CORYDON, arise, my Corydon!
Corydon. Who is it that calleth Corydon?Who is it that I hear?Phyl. Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee,Arise then, arise then,Arise and keep thy flock with me!Cor. Phyllida, my true love, is it she?I come then, I come then,I come and keep my flock with thee.Phyl. Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon;Eat them for…
There is a Miracle called Friendship
and you don’t know how it happensor when it even starts.But the happiness it brings youalways gives a special liftand you realize thatFriendshipis God’s most precious gift.
O WHAT a plague is love!
She will inconstant prove,I greatly fear it.She so torments my mindThat my strength faileth,And wavers with the windAs a ship saileth.Please her the best I may,She loves still to gainsay;Alack and well-a-day!Phillada flouts me.At the fair yesterdayShe did pass by me;She look’d another wayAnd would not spy me:I woo’d her for to dine,But could not…
For eu’ry season she hath dressings fitt,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No Beautie shee doth misse,
When all her Robes are on:
But Beauties selfe shee is,
When all her Robes are gone.
Similar Posts
Seynt Stevene was a clerk in Kyng Herowd{.e}s halle,
Stevyn out of kechone cam, wyth boris hed on honde;He saw a sterre was fayr and bryght over Bedlem stonde.He kyst adoun the boris hed and went in to the halle:‘I forsak the, Kyng Herowd{.e}s, and thi werkes all{.e}.’‘I forsak the, Kyng Herowd{.e}s, and thi werkes alle;Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter…
Is it parting with the roundness
Is it losing from the dimplesHalf the flashing joy they speak?Is it fading of the lustreFrom the wavy, golden hair?Is it finding on the foreheadGraven lines of thought and care?Is it dropping, as the rose-leavesDrop their sweetness overblown,Household names that once were dearer,More familiar than our own?Is it meeting on the pathwayFaces strange and glances…
The stars were bright, the breeze was still,
Alone disturbed the scene;A streamlet down the dark ravine,Hasted the gloomy spot to shun,And bear its little tribute to Cub Run.The wayward step of one astray,He scared the whippoorwill away.A soldier reels to the little rill,And tries his sordid cup to fill,Then dizzily pitches across the branch,Too weak his mortal wound to staunch.He wakes anon,…
‘I was bat seven year alld
My father marr{.e}d the ae warst womanThe wardle did ever see.‘For she has made me the lailly wormThat lays att the fitt of the tree,An o my sister MeassryThe machrel of the sea.‘An every Saterday att noonThe machrl comes to me,An she takes my layl{.e} head,An lays it on her knee,An keames it we a…
…
A wat a’ man to bed were gone,Clark Sanders came to Margret’s window,With mony a sad sigh and groan.‘Are ye sleeping, Margret,’ he says,‘Or are ye waking, presentlie?Give me my faith and trouthe again,A wat, trew-love, I gied to thee.’‘Your faith and trouth ye’s never get,Nor our trew love shall never twain,Till ye come with…
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Oh that I were where Helen liesOn fair Kirconnell lea!Curst be the heart that thought the thought,And curst the hand that fired the shot,When in my arms burd Helen dropt,And died to succour me!O think na but my heart was sairWhen my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!I laid her down wi’ meikle careOn…
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For eu’ry season she hath dressings fitt,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No Beautie shee doth misse,
When all her Robes are on:
But Beauties selfe shee is,
When all her Robes are gone.
Similar Posts
There was a knight was drunk with wine,
And there he met with a lady fine,Among the cocks of hay, sir.‘Shall you and I, O lady faire,Among the grass lye down-a,And I will have a special careOf rumpling of your gown-a?’‘Upon the grass there is a deweWill spoil my damask gown, sir;My gowne and kirtle they are newe,And cost me many a crowne,…
Ich am of Irlaunde,
Of Irlande.Gode sire, pray ich the,For of saynte charite,Come ant daunce wyth meIn Irlaunde.
Part the First
He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright;And many a gallant brave suiter had shee,For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee.And though shee was of favor most faire,Yett seing shee was but a poor beggars heyre,Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee,Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee.Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy…
An ancient story Ile tell you anon
And he ruled England with maine and with might,For he did great wrong, and maintein’d little right.And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye,Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye,How for his house-keeping and high renowne,They rode poste for him to fair London towne.An hundred men, the king did heare say,The abbot kept in his…
UNFERTH spake, the son of Ecglaf,
unbound the battle-runes. — Beowulf’s quest,sturdy seafarer’s, sorely galled him;ever he envied that other menshould more achieve in middle-earthof fame under heaven than he himself. —‘Art thou that Beowulf, Breca’s rival,who emulous swam on the open sea,when for pride the pair of you proved the floods,and wantonly dared in waters deepto risk your lives? No…
As I cam in by Dunidier,
There was fifty thousand HielanmenA-marching to Harlaw.As I cam on, an farther on,An doun and by Balquhain,Oh there I met Sir James the Rose,Wi him Sir John the Gryme.‘O cam ye frae the Hielands, man,An cam ye a’ the wey?Saw ye Macdonell an his men,As they cam frae the Skee?’‘Yes, me cam frae ta Hielands,…