John Dryden

You know I met you,
Kist you, and prest you close within my arms,
With all the read more

You know I met you,
Kist you, and prest you close within my arms,
With all the tenderness of wifely love.

He raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

He raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of read more

The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.

Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.

Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.

Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense
Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.

Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense
Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.