William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding read more
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-who;
Tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
I would I had some flowers o' th' spring that might
Become your time of day, and yours, and read more
I would I had some flowers o' th' spring that might
Become your time of day, and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing. O, Proserpina,
For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let'st fall
From Dis's wagon; daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength--a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one.
Treason and murder ever kept together,
As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
Working so grossly in read more
Treason and murder ever kept together,
As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
Working so grossly in a natural cause
That admiration did not whoop at them;
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
Wonder to wait on treason and on murder;
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
That wrought upon thee so preposterously
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence.
What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when read more
What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
O wretched state? O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that struggling to be free
Art more engaged!
In time we hate that which we often fear.
In time we hate that which we often fear.
Yet marked O where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before read more
Yet marked O where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting.
Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting.
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, brags of his substance: they are but beggars who can count their read more
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, brags of his substance: they are but beggars who can count their worth.
Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to
all others because you were born in it.
Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to
all others because you were born in it.
