TITYRUS.
O Meliboeus, a god for us this leisure created,
For he will be unto me a god forever; his altar
Oftentimes shall imbue a tender lamb from our sheepfolds.
He, my heifers to wander at large, and myself, as thou seest,
On my rustic reed to play what I will, hath permitted.

A Hymn

© James Shirley

O fly, my Soul! What hangs upon
Thy drooping wings,
And weighs them down
With love of gaudy mortal things?

Epigram - Frank Carves Very Ill

© Matthew Prior

Frank carves very ill, yet will palm all the meats;

He eats more than six, and drinks more than he eats.

We, Who Were Slain In Unlit Pathways

© Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Wishing for the roses of your lips
we offered ourselves to a gallows' twig
Longing for the radiance of your glowing hands
we let ourselves be slain in unlit pathways

Celia Bleeding, To the Surgeon

© Thomas Carew

Fond man, that canst believe her blood
Will from those purple channels flow;
Or that the pure untainted flood
Can any foul distemper know;
Or that thy weak steel can incise
The crystal case wherein it lies:

Where The Battle Passed

© Madison Julius Cawein

ONE blossoming rose-tree, like a beautiful thought
Nursed in a broken mind, that waits and schemes,
Survives, though shattered, and about it caught,
The strangling dodder streams.

To The Tiber

On its late (in 1871) Inundation of Rome

The Unfinished Book

TAKE it, reader, idly passing,
This, like other idle lines;
Take it, critic, great at classing
Subtle genius and its signs:

Genius Loci

I.

What deity for dozing laziness

Of The Death Of Sir Thomas Wyatt The Elder

© Henry Howard

Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest;
Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,
And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;
Such profit he by envy could obtain.