SWEET is the Rose, but grows upon a brere; Sweet is the Juniper, but sharp his bough; sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh near; sweet is the firbloom, but his branches roughSweet is the Cypress, but his rind is tough, sweet is the nut...

RUDELY thou wrongest my dear heart's desire, In finding fault with her too portly pride: the thing which I do most in her admire, is of the world unworthy most envied. For in those lofty looks is close implied, scorn of base things...

Be nought dismayd that her unmoved mind doth still persist in her rebellious pride: such love, not lyke to lusts of baser kynd, the harder wonne, the firmer will abide.The durefull Oake, whose sap in not yet dride, is long ere it c...

Fayre eyes, the myrrour of my mazed hart, what wondrous vertue is contaynd in you the which both lyfe and death forth from you dart into the object of your mighty view?For when ye mildly looke with lovely hew, then is my soule...

When I behold that beauties wonderment, And rare perfection of each goodly part, Of Natures skill the onely complement, I honor and admire the Makers art. But when I feele the bitter balefull smart Which her fayre eyes unwares doe work...

How long shall this like dying life endure,And know no end of her own mystery:But waste and wear away in terms unsure,'Twixt fear and hope depending doubtfully?Yet better were at once to let me die,And show the last...

What guyle is this, that those her golden tresses,She doth attyre vnder a net of gold:and with sly skill so cunningly them dresses,that which is gold or heare, may scarse be told?Is it that mens frayle eyes, which gaze too bold,she may...

Penelope for her Ulisses sake, Deviz'd a Web her wooers to deceave: in which the worke that she all day did make the same at night she did againe unreave,Such subtile craft my Damzell doth conceave, th'importune suit of my desire t...

Der Bach hat leise Melodien,und fern ist Staub und Stadt.Die Wipfel winken her und hinund machen mich sо matt.Der Wald ist wild, die Welt ist weit,mein Herz ist hell und gro;.Es h;lt die blasse Einsamkeitmein Haupt in ihrem...

Herr, es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr gro;.Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,und auf den Fluren lass die Winde los.Befiehl den letzten Fr;chten, voll zu sein;gib ihnen noch zwei s;dlichere Tage,dr;nge sie zur Vollendung hin,...