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,...

Was it the worke of nature or of Art? which tempred so the feature of her face: that pride and meeknesse mixt by equall part, doe both appeare t'adorne her beauties grace.For with mild pleasance, which doth pride displace,...

The merry Cuckow, messenger of Spring, His trompet shrill hath thrise already sounded: that warnes al louers wayt upon their king, who now is comming forth with girland crouned.With noyse whereof the quyre of Byrds resounded their...

So hab ich wirklich dich verloren?Bist du, o Sch;ne, mir entfloh’n?Noch klingt in den gewohnten OhrenEin jedes Wort, ein jeder Ton.So wie des Wandrers Blick am MorgenVergebens in die L;fte dringt,Wenn, in dem blauen Raum verbor...

Puisque tes jours ne t’ont laiss;Qu’un peu de cendre dans la bouche,Avant qu’on ne tende la coucheO; ton coeur dorme, enfin glac;,Retourne, comme au temps pass;,Cueillir, pr;s de la dune instable,Le lys qu’y courbe un souffle amer,...