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In Laudem Authoris.
Like to the weake estate of a poore friend,To whom sweet fortune hath bene euer slow,VVhich dayly doth that happy howre attend,VVhen his poore state..
©  Francis Beaumont
The Glance
Cold Virtue guard me, or I shall endureFrom the next glance a double calentureOf fire and lust! Two flames, two Semeles,Dwell in those eyes, whose..
©  Francis Beaumont
Ad Comitissam Rutlandiæ
Madam, so may my verses pleasing be,So may you laugh at them and not at me,'Tis something to you gladly I would say;But how to do't I cannot find the..
©  Francis Beaumont
An Elegy On The Lady Markham
As unthrifts groan in straw for their pawn'd beds,As women weep for their lost maidenheads,When both are without hope or remedy,Such an untimely..
©  Francis Beaumont
To The True Patroness Of All Poetry, Calliope
It is a statute in deep wisdom's lore,That for his lines none should a patron chuseBy wealth and poverty, by less or more,But who the same is able to..
©  Francis Beaumont
To The True Patronesse Of All Poetrie
IT is a statute in deepe wisdomes lore,That for his lines none should a patro[n] chuseBy wealth or pouerty, by lesse or more,But who the same is able..
©  Francis Beaumont
Fie On Love
Now fie on foolish love, it not befitsOr man or woman know it.Love was not meant for people in their wits,And they that fondly show itBetray the..
©  Francis Beaumont
Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter To Ben Jonson
The sun, which doth the greatest comfort bringTo absent friends (because the self-same thingThey know they see, however absent), isHere our best..
©  Francis Beaumont
On The Marriage Of A Beauteous Young Gentlewoman With An Ancient Man
Fondly, too curious Nature, to adornAurora with the blushes of the morn:Why do her rosy lips breath gums and spice;Unto the East, and sweet to..
©  Francis Beaumont
The Author To The Reader
I sing the fortune of a luckless pair,Whose spotless souls now in one body be;For beauty still is Prodromus to care,Crost by the sad stars of..
©  Francis Beaumont
The Indifferent
Never more will I protest,To love a woman but in jest:For as they cannot be true,So, to give each man his due,When the wooing fit is pastTheir..
©  Francis Beaumont
True Beauty
May I find a woman fair,And her mind as clear as air,If her beauty go alone,'Tis to me as if't were none.May I find a woman rich,And not of too high..
©  Francis Beaumont
Lay A Garland On My Hearse
Lay a garland on my hearse,Of the dismal yew,Maidens, willow branches bear,Say I died true.My love was false, but I was firmFrom my hour of..
©  Francis Beaumont
On The Tombs In Westminster Abbey
MORTALITY, behold and fear!What a change of flesh is here!Think how many royal bonesSleep within this heap of stones:Here they lie had realms and..
©  Francis Beaumont
The Phantom-Wooer
A ghost, that loved a lady fair,Ever in the starry airOf midnight at her pillow stood;And, with a sweetness skies aboveThe luring words of human..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Dirge
We do lie beneath the grassIn the moonlight, in the shadeOf the yew-tree. They that passHear us not. We are afraidThey would envy our delight,In our..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
A Crocodile
Hard by the lilied Nile I sawA duskish river-dragon stretched along,The brown habergeon of his limbs enamelledWith sanguine almandines and rainy..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Poor Old Pilgrim Misery ( Song )
Act I, scene 1, lines 141-60Poor old pilgrim Misery,Beneath the silent moon he sate,A-listening to the screech owl's cry,And the cold wind's goblin..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
From “torrismond” - In A Garden By Moonlight
Veronica. COME then, a song; a winding gentle song,To lead me into sleep. Let it be lowAs zephyr, telling secrets to his rose,For I would hear the..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Thoughts
Sweet are the thoughts that haunt the poet’s brainLike rainbow-fringed clouds, through which some starPeeps in bright glory on a shepherd swain;They..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
A Rivulet
It is a lovely stream; its wavelets purlAs if they echoed to the fall and riseOf the capricious breeze; each upward curlThat splashes pearl, mirrors..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Song Of The Stygian Naiades
Proserpine may pull her flowers,Wet with dew or wet with tears,Red with anger, pale with fears;Is it any fault of ours,If Pluto be an amorous kingAnd..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Dream-Pedlary (Excerpt)
If there were dreams to sell,What would you buy?Some cost a passing bell;Some a light sigh,That shakes from Life's fresh crownOnly a rose-leaf..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
The Swallow Leaves Her Nest
THE swallow leaves her nest,The soul my weary breast;But therefore let the rainOn my graveFall pure; for why complain?Since both will come againO'er..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Song From Torrismond
How many times do I love thee, dear?Tell me how many thoughts there beIn the atmosphereOf a new-fall'n year,Whose white and sable hours appearThe..
©  Thomas Lovell Beddoes