A Book of Verse
A book of verse, underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread - and thou
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Ah, My Beloved
Ah, my beloved, fill the cup that clears
Today of past regrets and future fears;
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Upon Julia's Clothes
Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
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Reluctance
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
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Proud of my Broken Heart
Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it.
Proud of the pain, I did not feel ‘till thee.
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To the Virgins, Make Much of Time
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying,
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Why Is The Rose So Pale
Oh Dearest, canst thou tell me why
The Rose should be so pale?
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Tell me not, Sweet,
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind
For, from the nunnery
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Still to be Neat
Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
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I Should Not Dare
I should not dare to leave my friend,
Because if he should die
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