ThursdayOct 03, 2024
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
Thou shalt confess the vain pursuit Of human glory yields no fruit But an untimely grave.
Then fly betimes, for only they Conquer Love that run away.
Ask me no more if east or west The Phoenix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies.
Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale when May is past; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beautys orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.
Sweetly breathing, vernal air, That with kind warmth doth repair Winter's ruins; from whose breast All the gums and spice of the East Borrow their perfumes; whose eye Gilds the morn, and clears the sky.
He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires,-- As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away.
Give me more love or more disdain; The torrid or the frozen zone: Bring equal ease unto my pain; The temperate affords me none.
The magic of a face.
Here lies a King that ruled, as he thought fit The universal monarchy of wit; Here lies two flamens, and both those the best: Apollos first, at last the true Gods priest.
The firstling of the infant year.
A smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires.
Give me more love or more disdain; The torrid or the frozen zone.
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