27. WINTER. When icicles hang by the wali And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail ; Tuwhit! tuwhoo! A merry note! When all around the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And Marian's nose looks red and raw : Tuwhit! tuwhoo! A merry note! 28. W. SHAKESPEARE. That time of year thou may'st in me behold In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, As the deathbed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by: --This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. W. SHAKESPEARE. 29. REMEMBRANCE. When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, -But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, 30. REVOLUTIONS. Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity once in the main of light Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, C Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand 31. Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter; 32. THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION. They that have power to hurt, and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmovéd, cold, and to temptation slow, They rightly do inherit Heaven's graces, The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. W. SHAKESPEARE. 33. THE LOVER'S APPEAL. And wilt thou leave me thus? And wilt thou leave me thus, And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath given thee my heart Neither for pain nor smart: And wilt thou leave me thus, And have no more pity Of him that loveth thee? Alas! thy cruelty ! And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay! say nay! SIR T. WYAT. 34. THE NIGHTINGALE. As it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, Beasts did leap and birds did sing, Trees did grow and plants did spring, |