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" Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move... "
The Complete Angler: Or the Contemplative Man's Recreation, Being a ... - Сторінка 81
автори: Izaak Walton - 1875 - 320 стор.
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Bartlett's Poems for Occasions

Geoffrey O'Brien, Billy Collins - 2007 - 544 стор.
...yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,...folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, — All these in me no means can move To come to thee and...
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Forever and for Always

Longfellowpress - 2004 - 124 стор.
...yields; A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies Soon break, soon wither, soon forgottenIn folly ripe, in season rotten, Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber...
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The English Reader: What Every Literate Person Needs to Know

Diane Ravitch - 2006 - 486 стор.
...yields; A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies...no means can move To come to thee and be thy love. Nature, That Hath Washed Her Hands in Milk Nature, that hath washed her hands in milk, And had forgot...
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The Complete Poems and Translations

Christopher Marlowe - 2007 - 287 стор.
...yields; 10 A honey tongue, a heart of gall Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,...no means can move To come to thee and be thy love. 2.0 But could youth last and love still breed, Had joys no date, nor age no need, Then these delights...
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The Countryside

Kathryn Hinds - 2007 - 80 стор.
...yields; A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies...in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, The coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy love....
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