Автор: EDWARD DE VERE

What cunning can express The favor of her face To whom in this distress I do appeal for grace? A […]

“When wert thou born, Desire?” In pomp and prime of May. “By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot?” By good […]

Who taught thee first to sigh, alas, my heart? Who taught thy tongue the woeful words of plaint? Who filled […]

If care or skill could conquer vain desire, Or Reason’s reins my strong affection stay: There should my sighs to […]

The labouring man, that tills the fertile soil And reaps the harvest fruit, hath not in deed The gain, but […]

[Ed. Note: De Vere was a quarrelsome individual and frequently had to leave Court in consequence. –Nelson] Framed in the […]

Fain would I sing, but fury makes me fret, And Rage hath sworn to seek revenge of wrong; My mazed […]

Winged with desire, I seek to mount on high, Clogged with mishap, yet am I kept full low; Who seeks […]

What is Desire, which doth approve, To set on fire each gentle heart? A fancy strange, or God of Love, […]

Whenas the heart at tennis plays, and men to gaming fall, Love is the court, hope is the house, and […]

If women could be fair and yet not fond, Or that their love were firm, not fickle still, I would […]

Were I a king I could command content. Were I obscure, unknown should be my cares. And were I dead, […]

When I was fair and young then favour graced me; Of many was I sought their mistress for to be. […]

What plague is greater than the grief of mind? The grief of mind that eats in every vein; In every […]