Автор: THOMAS WYATT

Avising the bright beams of those fair eyes, Where he abides that mine oft moisteth and washeth; The wearies mind […]

The pillar perish’d is whereto I leant, The strongest stay of my unquiet mind; The like of it no man […]

Such is the course that nature’s kind hath wrought That snakes have time to cast away their stings: Against chain’d […]

WHAT should I say? –Since Faith is dead, And Truth away From you is fled? Should I be led With […]

And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay, say nay, for shame, To save thee from the blame Of all […]

They flee from me, that sometime did me seek, With naked foot stalking within my chamber: Once have I seen […]

Lux, my fair falcon, and your fellows all, How well pleasant it were your liberty. Ye not forsake me that […]

MY mother’s maids, when they did sew and spin, They sang sometime a song of the field mouse, That for […]