mehwish67/poem_Generator
0.1B • Updated • 9
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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Let the bird of loudest lay
On the sole Arabian tree
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.
From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, fe... | The Phoenix and the Turtle | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE MARGARET CAVENDISH | Sir Charles into my chamber coming in,
When I was writing of my Fairy Queen;
I praysaid hewhen Queen Mab you do see
Present my service to her Majesty:
And tell her I have heard Fame's loud report
Both of her beauty and her stately court.
When I Queen Mab within my fancy viewed,
My thoughts bowed low, fearing I s... | An Epilogue to the Above | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
THOMAS BASTARD | Our vice runs beyond all that old men saw,
And far authentically above our laws,
And scorning virtues safe and golden mean,
Sits uncontrolled upon the high extreme.
Circes, thy monsters painted out the hue,
Of feigned filthiness, but ours is true.
Our vice puts down all proverbs and all themes,
Our vice excels a... | Book 7, Epigram 42 | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
EDMUND SPENSER | Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,
As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds,
Am now enforst a far unfitter taske,
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
Whose prayses having slept in silence long,
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds
To bla... | from The Faerie Queene: Book I, Canto I | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
RICHARD BARNFIELD | Long have I longd to see my love againe,
Still have I wisht, but never could obtaine it;
Rather than all the world (if I might gaine it)
Would I desire my loves sweet precious gaine.
Yet in my soule I see him everie day,
See him, and see his still sterne countenaunce,
But (ah) what is of long continuance,
Where ... | Sonnet 16 | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
RICHARD BARNFIELD | Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape,
Might not compare with his pure ivorie white,
On whose faire front a poets pen may write,
Whose roseate red excels the crimson grape,
His love-enticing delicate soft limbs,
Are rarely framd tintrap poore gazine eies:
His cheeks, the lillie and carnation dies... | Sonnet 17 | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
SIR WALTER RALEGH | Praisd be Dianas fair and harmless light;
Praisd be the dews wherewith she moists the ground;
Praisd be her beams, the glory of the night;
Praisd be her power by which all powers abound.
Praisd be her nymphs with whom she decks the woods,
Praisd be her knights in whom true honour lives;
Praisd be that force by ... | Praisd be Dianas Fair and Harmless Light | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
QUEEN ELIZABETH I | When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.
Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.
But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:
Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more.
How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe,
How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show,
But I the ... | When I Was Fair and Young | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
JOHN DONNE | When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead
And that thou think'st thee free
From all solicitation from me,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee, feign'd vestal, in worse arms shall see;
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,
And he, whose thou art then, being tir'd before,
Will, if thou stir, o... | The Apparition | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
JOHN SKELTON | Pla ce bo,
Who is there, who?
Di le xi,
Dame Margery;
Fa, re, my, my,
Wherfore and why, why?
For the sowle of Philip Sparowe,
That was late slayn at Carowe,
Among the Nones Blake,
For that swete soules sake,
And for all sparowes soules,
Set in our bederolles,
Pater noster qui,
With an Ave Mari,
And with t... | The Book of Phillip Sparrow | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
EDMUND SPENSER | Ye learned sisters which have oftentimes
Beene to me ayding, others to adorne:
Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes,
That even the greatest did not greatly scorne
To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes,
But joyed in theyr prayse.
And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,
Which death, or lov... | Epithalamion | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE | On Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood,
In view and opposite two cities stood,
Sea-borderers, disjoin'd by Neptune's might;
The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair,
Whom young Apollo courted for her hair,
And offer'd as a dower his burning throne,
Where she could sit for m... | Hero and Leander | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
EDMUND SPENSER | By that he ended had his ghostly sermon,
The fox was well induc'd to be a parson,
And of the priest eftsoons gan to inquire,
How to a benefice he might aspire.
"Marry, there" (said the priest) "is art indeed:
Much good deep learning one thereout may read;
For that the ground-work is, and end of all,
How to obtai... | Prosopopoia: or Mother Hubbard's Tale | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
EDMUND SPENSER | CALM was the day, and through the trembling air
Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play,
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair;
When I whose sullen care,
Through discontent of my long fruitless stay
In prince's court, and expectation vain
Of idle hopes, which sti... | Prothalamion | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
EDMUND SPENSER | THENOT & HOBBINOLL
Tell me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete?
What? hath some Wolfe thy tender Lambes ytorne?
Or is thy Bagpype broke, that soundes so sweete?
Or art thou of thy loved lasse forlorne?
Or bene thine eyes attempred to the yeare,
Quenching the gasping furrowes thirst with rayne?
Like... | from The Shepheardes Calender: April | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
EDMUND SPENSER | PIERCE & CUDDIE
Cuddie, for shame hold up thy heavye head,
And let us cast with what delight to chace,
And weary thys long lingring Phoebus race.
Whilome thou wont the shepheards laddes to leade,
In rymes, in ridles, and in bydding base:
Now they in thee, and thou in sleepe art dead.
CUDDY
Piers... | from The Shepheardes Calender: October | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
JOHN DONNE | Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou be'st born to strange s... | Song: Go and catch a falling star | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In swee... | Song: Orpheus with his lute made trees | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are ... | Sonnet 53: What is your substance, whereof are you made | Renaissance | Mythology & Folklore |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds oertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heal... | Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day | Renaissance | Nature |
THOMAS BASTARD | The welcome Sun from sea Freake is returned,
And cheereth with his beams the naked earth,
Which gains with his coming her apparel
And had his absence six long months mourned.
Out of her fragrant sides she sends to greet him
The rashed primrose and the violet;
While she the fields and meadows doth beset
With flow... | Book 1, Epigram 34: Ad. Thomam Freake armig. de veris adventu. | Renaissance | Nature |
THOMAS BASTARD | I met a courtier riding on the plain,
Well-mounted on a brave and gallant steed;
I sat upon a jade, and spurred to my pain
My lazy beast, whose tired sides did bleed:
He saw my case, and then of courtesy
Did rein his horse, and drew the bridle in,
Because I did desire his company:
But he corvetting way of me did... | Book 2, Epigram 22 | Renaissance | Nature |
THOMAS BASTARD | Walking the fields a wantcatcher I spied,
To him I went, desirous of his game:
Sir, have you taken wants? Yes, he replied,
Here are a dozen, which were lately taen.
Then you have left no more. No more? quoth he.
Sir I can show you more: the more the worse;
And to his work he went, but 'twould not be,
For all the... | Book 2, Epigram 8 | Renaissance | Nature |
THOMAS BASTARD | Fishing, if I a fisher may protest,
Of pleasures is the sweetest, of sports the best,
Of exercises the most excellent.
Of recreations the most innocent.
But now the sport is marred, and what, ye, why?
Fishes decrease, and fishers multiply. | Book 6, Epigram 14: De Piscatione. | Renaissance | Nature |
LADY MARY WROTH | Come darkest night, becoming sorrow best;
Light; leave thy light; fitt for a lightsome soule;
Darknes doth truly sure with mee oprest
Whom absence power doth from mirthe controle:
The very trees with hanging heads condole
Sweet sommers parting, and of leaves distrest
In dying coulers make a ... | from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 19 | Renaissance | Nature |
EDMUND SPENSER | Januarie. gloga prima. ARGVMENT.
IN this fyrst glogue Colin clout a shepheardes boy complaineth him of his vnfortunate loue, being but newly (as semeth) enamoured of a countrie lasse called Rosalinde: with which strong affection being very sore traueled, he compareth his carefull case to the sadde season of the ... | The Shepheardes Calender: January | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslips bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bats back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. | Song: Where the bee sucks, there suck I | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Tis true, tis day, what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise because tis light?
Did we lie down because twas night?
Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
Should in despite of light keep us together.
Light hath no tongue, but is all eye;
If it could speak as well as... | Break of Day | Renaissance | Nature |
ROBERT SOUTHWELL, SJ | As I in hoary winters night stood shivering in the snow,
Surprisd I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty Babe all burning bright did in the air appear;
Who, scorched with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed
As though his flood... | The Burning Babe | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM BYRD | Care for thy soul as thing of greatest price,
Made to the end to taste of power divine,
Devoid of guilt, abhorring sin and vice,
Apt by Gods grace to virtue to incline.
Care for it so as by thy retchless train
It be not brought to taste eternal pain.
Care for thy corse, but chiefly for souls sake;
... | Care for Thy Soul as Thing of Greatest Price | Renaissance | Nature |
QUEEN ELIZABETH I | The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy;
For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects faith doth ebb,
Which should not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the web.
But clouds of joys untried do cloak aspiring minds,
Which turn to rain of late repent ... | The Doubt of Future Foes | Renaissance | Nature |
GEORGE GASCOIGNE | Fie pleasure, fie! thou cloyest me with delight,
Thou fillst my mouth with sweetmeats overmuch;
I wallow still in joy both day and night:
I deem, I dream, I do, I taste, I touch,
No thing but all that smells of perfect bliss;
Fie pleasure, fie! I cannot like of this.
To taste (sometimes) a bait of bitter gal... | Fie, Pleasure, Fie! | Renaissance | Nature |
HENRY VIII, KING OF ENGLAND | Green groweth the holly,
So doth the ivy.
Though winter blasts blow never so high,
Green groweth the holly.
As the holly groweth green
And never changeth hue,
So I am, ever hath been,
Unto my lady true.
As the holly groweth green
With ivy all alone
When flowers cannot be seen
And greenwood leaves be gone... | Green Groweth the Holly | Renaissance | Nature |
SIR THOMAS WYATT | Lucks, my fair falcon, and your fellows all,
How well pleasant it were your liberty!
Ye not forsake me that fair might ye befall.
But they that sometime liked my company:
Like lice away from dead bodies they crawl.
Lo what a proof in light adversity!
But ye my birds, I swear by all your bells,
Ye be my friend... | Lucks, My Fair Falcon | Renaissance | Nature |
SIR WALTER RALEGH | If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherds tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers d... | The Nymphs Reply to the Shepherd | Renaissance | Nature |
EN JONSON | Gut eats all day and lechers all the night;
So all his meat he tasteth over twice;
And, striving so to double his delight,
He makes himself a thoroughfare of vice.
Thus in his belly can he change a sin:
Lust it comes out, that gluttony went in. | On Gut | Renaissance | Nature |
SIR WALTER RALEGH | Praisd be Dianas fair and harmless light;
Praisd be the dews wherewith she moists the ground;
Praisd be her beams, the glory of the night;
Praisd be her power by which all powers abound.
Praisd be her nymphs with whom she decks the woods,
Praisd be her knights in whom true honour lives;
Praisd be that force by ... | Praisd be Dianas Fair and Harmless Light | Renaissance | Nature |
ORLANDO GIBBONS | The silver swan, who living had no note,
When death approached, unlocked her silent throat;
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more:
Farewell, all joys; Oh death, come close mine eyes;
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise. | The Silver Swan | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As mans ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
... | Song: Blow, blow, thou winter wind | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he:
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo! O, word of fear,
Unp... | Song: When daisies pied and violets blue | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came to mans estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.
... | Song: When that I was and a little tiny boy (With hey, ho, the wind and the rain) | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beautys rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory;
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feedst thy lights flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself th... | Sonnet 1: From fairest creatures we desire increase | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summers lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or n... | Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summers day? | Renaissance | Nature |
THOMAS NASHE | Spring, the sweet spring, is the years pleasant king,
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds t... | Spring, the sweet spring | Renaissance | Nature |
QUEEN ELIZABETH I | When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.
Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.
But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:
Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more.
How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe,
How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show,
But I the ... | When I Was Fair and Young | Renaissance | Nature |
QUEEN ELIZABETH I | No crooked leg, no bleared eye,
No part deformed out of kind,
Nor yet so ugly half can be
As is the inward suspicious mind. | Written in her French Psalter | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Twice or thrice had I lov'd thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame
Angels affect us oft, and worshipp'd be;
Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Some lovely glorious nothing I did see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Takes limbs of flesh, and els... | Air and Angels | Renaissance | Nature |
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY | With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What, may it be that even in heav'nly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries!
Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,
I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace... | Astrophil and Stella 31: With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies | Renaissance | Nature |
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY | When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes,
In colour black why wrapt she beams so bright?
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre, mix'd of shades and light?
Or did she else that sober hue devise,
In object best to knit and strength our sight;
Lest, if no veil these brave gleams d... | Astrophil and Stella 7: When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.
There will the river whispering run
Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun;
And there the 'enamour'd fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.
When thou ... | The Bait | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Our storm is past, and that storm's tyrannous rage,
A stupid calm, but nothing it, doth 'suage.
The fable is inverted, and far more
A block afflicts, now, than a stork before.
Storms chafe, and soon wear out themselves, or us;
In calms, Heaven laughs to see us languish thus.
As steady'as I can wish that my though... | The Calm | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Where, like a pillow on a bed
A pregnant bank swell'd up to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.
Our hands were firmly cemented
With a fast balm, which thence did spring;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string;
So to... | The Ecstasy | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face.
Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape,
This doth but counsel, yet you cannot scape.
If 'twere a shame to love, here 'twere no shame;
Affection here takes reverence's name.
Were her first years th... | Elegy IX: The Autumnal | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Here take my picture; though I bid farewell
Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell.
'Tis like me now, but I dead, 'twill be more
When we are shadows both, than 'twas before.
When weather-beaten I come back, my hand
Perhaps with rude oars torn, or sun beams tann'd,
My face and breast of haircloth, a... | Elegy V: His Picture | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste,
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
Despair behind, and death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feebled flesh doth waste
By sin in it, ... | Holy Sonnets: Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Since I am coming to that holy room,
Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,
I shall be made thy music; as I come
I tune the instrument here at the door,
And what I must do then, think here before.
Whilst my physicians by their love are grown
Cosmographers, and I their ... | Hymn to God, My God, in My Sickness | Renaissance | Nature |
SIR THOMAS WYATT | My galley, charged with forgetfulness,
Thorough sharp seas in winter nights doth pass
'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine en'my, alas,
That is my lord, steereth with cruelness;
And every owre a thought in readiness,
As though that death were light in such a case.
An endless wind doth tear the sail apace
Of forced... | My Galley, Charged with Forgetfulness | Renaissance | Nature |
SIR THOMAS WYATT | My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That, for because her livelood was but thin,
Would needs go seek her townish sister's house.
She thought herself endured too much pain;
The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse
That when the furrows swimmed with t... | Of the Mean and Sure Estate | Renaissance | Nature |
JOHN DONNE | Forget this rotten world, and unto thee
Let thine own times as an old story be.
Be not concern'd; study not why, nor when;
Do not so much as not believe a man.
For though to err, be worst, to try truths forth
Is far more business than this world is worth.
I'he world is but a carcass; thou art fed
By it, but as a... | Of the Progress of the Soul: The Second Anniversary | Renaissance | Nature |
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE | Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the Rocks,
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow Rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
And I will make thee beds... | The Passionate Shepherd to His Love | Renaissance | Nature |
EDMUND SPENSER | CALM was the day, and through the trembling air
Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play,
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair;
When I whose sullen care,
Through discontent of my long fruitless stay
In prince's court, and expectation vain
Of idle hopes, which sti... | Prothalamion | Renaissance | Nature |
EDMUND SPENSER | THENOT & HOBBINOLL
Tell me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete?
What? hath some Wolfe thy tender Lambes ytorne?
Or is thy Bagpype broke, that soundes so sweete?
Or art thou of thy loved lasse forlorne?
Or bene thine eyes attempred to the yeare,
Quenching the gasping furrowes thirst with rayne?
Like... | from The Shepheardes Calender: April | Renaissance | Nature |
EDMUND SPENSER | PIERCE & CUDDIE
Cuddie, for shame hold up thy heavye head,
And let us cast with what delight to chace,
And weary thys long lingring Phoebus race.
Whilome thou wont the shepheards laddes to leade,
In rymes, in ridles, and in bydding base:
Now they in thee, and thou in sleepe art dead.
CUDDY
Piers... | from The Shepheardes Calender: October | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them,ding-do... | Song: Full fathom five thy father lies | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise. | Song: Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Notes:
Macbeth: IV.i 10-19; 35-38 | Song of the Witches: Double, double toil and trouble | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In swee... | Song: Orpheus with his lute made trees | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And... | Song: Under the greenwood tree | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to ... | Sonnet 33: Full many a glorious morning have I seen | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
De... | Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time remov'd was summer's time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
Like wid... | Sonnet 97: How like a winter hath my absence been | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
[......] these rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy cha... | Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, | Renaissance | Nature |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds oertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heal... | Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day | Renaissance | Love |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Weret aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which proves more short than waste or ruining;
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent,
For compound sweet forgoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers, in thei... | Sonnet 125: Weret aught to me I bore the canopy | Renaissance | Love |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Let the bird of loudest lay
On the sole Arabian tree
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.
From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, fe... | The Phoenix and the Turtle | Renaissance | Love |
GEORGE GASCOIGNE | Sing lullaby, as women do,
Wherewith they bring their babes to rest,
And lullaby can I sing too
As womanly as can the best.
With lullaby they still the child,
And if I be not much beguiled,
Full many wanton babes have I
Which must be stilled with lullaby.
First lullaby my youthful years;
It is now ... | The Lullaby of a Lover | Renaissance | Love |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me:
Ist not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweetst friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next self thou harder hast engrossed;
Of him, myself, and thee I am forsaken,
A tormen... | Sonnet 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan | Renaissance | Love |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | O, call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue;
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lovst elsewhere; but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside;
What needst thou wound with cunning when thy migh... | Sonnet 139: O, call not me to justify the wrong | Renaissance | Love |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.
O, but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Rob... | Sonnet 142: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate | Renaissance | Love |
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE | My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which phy... | Sonnet 147: My love is as a fever, longing still | Renaissance | Love |
DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE MARGARET CAVENDISH | A Poet am I neither born nor bred,
But to a witty poet married:
Whose brain is fresh and pleasant as the Spring,
Where Fancies grow and where the Muses sing.
There oft I lean my head, and listening, hark,
To catch his words and all his fancies mark:
And from that garden show of beauties take
Whereof a posy I in ... | The Duchess to Her Readers | Renaissance | Love |
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY | Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe,
Studying inventions fine, her wits to enter... | Sonnet 1 | Renaissance | Love |
THOMAS BASTARD | Misus and Mopsa hardly could agree,
Striving about superiority.
The text which says that man and wife are one,
Was the chief argument they stood upon.
She held they both one woman should become,
He held both should be man, and both but one.
So they contended daily, but the strife
Could not be ended, t... | Book 5, Epigram 20: In Misum & Mopsam. | Renaissance | Love |
EDMUND SPENSER | Joy of my life, full oft for loving you
I bless my lot, that was so lucky placed:
But then the more your own mishap I rue,
That are so much by so mean love embased.
For had the equal heavens so much you graced
In this as in the rest, ye might invent
Some heavenly wit, whose verse could have en... | ['Joy of my life, full oft for loving you'] | Renaissance | Love |
LADY MARY WROTH | Sweet shades why doe you seeke to give delight
To mee who deeme delight in this vilde place
Butt torment, sorrow, and mine owne disgrace
To taste of joy, or your vaine pleasing sight;
Show them your pleasures who saw never night
Of greife, wher joyings fauning, smiling face
Appeers as day, w... | from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 17 | Renaissance | Love |
LADY MARY WROTH | Come darkest night, becoming sorrow best;
Light; leave thy light; fitt for a lightsome soule;
Darknes doth truly sure with mee oprest
Whom absence power doth from mirthe controle:
The very trees with hanging heads condole
Sweet sommers parting, and of leaves distrest
In dying coulers make a ... | from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 19 | Renaissance | Love |
LADY MARY WROTH | Love like a jugler, comes to play his prise,
And all minds draw his wonders to admire,
To see how cuningly hee, wanting eyes,
Can yett deseave the best sight of desire:
The wanton child, how hee can faine his fire
So pretely, as none sees his disguise!
How finely doe his tricks, while wee f... | from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 2 | Renaissance | Love |
LADY MARY WROTH | Time only cause of my unrest
By whom I hopd once to bee blest
How cruell art thou turned?
That first gavst lyfe unto my love,
And still a pleasure nott to move
Or change though ever burned;
Have I thee slackd, or left undun
One loving rite, and soe have wunn
Thy rage or bitter changing?
That now ... | from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: Song 5 | Renaissance | Love |
LADY MARY WROTH | Love peruse me, seeke, and finde
How each corner of my minde
Is a twine
Woven to shine.
Not a Webb ill made, foule framd,
Bastard not by Father namd,
Such in me
Cannot bee.
Deare behold me, you shall see
Faith the Hive, and love the Bee,
Which doe br... | from The Countesse of Montgomerys Urania: Love peruse me, seeke, and finde | Renaissance | Love |
LADY MARY WROTH | When I beeheld the Image of my deere
With greedy lookes mine eyes would that way bend,
Fear, and desire did inwardly contend;
Feare to bee markd, desire to drawe still neere,
And in my soule a speritt wowld apeer,
Which boldnes waranted, and did pretend
To bee my genius, yett I durst nott le... | from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 4 | Renaissance | Love |
LADY MARY WROTH | Love leave to urge, thou knowst thou hast the hand;
Tis cowardise, to strive wher none resist:
Pray thee leave off, I yeeld unto thy band;
Doe nott thus, still, in thine owne powre persist,
Beehold I yeeld: lett forces bee dismist;
I ame thy subject, conquerd, bound to stand,
Never thy foe, ... | from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus: 7 | Renaissance | Love |
RICHARD BARNFIELD | Long have I longd to see my love againe,
Still have I wisht, but never could obtaine it;
Rather than all the world (if I might gaine it)
Would I desire my loves sweet precious gaine.
Yet in my soule I see him everie day,
See him, and see his still sterne countenaunce,
But (ah) what is of long continuance,
Where ... | Sonnet 16 | Renaissance | Love |
RICHARD BARNFIELD | Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape,
Might not compare with his pure ivorie white,
On whose faire front a poets pen may write,
Whose roseate red excels the crimson grape,
His love-enticing delicate soft limbs,
Are rarely framd tintrap poore gazine eies:
His cheeks, the lillie and carnation dies... | Sonnet 17 | Renaissance | Love |
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Dataset Card for poetry
Dataset Summary
It contains poems from subjects: Love, Nature and Mythology & Folklore that belong to two periods namely Renaissance and Modern
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Dataset Structure
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Data Fields
Has 5 columns:
- Content
- Author
- Poem name
- Age
- Type
Data Splits
Only training set
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Source Data
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annotations_creators: - found language_creators: - found language: - en license: - unknown multilinguality: - monolingual pretty_name: poetry size_categories: - unknown source_datasets: - original task_categories: - text-classification task_ids: []
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