John Wilbye Beauty Poems

  • 1.
    Oft have I vow'd how dearly I did love thee,
    And oft observ'd thee with all willing duty,
    Sighs I have sent, still hoping to remove thee:
    Millions of tears I tender'd to thy beauty,
    ...
  • 2.
    Fly not so swift, my dear, behold me dying,
    If not a smiling glance for all my crying,
    Yet kill me with thy frowns.
    The Satyrs o'er the lawns full nimbly dancing,
    ...
  • 3.
    O, what shall I do, or whither shall I turn me?
    Shall I make unto her eyes? O, no, they'll burn me!
    Shall I seal up my eyes and speak my part?
    Then in a flood of tears I drown my heart,
    ...
  • 4.
    Hard destinies are love and beauty parted,
    Fair Daphne so disdainful!
    Cupid, thy shafts are too unjustly darted;
    Fond love, thy wounds are painful:
    ...
  • 5.
    So light is love, in matchless beauty shining,
    When she revisits Cypris' hallow'd bowers,
    Two feeble doves, harness'd in silken twining,
    Can draw her chariot 'midst the Paphian flowers.
    ...
  • 6.
    There, where I saw her lovely beauty painted,
    Where, Venus-like, my sacred goddess shineth,
    There, with *precellent object mine eyes fainted,
    That fair, but fatal star, my dole divineth.
    ...
  • 7.
    Dear pity, how, ah! how, wouldst thou become her!
    That best becometh beauty's best attiring;
    Shall my desert deserve no favour from her?
    But still to waste myself in deep adminring,
    ...
  • 8.
    As matchless beauty thee a Phoenix proves,
    Fair Leonilla, so thy sour-sweet loves.
    For when young Acon's eye thy proud heart tames,
    Thou diest in him, and livest in my flames.
    ...
Total 8 Beauty Poems by John Wilbye

Top 10 most used topics by John Wilbye

Love 30 I Love You 30 Heart 20 Sweet 20 Life 15 Never 10 Death 9 Beauty 8 Hope 8 Grief 6

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Melville And Coghill - The Place Of The Little Hand
 by Andrew Lang

DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.

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