Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using. Why so? More we enjoy it, more it dies; If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries— Heigh ho! Love is a torment of the mind, A tempest everlasting; And Jove hath made it of a kind Not well, nor full nor fasting. Why so? More we enjoy it, more it dies; If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries— Heigh ho!
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Samuel Daniel
Samuel Daniel (1562 – 14 October 1619) was an English poet and historian. His work and particularly the format he adopted for sonnets, was refer…
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As t th Rman that wul fr his lan, His rrr was his hnr an rnwn An mr th fam f his mistaking han Than if h ha th tyrant vrthrwn, S, Dlia, hath min rrr ma m knwn,…
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Ths ambr lks ar ths sam nts, my ar, Whrwith my librty thu ist surpris; Lv was th flam that fir m s nar; Th art transpiring wr ths rystal ys…
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An yt I annt rprhn th flight, Or blam th'attmpt prsuming s t sar; Th munting vntur fr a high light Di mak th hnr f th fall th mr Fr wh gts walth that puts nt frm th shr…
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