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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O ha sh nt bn fair an thus unkin, Thn ha n fingr pint at my lightnss; Th wrl ha nvr knwn what I fin, An lus bsur ha sha still hr brightnss…
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Whilst yuth an rrr l my wan'ring min An st my thughts in hlss ways t rang, All unawars a gs hast I fin, Diana-lik, t wrk my sun hang Fr hr n snr ha my viw bwray',…
Sonnet XIII Behold What Hap
Bhl what hap Pygmalin ha t fram An arv his prpr grif upn a stn; My havy frtun is muh lik th sam: I wrk n flint, an that's th aus I man Fr haplss, l, v'n with min wn sirs,…
Sonnet XXVIII Reign In My Thoughts
Rign in my thughts, fair han, swt y, rar vi: Pssss m whl, my hart's triumvirat; Yt havy hart t mak s har a hi, Of suh as spil thy pr afflit stat…
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