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bear beſt better bleſſed blood breaſt breath bring Church dead dear death delight doft door doth duſt earth ev'n ev'ry eyes face fall fear firſt fleſh foul fruit gain give glory God's grace grief ground grow hand hath head hear heart heav'n HERBERT himſelf holy hope hour houſe keep King leave leſs light live look Lord mean mind moſt move muſic muſt never night once pleaſure poor praiſe preſent reſt rich ſay ſee ſeek ſerve ſet ſhall ſhe ſhew ſhould ſin ſince ſome ſoul ſtars ſtill ſuch ſweet tears tell thee theſe thine things thoſe thou art thou doſt thou haſt thoughts thyſelf took true turn unto uſe whoſe wilt wind
Página 97 - LIFE. I MADE a posy, while the day ran by : Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band.
Página xix - ... and competent maintenance. - So that now if they do not well, the fault cannot be charged on you, whose example and care of them will justify you both to the world and your own conscience...
Página 90 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Página 59 - O let me, when thy roof my soul hath hid, O let me roost and nestle there : Then of a sinner thou art rid, And I of hope and fear. Yet take thy way ; for sure thy way is best : Stretch or contract me thy poor debtor : This is but tuning of my breast, To make the music better.
Página 13 - THOU, whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure, Hearken unto a Verser, who may chance Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure : A verse may find him, who a Sermon flies, And turn delight into a Sacrifice.
Página 132 - Not, that he may not here Taste of the cheer : But as birds drink, and straight lift up their head ; So must he sip, and think Of better drink He may attain to, after he is dead.
Página 144 - Just as I went, None goes that way And lives. If that be all, said I, After so foul a journey death is fair, And but a chair.
Página 78 - Christ hath took in this piece of ground, And made a garden there for those Who want herbs for their wound.