A Book of old English love songs . True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field;And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore;I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more. — Richard Lovelace.[Ho] C^e (Bra&tyoppet;. H, thou that swingst upon the wavingearOf some well-filled oaten beard,Drunk every night with some de-licious tearDropt thee from heaven where thouwert reared: The joys of earth and air are thine en-tire,That with thy feet and wings dost hopand fly,And when thy poppy works, thou dost
A Book of old English love songs . True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field;And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore;I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more. — Richard Lovelace.[Ho] C^e (Bra&tyoppet;. H, thou that swingst upon the wavingearOf some well-filled oaten beard,Drunk every night with some de-licious tearDropt thee from heaven where thouwert reared: The joys of earth and air are thine en-tire,That with thy feet and wings dost hopand fly,And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire,To thy carved acorn-bed to lie. Up with the day, the Sun thou welcomst then,Sportst in the gilt plaits of his beams, And all these merry days makst merry men,Thyself, and melancholy streams.[Hi] But ah, the sickle! golden ears are cropped ; Ceres and Bacchus bid good night;Sharp frosty fingers all your flowers havetopped, And what scythes spared, winds shave off quite. — Richard Lovelace.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1897
