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George Wither
1588 - 1667
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A Poet's Home
Two pretty rills do meet, and meeting make / Within one valley a large silver lake: / About whose banks the fertile mountains stood
A Rocking Hymn
Sweet baby, sleep! what ails my dear, / What ails my darling thus to cry? / Be still, my child, and lend thine ear
Amarillis I Did Woo
Amarillis I did woo, / And I courted Phillis too; / Daphne, for her love, I chose;
From a Satire written to King James I
Did I not know a great man's power and might / In spite of innocence can smother right, / Colour his villainies to get esteem,
Her Beauty
Her true beauty leaves behind / Apprehensions in my mind / Of more sweetness than all art
Prelude From
Seest thou not, in clearest days, / Oft thick fogs cloud Heaven's rays? / And that vapours which do breathe
Rhomboidal Dirge
Ah me! / Am I the swain / That late from sorrow free
Sonnet: On A Stolen Kiss
Now gentle sleep hath closèd up those eyes, / Which waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe, / And free access unto that sweet lip lies
Sonnet: On the Death of Prince Henry
Methought his royal person did foretell / A kingly stateliness, from all pride clear; / His look majestic seemèd to compel
The Marigold
When with a serious musing I behold / The grateful and obsequious marigold, / How duly every morning she displays
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