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Edmund Waller
Quote #15
The yielding marble of her snowy breast.
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There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow: Th…
That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which on the shaft that made him die Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made; Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become…
A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair; Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the rest the sun…
Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot.
For all we know Of what the blessed do above Is, that they sing, and that they love.
The Muses' friend, Tea, does our fancy aid, Repress the vapours which the head invade, ? And keeps the palace of the soul serene.
Under the tropic is our language spoke, And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.
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