Thomas Campion Sweet Poems

  • 1.
    Give Beauty all her right,
    She's not to one form tied;
    Each shape yields fair delight,
    Where her perfections bide:
    ...
  • 2.
    FOLLOW your saint, follow with accents sweet!
    Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet!
    There, wrapt in cloud of sorrow, pity move,
    And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love:
    ...
  • 3.
    WHEN thou must home to shades of underground,
    And there arrived, a new admired guest,
    The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
    White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,
    ...
  • 4.
    My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love,
    And though the sager sort our deeds reprove,
    Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive
    Into their west, and straight again revive,
    ...
  • 5.
    Kind are her answers,
    But her performance keeps no day;
    Breaks time, as dancers
    From their own music when they stray.
    ...
  • 6.
    Of Neptune's empire let us sing,
    At whose command the waves obey;
    To whom the rivers tribute pay,
    Down the high mountains sliding:
    ...
  • 7.
    When thou must home to shades of underground,
    And there arriv'd, a new admired guest,
    The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
    White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,
    ...
  • 8.
    Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet;
    Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet.
    There, wrapp'd in cloud of sorrow, pity move,
    And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love:
    ...
Total 8 Sweet Poems by Thomas Campion

Top 10 most used topics by Thomas Campion

I Love You 15 Love 15 Beauty 13 Sweet 8 Heaven 7 Music 7 Heart 7 Delight 6 Time 6 White 6

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Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
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