Emotions and Feelings

But keep the wolf far thence, that’s foe to men, For with his nails he’ll dig them up again.

All my joys to this are folly, Naught so sweet as melancholy.

Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I’ll not look for wine. 2 The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove’s nectar sup, I would not change for thine.

Follow a shadow, it still flies you; Seem to fly it, it will pursue: So court a mistress, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you.

Nor shall our cups make any guilty men: But, at our parting, we will be, as when We innocently met.

Nor shall our cups make any guilty men: But, at our parting, we will be, as when We innocently met.

Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy! My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy.

Come my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever, He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain; Suns that set may rise again, But if once we lose this light, ’Tis with us perpetual night.

True happiness Consists not in the multitude of friends, But in the worth and choice.

Oh, I could still (Like melting snow upon some craggy hill) Drop, drop, drop, drop, Since nature’s pride is, now, a wither’d daffodil.

All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.

Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls; For, thus friends absent speak.

Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee, As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, To taste whole joys.

Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee, As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, To taste whole joys.

Ah cannot we As well as cocks and lions jocund be, After such pleasures?

I long to talk with some old lover’s ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

Our two souls therefore which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat.

Dull sublunary lovers’ love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it.

Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.

The world’s whole sap is sunk: The general balm th’ hydroptic earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the bed’s-feet, life is shrunk, Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh, Compared with me, who am their epitaph.

Send home my long strayed eyes to me, Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee.

Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, ’tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign’d deaths to die.

I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry.

For God sake hold your tongue, and let me love.