Poems by Benjamin Jonson
A Sonnet, to the Noble Lady, the Lady Mary Wroth
... whereof some But charm the senses, others overcome ...
To Heaven
... I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground ...
To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of That Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Morison
... s schism (Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry) ...
My Picture Left in Scotland
... And all these through her eyes have stopp'd her ears ...
To Penshurst
... Didst thou then make em! and what praise was heaped ...
Ode to Himself
... s fire; And though thy nerves be shrunk, and blood be cold, ...
Slow, Slow, Fresh Fount
... Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears ...
Though I Am Young and Cannot Tell
... Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold ...
On Playwright
... Playwright, convict of public wrongs to men, ...
An Ode to Himself
... To see their seats and bowers by chatt'ring pies defac'd ...
On My First Daughter
... s tears, Hath placed amongst her virgin-train: ...
To Sir Henry Cary
... To live when Broick not stands, nor Ruhr doth run ...
On Spies
... Spies, you are lights in state, but of base stuff, ...
Have You Seen But A Bright Lily Grow
... O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she! ...
Inviting a Friend to Supper
... I’ll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come: ...
