CCURST be love, and they that trust his trains
Ah Chloris ! that I now could sit
Ah ! County Guy, the hour is nigh
Ah, my dear angry Lord
A ho! A ho !
Ah ! were she pitiful as she is fair
A little saint best fits a little shrine
All ye woods, and trees, and bowers
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers
As I in hoary winter's night
As it fell upon a day
Ask me no more where Jove bestows.
Ask not the cause why sullen Spring .
A slumber did my spirit seal
shaft did I behold
As virtuous men pass mildly away
Away, delights, go seek some other dwelling
Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon
A weary lot is thine, fair maid .
Before my face the picture hangs
Behold her single in the field
Beyond the sea, beyond the sea .
Bid me to live, and I will live
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear
Bright be the place of thy soul