Poems by John Wilmot
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After Death nothing is, and nothing, death,
Chloe,
Much wine had passed, with grave discourse
Were I (who to my cost already am
In th' isle of Britain, long since famous grown
Ancient Person, for whom I
Love bade me hope, and I obeyed;
Love bade me hope, and I obeyed;
Absent from thee I languish still;
Tell me no more of constancy,
All my past life is mine no more,
Well Sir, 'tis granted, I said Dryden's Rhimes,
By all love's soft, yet mighty powers,
I cannot change as others do,
Here lies a great and mighty King,
Give me leave to rail at you,
God bless our good and gracious kind,
I cannot change, as others do,
All my past life is mine no more,
My dear mistress has a heart
My light thou art, without thy glorious sight
Deare Friend.
Methinks I see you, newly risen
Absent from thee, I languish still;
Were I (who to my cost already am
Were I (who to my cost already am
You ladies of merry England
Love a woman? You're an ass.
Quoth the Duchess of Cleveland to counselor Knight,
As some brave admiral, in former war,
I cannot change, as others do,
Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,
An age in her embraces passed
I could love thee till I die,
Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why
To this moment a rebel I throw down my arms,
At five this morn, when Phoebus raised his head
Vulcan, contrive me such a cup
Nothing, thou elder brother even to shade,