Envoi
Go, dumb-born book,
Tell her that sang me once that song of Lawes:
Hadst thou but song
. . .
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Envy
This rose-tree is not made to bear
The violet blue, nor lily fair,
Nor the sweet mignionet: . . .
Epilogue
At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time,
When you set your fancies free,
Will they pass to where—by death, fools think, imprisoned—
. . .
Epilogue
Those blessèd structures, plot and rhyme—
why are they no help to me now
I want to make . . .
Epistle to Mrs. Tyler
It ever was allow’d, dear Madam,
Ev’n from the days of father Adam,
Of all perfection flesh is heir to, . . .
Epitaph
What on Earth deserves our trust?
Youth and Beauty both are dust.
Long we gathering are with pain,
. . .
Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villiers
This little vault, this narrow room,
Of Love, and Beauty, is the tomb;
The dawning beam that gan to clear . . .
Epitaph on the Tombstone of a Child, the Last of Seven that Died Before
This Little, Silent, Gloomy Monument,
Contains all that was sweet and innocent ; . . .
Equus Caballus
I have run on middle fingernail through Eolithic morning,
I have thundered down the coach road with the Revolution’s warning.
I have carried countless errant knights who never found the grail. . . .
Eros Turannos
She fears him, and will always ask
What fated her to choose him;
She meets in his engaging mask . . .
