John Wilbye

(7 March 1574 - September 1638 / Brome, Suffolk)

John Wilbye Poems

1. A Silly Sylvan, Kissing Heav'N-Born Fire 5/31/2012
2. Alas! What A Wretched Life Is This! 5/31/2012
3. All Pleasure Is Of This Condition 5/31/2012
4. And Though My Love Abounding 5/31/2012
5. Ay Me; Can Every Rumour 5/31/2012
6. Change Me, O Heav'Ns 5/31/2012
7. Dear Pity, How, Ah! 5/31/2012
8. Die, Hapless Man 5/31/2012
9. Down In A Valley As Alexis Trips 5/31/2012
10. Happy Streams, Whose Trembling Fall 5/31/2012
11. O Fools! Can You Not See 5/31/2012
12. O God, The Rock Of My Whole Strength 5/31/2012
13. O, What Shall I Do 5/31/2012
14. O Wretched Man! 5/31/2012
15. Of Joys And Pleasing Pains 5/31/2012
16. So Light Is Love 5/31/2012
17. Oft Have I Vow'D 5/31/2012
18. Softly, O! Dropp Mine Eyes 5/31/2012
19. Stay, Corydon, Thou Swain 5/31/2012
20. I Always Beg 5/31/2012
21. I Am Quite Tired With My Groans 5/31/2012
22. I Fall, I Fall 5/31/2012
23. I Live, And Yet Methinks I Do Not Breathe 5/31/2012
24. I Love, Alas! Yet Am Not Loved 5/31/2012
25. I Sung Sometimes 5/31/2012
26. Sweet Love, If Thou Wilt Gain 5/31/2012
27. The Lady Oriana 5/31/2012
28. There Is A Jewel 5/31/2012
29. There, Where I Saw Her Lovely Beauty Painted 5/31/2012
30. Thou Art But Young, Thou Say’st 5/31/2012
31. Thus Love Commands 5/31/2012
32. Unkind, O, Stay Thy Flying! 5/31/2012
33. Weep, O Mine Eyes 5/31/2012
34. What Needeth All This Travail? 5/31/2012
35. When Cloris Heard 5/31/2012
36. When Shall My Wretched Life 5/31/2012
37. Where Most My Thoughts 5/31/2012
38. Ye Restless Thoughts 5/31/2012
39. Ye That Do Live In Pleasures 5/31/2012
40. Yet, Sweet, Take Heed 5/31/2012
Best Poem of John Wilbye

Love Not Me For Comely Grace

Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face;
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart:
For those may fail or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever.
Keep therefore a true woman's eye,
And love me still, but know not why;
So hast thou the same reason still
To doat upon me ever.

Read the full of Love Not Me For Comely Grace

As Matchless Beauty

As matchless beauty thee a Phoenix proves,
Fair Leonilla, so thy sour-sweet loves.
For when young Acon's eye thy proud heart tames,
Thou diest in him, and livest in my flames.

[Hata Bildir]