William Strode

(1602 - 1644 / England)

William Strode Poems

1. A Girdle 1/1/2004
2. A Lover To His Mistress 1/1/2004
3. A Necklace 1/1/2004
4. A New Year's Gift 1/1/2004
5. A Paralell Between Bowling And Preferment 1/1/2004
6. A Purse-String 1/1/2004
7. A Riddle: On A Kiss 1/1/2004
8. A Song On A Sigh 1/1/2004
9. A Song On The Baths 1/1/2004
10. A Strange Gentlewoman Passing By His Window 1/1/2004
11. A Superscription On Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, Sent For A Token 1/1/2004
12. A Translation Of The Nightingale Out Of Strada 1/1/2004
13. A Watch Sent Home To Mrs. Eliz: King, Wrapt In Theis Verses 1/1/2004
14. A Watch-String 1/1/2004
15. An Antheme 1/1/2004
16. An Eare-Stringe 1/1/2004
17. An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor 1/1/2004
18. An Epitaph On Sr John Walter, Lord Cheife Baron 1/1/2004
19. Anthem For Good Fryday 1/1/2004
20. Chloris In The Snow 1/4/2003
21. Consolatorium, Ad Parentes 1/1/2004
22. Epitaph On Mr. Bridgeman 1/1/2004
23. For A Gentleman, Who, Kissinge His Friend At His Departure Left A Signe Of Blood On Her 1/1/2004
24. Her Epitaph 1/1/2004
25. In Commendation Of Musick 1/1/2004
26. Jacke-On-Both-Sides 1/1/2004
27. Justification 1/1/2004
28. Keepe On Your Maske (Version For His Mistress) 1/1/2004
29. Keepe On Your Maske And Hide Your Eye 1/1/2004
30. Kisses 5/9/2011
31. Love Compared To A Game Of Tables 1/1/2004
32. Melancholly 1/1/2004
33. Of Death & Resurrection 1/1/2004
34. On A Dissembler 1/1/2004
35. On A Friends Absence 1/1/2004
36. On A Gentlewoman That Had Had The Small Poxe 5/9/2011
37. On A Gentlewoman That Sung And Play'D Upon A Lute 1/1/2004
38. On A Gentlewoman's Blistred Lipp 1/1/2004
39. On A Gentlewoman's Watch That Wanted A Key 1/1/2004
40. On A Good Legg And Foot 5/9/2011
Best Poem of William Strode

A Riddle: On A Kiss

What thing is that, nor felt nor seene
Till it bee given? a present for a Queene:
A fine conceite to give and take the like:
The giver yet is farther for to seeke;
The taker doth possesse nothing the more,
The giver hee hath nothing lesse in store:
And given once that nature hath it still,
You cannot keepe or leave it if you will:
The workmanshippe is counted very small,
The labour is esteemed naught at all:
But to conclude, this gift is such indeede,
That, if some see't 'twill make theyr hearts to bleede

Read the full of A Riddle: On A Kiss

Her Epitaph

Happy Grave, thou dost enshrine
That which makes thee a rich mine:
Remember yet, 'tis but a loane;
And wee must have it back, Her owne,
The very same; Marke mee, the same:
Thou canst not cheat us with a lame
Deformed Carcase; Shee was fayre,
Fresh as Morning, sweete as Ayre:
Purer than other flesh as farre

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