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Sir Edward Dyer
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Sir Edward Dyer poems, quotations and biography on Sir Edward Dyer poet page. Read all poems of Sir Edward Dyer and infos about Sir Edward Dyer.
English courtier and poet, son of Sir Thomas Dyer, Kt., was born at Sharpham Park, Somersetshire. He was educated, according to Anthony ~ Wood, either at Balliol College or at Broadgates Hall, Oxford. He left the university without taking a degree, and after some time spent abroad appeared at Queen. Elizabeth’s court. His first patron was the earl of Leicester, who seems to have thought of putting... more »
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Sir Edward Dyer Poems
My Mind To Me A Kingdom Is
My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find
That it excels all other bliss
Which God or nature hath assign'd.... more »
The Lowest Trees Have Tops
The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall,
The fly her spleen, the little spark his heat,
And slender hairs cast shadows though but small,
And bees have stings although they be not great.... more »
I Would And I Would Not
I woulde it were not as it is
Or that I cared not yea or no;
I woulde I thoughte it not amiss,
Or that amiss mighte blamles goo;... more »
The Man Of Woe
The mann whose thoughtes agaynste him do conspyre,
One whom Mishapp her storye dothe depaynt,
The mann of woe, the matter of desier,
Free of the dead, that lives in endles plaint,... more »
A Fancy
Hee that his mirth hath loste,
Whose comfort is dismaid,
Whose hope is vaine, whose faith is scorned,
Whose trust is all betraid,... more »
Love-Despondency
Devyde my tymes and rate my wretched howres
From days to months, fro months to many yeers,
And than compare my sweetest to my sowres then
And see wich more in equall vewe appeares;... more »
The Shepherd's Conceit Of Prometheus
Prometheus when firste frome heaven hye
He broughte downe fyre, 'ere then on earthe not seene,
Fond of Delight, a Satyre standing bye
Gaue it a kyss, as it lyke Sweete had bene.... more »
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Comments about Sir Edward Dyer
A Fancy
Hee that his mirth hath loste,
Whose comfort is dismaid,
Whose hope is vaine, whose faith is scorned,
Whose trust is all betraid,
If he have held them deare,
And cannot cease to moane,
Come, let him take his place by me;
He shall not rue alone.
But if the smalest sweete
Be mixt with all his sowre;
If in the day, the moneth, the yeare,
He finde one lightsome hower,
Then rest he by himself;
He is noe mate for me,
Whose hope is falen, whose succor voyde,
Whose hart his death must be.
Yet not the wishèd ...
Is this where Danny Dyer of Eastenders gets his acting ability from? 😜😜