William Strode

(1602 - 1644 / England)

William Strode Poems

1. Kisses 5/9/2011
2. On A Gentlewoman That Had Had The Small Poxe 5/9/2011
3. On A Dissembler 1/1/2004
4. On The Death Of Ladie Caesar 1/1/2004
5. On The Death Of Mrs. Mary Neudham 1/1/2004
6. To A Gentlewoman For A Friend 1/1/2004
7. Jacke-On-Both-Sides 1/1/2004
8. Of Death & Resurrection 1/1/2004
9. On The Death Of Sir Tho: Peltham 1/1/2004
10. Upon The Blush Of A Faire Ladie 1/1/2004
11. With Penne, Inke, And Paper To A Distressed Friend 1/1/2004
12. On The Death Of A Twin 1/1/2004
13. On The Yong Baronett Portman Dying Of An Impostume In's Head 1/1/2004
14. On A Register For A Bible 1/1/2004
15. On His Lady Denys 1/1/2004
16. Keepe On Your Maske (Version For His Mistress) 1/1/2004
17. On His Lady Marie 1/1/2004
18. Love Compared To A Game Of Tables 1/1/2004
19. On The Death Of The Right Honourable The Lord Viscount Bayning 1/1/2004
20. On John Dawson, Butler Of C.C. 1/1/2004
21. On A Gentlewoman's Blistred Lipp 1/1/2004
22. On The Bible 1/1/2004
23. On A Good Legg And Foot 5/9/2011
24. On A Watch Made By A Blacksmith 1/1/2004
25. On Jealousy 1/1/2004
26. On A Gentlewoman That Sung And Play'D Upon A Lute 1/1/2004
27. Melancholly 1/1/2004
28. On A Gentlewoman's Watch That Wanted A Key 1/1/2004
29. On Fayrford Windowes 1/1/2004
30. On A Friends Absence 1/1/2004
31. Upon The Sherrifs Beere 1/1/2004
32. The Chimney-Sweeper's Song 1/1/2004
33. To A Valentine 1/1/2004
34. Justification 1/1/2004
35. On The Death Of Mistress Mary Prideaux 1/1/2004
36. On A Great Hollow Tree 1/1/2004
37. On Chloris Walking In The Snow 1/1/2004
38. Remembrances Of The Renowned Knight, Sir Rowland Cotton, Of Bellaport In Shropshire, Concerning 1/1/2004
39. On The Death Of Mr. James Van Otton 1/1/2004
40. On The Death Of Sir Thomas Lea 1/1/2004

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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

A Purse-String

We hugg, imprison, hang, and save,
This foe, this friend, our Lord, our slave.

While thus I hang, you threatned see
The fate of him that stealeth mee.

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