Henry King was an English poet and bishop.
The eldest son of John King, Bishop of London, and his wife Joan Freeman, he was baptised at Worminghall, Buckinghamshire, 16 January 1592. He was educated at Lord Williams's School, Westminster School and in 1608 became a student of Christ Church, Oxford. With his brother John King he matriculated 20 January 1609, and was admitted (19 June 1611 and 7 July 1614) to the degrees of bachelor and master of arts. On 24 January 1616 he was collated to the prebend of St. Pancras in St. Paul's Cathedral, receiving at the same time the office of penitentiary or confessor in the cathedral, together with the rectory and patronage of... more »
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Henry King Poems
A Contemplation upon Flowers
BRAVE flowers--that I could gallant it like you, And be as little vain! You come abroad, and make a harmless show, And to your beds of earth again.
1 Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint, 2 Instead of dirges, this complaint; 3 And for sweet flow'rs to crown thy hearse, 4 From thy griev'd friend, whom thou might'st see
Exequy on his Wife
ACCEPT, thou shrine of my dead saint, Instead of dirges this complaint; And for sweet flowers to crown thy herse Receive a strew of weeping verse
WE, that did nothing study but the way To love each other, with which thoughts the day Rose with delight to us and with them set, Must learn the hateful art, how to forget.
Like to the falling of a star, Or as the flights of eagles are, Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
AN ELEGY Upon the most victorious King o...
Like a cold fatal sweat which ushers death My thoughts hang on me, & my lab'ring breath Stopt up with sighs, my fancie big with woes,
AN ELEGY Upon S. W. R.
I will not weep, for 'twere as great a sin To shed a tear for thee, as to have bin An Actor in thy death. Thy life and age
An Epitaph on Niobe turned to Stone
This Pile thou seest built out of Flesh, not Stone, Contains no shroud within, nor mouldring bone: This bloodless Trunk is destitute of Tombe
Being waked out of my sleep by a snuff o...
Perhaps 'twas but conceit. Erroneous sence! Thou art thine own distemper and offence. Imagine then, that sick unwholsom steam
AN ELEGY Upon Mrs. Kirk unfortunately dr...
For all the Ship-wracks, and the liquid graves Lost men have gain'd within the furrow'd waves, The Sea hath fin'd and for our wrongs paid use,
My Midnight Meditation
Ill busi'd man! why should'st thou take such care To lengthen out thy life's short calendar? When ev'ry spectacle thou lookst upon
Another of the same, paraphrased for an ...
Out of the horrour of the lowest Deep, Where cares & endlesse fears their station keep, To thee (O Lord) I send my woful cry:
AThe Anniverse. AN ELEGY.
So soon grown old! hast thou been six years dead? Poor earth, once by my Love inhabited! And must I live to calculate the time
Fond Lunatick forbear, why do'st thou sue For thy affections pay e're it is due? Loves fruits are legal use; and therefore may
Comments about Henry King
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
A Contemplation upon Flowers
BRAVE flowers--that I could gallant it like you,
And be as little vain!
You come abroad, and make a harmless show,
And to your beds of earth again.
You are not proud: you know your birth:
For your embroider'd garments are from earth.
You do obey your months and times, but I
Would have it ever Spring:
My fate would know no Winter, never die,
Nor think of such a thing.
O that I could my bed of earth but view
And smile, and look as cheerfully as you!
O teach me to see Death and not to fear,
But rather to take truce!