Henry King

(16 January 1592 – 30 September 1669 / Worminghall, Buckinghamshire)

Henry King Poems

1. The Change 4/20/2010
2. To My Honoured Friend Mr. George Sandys 4/20/2010
3. The Forlorn Hope 4/20/2010
4. Sonnet. Vvere Thy Heart Soft As Thou Art Faire 4/20/2010
5. Psalm I. 4/20/2010
6. To The Same Lady Upon Mr. Burtons Melancholy 4/20/2010
7. St. Valentines Day 4/20/2010
8. The Acquittance 4/20/2010
9. Sonnet. Go Thou That Vainly Do'st Mine Eyes Invite 4/20/2010
10. On Two Children Dying Of One Disease, And Buried In One Grave 4/20/2010
11. Upon The Kings Happy Return From Scotland 4/20/2010
12. To His Unconstant Friend 4/20/2010
13. To A Friend Upon Overbury's Wife Given To Her 4/20/2010
14. The Legacy 4/20/2010
15. To The Queen At Oxford 4/20/2010
16. The Forfeiture 4/20/2010
17. To A Lady Who Sent Me A Copy Of Verses At My Going To Bed 4/20/2010
18. Sonnet. I Prethee Turn That Face Away 4/20/2010
19. Sonnet. When I Entreat, Either Thou Wilt Not Hear 4/20/2010
20. Sonnet. The Double Rock 4/20/2010
21. Paradox. That Fruition Destroyes Love 4/20/2010
22. Sonnet. Dry Those Fair, Those Chrystal Eyes 4/20/2010
23. The Pink 4/20/2010
24. The Retreat 4/20/2010
25. The Short Wooing 4/20/2010
26. The Vow-Breaker 4/20/2010
27. To One Demanding Why Wine Sparkles 4/20/2010
28. The Labyrinth 4/20/2010
29. To My Sister Anne King, Who Chid Me In Verse For Being Angry 4/20/2010
30. The Dirge 4/20/2010
31. The Farewell 4/20/2010
32. The Defence 4/20/2010
33. The Boyes Answer To The Blackmoor 4/20/2010
34. Tell Me No More How Fair She Is 4/20/2010
35. Upon The Death Of My Ever Desired Friend Doctor Donne Dean Of Pauls 4/20/2010
36. To A. R. Vpon The Same 4/20/2010
37. Paradox. That It Is Best For A Young Maid To Marry An Old Man 4/20/2010
38. Psalm Cl. 4/20/2010
39. To My Dead Friend Ben Johnson 4/20/2010
40. Upon A Braid Of Hair In A Heart Sent By Mrs. E. H. 4/20/2010
Best Poem of Henry King

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!
How ...

Read the full of A Contemplation Upon Flowers

A Penitential Hymne

Hearken O God unto a Wretches cryes
Who low dejected at thy footstool lies.
Let not the clamour of my heinous sin
Drown my requests, which strive to enter in
At those bright gates, which alwaies open stand
To such as beg remission at thy hand.
Too well I know, if thou in rigour deal
I can nor pardon ask, nor yet appeal:
To my hoarse voice, heaven will no audience grant,

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