John Wilbye

(7 March 1574 - September 1638 / Brome, Suffolk)

John Wilbye Poems

1. A Silly Sylvan, Kissing Heav'N-Born Fire 5/31/2012
2. Alas! What A Wretched Life Is This! 5/31/2012
3. All Pleasure Is Of This Condition 5/31/2012
4. And Though My Love Abounding 5/31/2012
5. Ay Me; Can Every Rumour 5/31/2012
6. Change Me, O Heav'Ns 5/31/2012
7. Dear Pity, How, Ah! 5/31/2012
8. Die, Hapless Man 5/31/2012
9. Down In A Valley As Alexis Trips 5/31/2012
10. Happy Streams, Whose Trembling Fall 5/31/2012
11. O Fools! Can You Not See 5/31/2012
12. O God, The Rock Of My Whole Strength 5/31/2012
13. O, What Shall I Do 5/31/2012
14. O Wretched Man! 5/31/2012
15. Of Joys And Pleasing Pains 5/31/2012
16. So Light Is Love 5/31/2012
17. Oft Have I Vow'D 5/31/2012
18. Softly, O! Dropp Mine Eyes 5/31/2012
19. Stay, Corydon, Thou Swain 5/31/2012
20. I Always Beg 5/31/2012
21. I Am Quite Tired With My Groans 5/31/2012
22. I Fall, I Fall 5/31/2012
23. I Live, And Yet Methinks I Do Not Breathe 5/31/2012
24. I Love, Alas! Yet Am Not Loved 5/31/2012
25. I Sung Sometimes 5/31/2012
26. Sweet Love, If Thou Wilt Gain 5/31/2012
27. The Lady Oriana 5/31/2012
28. There Is A Jewel 5/31/2012
29. There, Where I Saw Her Lovely Beauty Painted 5/31/2012
30. Thou Art But Young, Thou Say’st 5/31/2012
31. Thus Love Commands 5/31/2012
32. Unkind, O, Stay Thy Flying! 5/31/2012
33. Weep, O Mine Eyes 5/31/2012
34. What Needeth All This Travail? 5/31/2012
35. When Cloris Heard 5/31/2012
36. When Shall My Wretched Life 5/31/2012
37. Where Most My Thoughts 5/31/2012
38. Ye Restless Thoughts 5/31/2012
39. Ye That Do Live In Pleasures 5/31/2012
40. Yet, Sweet, Take Heed 5/31/2012
Best Poem of John Wilbye

Love Not Me For Comely Grace

Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face;
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart:
For those may fail or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever.
Keep therefore a true woman's eye,
And love me still, but know not why;
So hast thou the same reason still
To doat upon me ever.

Read the full of Love Not Me For Comely Grace

Draw On, Sweet Night

Draw on, Sweet Night, friend unto those cares
That do arise from painful melancholy.
My life so ill through want of comfort fares,
that unto thee I consecrate it wholly.
Sweet Night, draw on
My griefs when they be told to shades
and darkness find some ease from paining,
And while thou all in silence dost enfold,
I then shall have best time for my complaining.

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