Thomas Randolph (born 15 June 1605, Newnham-cum-Badby, Northamptonshire, England died March 1635, Blatherwycke, Northamptonshire) was an English poet and dramatist. He was born near Daventry in Northamptonshire, and was baptized on 18 June 1605. He was the uncle of colonist William Randolph.
He was educated at Westminster and at Trinity College, Cambridge. He was awarded his B.A. degree... more »
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Thomas Randolph Poems
We the fairies blithe and antic, Of Dimensions not gigantic, Though the moonshine mostly keep us, Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,
Upon His Picture
When age hath made me what I am not now, And every wrinkle tells me where the plow Of time hath furrowed; when an ice shall flow Through every vein, and all my head wear snow;
A Devout Lover
I have a mistress, for perfections rare In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair. Like tapers on the altar shine her eyes; Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice;
An Ode To Master Anthony Stafford, To Ha...
1 Come, spur away! 2 I have no patience for a longer stay; 3 But must go down, 4 And leave the chargeable noise of this great town.
An Ode To Master Anthony Stafford To Has...
COME, spur away, I have no patience for a longer stay, But must go down And leave the chargeable noise of this great town:
On Six Cambridge Lasses Bathing Themselv...
1 When bashfull daylight now was gone 2 And night, that hides a blush, came on. 3 Sixe Pretty Nymphes to wash away 4 The sweatinge of a Summers daye
Comments about Thomas Randolph
We the fairies blithe and antic,
Of Dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,
Stolen sweets are always sweeter;
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels;
Stolen, stolen be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time to go orchard robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling
Were it not for stealing, stealing.