Created by hannahturner9
over 10 years ago
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Question | Answer |
Where better... | can we find two hemishperes Without sharp North, without declining west? The Good Morrow |
They killed once... | an inglorious man, but I crucify him daily, Spit in my face |
God clothed... | himself in vile man's flesh that so He might be weak enough to suffer woe. Spit in my Face |
Spit in my face... | you Jews, and pierce my side Buffet and scoff, scourge and crucify me, For i have sinned. Spit in my face |
If ever any beauty... | I did see, Which I desired, and got t'was but a dream of thee. The Good Morrow The Good Morrow |
Love so... | alike, that none do slacken none can die The Good Morrow |
What ever dies.. | was not mixed equally. The Good Morrow |
Busy old fool... | Unruly sun The Sun rising |
For love, all love... | of other sights controls And makes one little room an everywhere. The Good Morrow |
Must to thy... | notions lovers seasons run? The Sun Rising |
(For graves have.... | learned that womanhead To be more than one a bed. The Relic |
Just so much... | honour, when thou yield'sy to me... Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee The Flea |
Yet we... | know not what we loved, nor why, The Relic |
And thou shall hear... | All here in one bed lay. The Sun Rising |
Let not that self murder... | added be, And sacriledge, three sins in killing three The Flea |
It suck'd me... | first, and now sucks thee And in this flea our two bloods mingled be The Flea |
and this, alas.. | is more than we would do. The Flea |
She's all... | states, and all princes I, Nothing else is. The Good Morrow |
A bracelet of... | bright hair around the bone/ The Relic |
Love all.. | alike, no season knows, nor clime Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time. The Sun Rising |
Since she... | whom i loved hath paid her last debt. Since she whom I Loved |
Except You'Enthral... | me, never shall be free Nor ever chaste, except You Ravish me. Batter my Heart |
Wholly to heavenly... | things my mind is set. Since she whom I Loved |
When thou hast... | done, thou hast not done, For I have more A Hymn to God the Father |
Wilt though forgive.. | that sin where i begin, Which was my sin, though it was done before. Hymn to God the Father |
To break... | blow, burn and make me new. Batter my heart |
But though i have... | found thee and thou my thirst hath fed. Since She Whom i Loved |
And soonest our... | best men with thee do go, Rest their bones and souls delivery. Death be not Proud |
My Good is... | dead, and her soul early to heaven ravished. Since She Whom I Loved |
One short sleep.... | past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more, Death, Thou shalt die. Death be not proud |
I, like a... | usurped town to'another due labour to admit you, but O to no end. Batter my heart. |
But i am betrothed... | unto Your enemy. Batter My Heart |
Batter my Heart... | three personed God. Batter my Heart |
Swear by Thyself... | that at my beath thy sun Shall shine as he shines now Hymn to God the Father |
Death be... | not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so Death be not Proud |
The sun is spent... | and now his flask Send forth light squibs, no constant rays A Nocturnal on St Lucy's |
For i am... | every dead thing. A Nocturnal on St Lucy's |
And we in us... | find the'eagle and the dove The pheonix riddle hath more wit. The Canonization |
and often absences... | withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses. A Nocturnal on St Lucy's |
When by thy scorn... | O murd'ress, i am dead. The Apparition |
and by these hymns... | all shall approve Us canonized for Love. The Canonization |
Since my love... | is spent, I'had rather thou shoulds't painfully repent Than by my threat'nings rest innocent. The Apparition |
Tis the year's... | midnight, and it is the day's/ A Nocturnal on St Lucy's day |
And thee, | feigned vestal, in worse arms shall see; The Apparition |
If i an ordinary... | nothing were, As shadow, a' light and body must be here. A Nocturnal on St Lucy's Day |
For God's sake... | hold your tounge and let me love. The Canonization |
Since this... | Both the year's and the days deep midnight is. A Nocturnal on St Lucy's Day |
All rest... | my powers defy: Until i labour, i in labour lie. Elegy to His Mistress going to Bed |
O My America... | my new-found land. Elegy to His mistress going to Bed. |
As souls... | unbodied, bodies unclothed must be Elegy to His Mistress Going To Bed |
But my'ever... | waking part shall see that face Whose fear already shakes my every joint; This is my Play's Last scene |
My Pilgrimage's.... | last mile; and my race Idly, yet quickly run This is my plays last scene |
Impute me... | righteous, thus purged of evil For thus i leave the world, the flesh, the devil. This is my Play's last scene. |
My tears pour... | before thy face, whilst I stay here For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear. A Valediction of Weeping |
As stiff twin... | compasses are two: Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the'other do. A Valediction forbidding mourning |
So let us... | melt, and make no noise No tear floods, nor sigh tempests move, Valediction of Weeping |
As virtuous men pass.. | mildly'away And whisper to their souls to go. A Valediction forbidding Mourning |
Our two souls... | therefore, which are one. A Valediction Forbidding Mourning |
Tis not... | the bodies that marry, but the minds Which he in her angelic finds Loves Alchemy |
I'have loved... | and got, and told. Love's Alchemy |
Shall we for this.... | vain bubbles' shadow pay? Loves Alchemy |
A workmen.. | that hath copies can lay An europe, an Afric and an Asian, And quicly make that which was nothing, all. A Valediction Of Weeping |
When a tear falls... | that falls which it bore, So thou and i are nothing then, when on a diverse shore. A Valediction Of Weeping |
O more the moon.... | draw not up the seas to drown me in thy sphere. A Valediction forbidding weeping |
Since thou and I.... | sigh are another's breath, Whoe'er sighs most is cruellest, and hastes the other's breath, Valediction of Weeping |
Some that have deeper... | digged in Love's mine than I, Say where his centric happiness doth due. Love's Alchemy |
Hope not for... | mind in women, at their best Sweetness and wit they'are, but mummy possessed. Loves Alchemy |
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