CX

Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there,  new

LI

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of m  new

CXLVI

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,  new

LX

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled sh  new

V

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
T  new

XCIX

The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet  new

CXXXII

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying m  new

XII

When I do count the clock that tells the tim  new

LV

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princ  new

XCI

Some glory in their birth, some in their ski  new

LI

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of m  new

XXXV

No more be griev'd at that which thou hast  new

CXLVI

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,  new

CXXII

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
  new

XCVIII

From you have I been absent in the spring  new

LXVII

Ah! wherefore with infection should he liv  new

XIII

O! that  new