Tag Archives: tudor poet

Friday Poem – The Passionate Shepherd to his Love

A lovely poem by Christopher Marlowe, (1564 – 1593) an English dramatist, poet and translator of the Elizabethan era. As the foremost Elizabethan tragedian, next to shepherdWilliam Shakespeare, he is known for his blank verse, his overreaching protagonists, and his mysterious death.

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherds’s swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

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Friday Poem – Farewell Love and All Thy Laws Together

This poem is by Sir Thomas Wyatt, a poet from the times of Henry VIII, for whom he was a diplomat. On his travels he developed a taste for continental poetry and was the first English poet to use Italian forms of the sonnet and terza rima, and the French rondeau.

This poem is about those who have been burnt by love in the past and have decided to renounce it and save their hearts from further pain.

Farewell Love and All Thy Laws Together

Farewell love and all thy laws forever;
Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.
Senec and Plato call me from thy lore
To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavour.
In blind error when I did persever,
Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore,
Hath taught me to set in trifles no store
And scape forth, since liberty is lever.
Therefore farewell; go trouble younger hearts
And in me claim no more authority.
With idle youth go use thy property
And thereon spend thy many brittle darts,
For hitherto though I have lost all my time,
Me lusteth no lenger rotten boughs to climb.

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