1.
There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.
Thomas Campion
2.
From heav'nly thoughts all true delight doth spring.
Thomas Campion
3.
Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly;
To every day we live, a day we die.
Thomas Campion
4.
Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o’erflow with wine... The summer hath his joys, And winter his delights; Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, They shorten tedious nights.
Thomas Campion
5.
Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o'erflow with wine; Let well-tuned words amaze With harmony divine.
Thomas Campion
6.
Never love unless you can bear with all the faults of man!
Thomas Campion
7.
A prudent pharmacist often vends something for your complaint. But wine merchant you do this invariably.
Thomas Campion
8.
Secret fates
Guide our states
Both in mirth and mourning.
Thomas Campion
9.
Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.
Thomas Campion
10.
Thou shalt prove
That beauty is no beauty without love.
Thomas Campion
11.
Kind are her answers, But her performance keeps no day; Breaks time, as dancers. From their own Music when they stray.
Thomas Campion
12.
All our pride is but a jest. None are worst and none are best. Grief and hope and joy and fear Play their pageant everywhere.
Thomas Campion
13.
If all would lead their lives in love like me,
Then bloody swords and armor should not be;
No drum nor trumpet peaceful sleeps should move,
Unless alarm came from the camp of love.
Thomas Campion
14.
Lost is our freedom
When we submit to women so:
Why do we need 'em
When, in their best, they work our woe?
Thomas Campion
15.
Fain would I wed a fair young man that night and day could please me, When my mind or body grieved that had the power to ease me. Maids are full of longing thoughtsthat breed a bloodless sickness, And that, oft I hear men say, is only cured by quickness.
Thomas Campion
16.
Fortune, honour, beauty, youth,
Are but blossoms dying;
Wanton pleasures, doting love,
Are but shadows flying.
Thomas Campion
17.
Beauty is not beauty without love.
Thomas Campion
18.
The man whose silent daysIn harmless joys are spent,Whom hopes cannot delude,Nor sorrow discontent:That man needs neither towersNor armour for defence,Nor secret vaults to flyFrom thunder's violence.
Thomas Campion
19.
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.
Thomas Campion
20.
My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive Into their west, and straight again revive, But soon as once set is our little light, Then must we sleep one ever-during night. See Catullus 200:5.
Thomas Campion
21.
Yet I would not die a maid, because I had a mother, As I was by one brought forth, I would bring forth another.
Thomas Campion
