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THOMAS PARNELL
Irish poet
(1679 - 1718)

But now the clouds in airy tumult fly;
  The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky;
    A fresher green the smiling leaves display,
      And glittering as they tremble, cheer the day.
      - [Morning]

Let those love now, who never loved before,
  Let those who always loved, now love the more.
      - [Proverbs]

No real happiness is found
  In trailing purple o'er the ground.
      - [Dress]

Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day
  Came onward, mantled o'er with sober grey;
    Nature in silence bid the world repose.
      - [Night]

Remote from man, with God he passed the days,
  Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
      - [Retirement]

Solitude's the nurse of woe.
      - [Solitude]

The very thoughts of change I hate,
  As much as of despair;
    Nor ever covet to be great,
      Unless it be for her.
      - [Proposals]

Death's but a path that must be trod,
  If man would ever pass to God.
      - A Night-Piece on Death (l. 67) [Death]

We call it only pretty Fanny's way.
      - An Elegy to an Old Beauty [Manners]

Let time that makes you homely, make you sage.
      - An Elegy to an Old Beauty (l. 35) [Time]

Then in a kiss she breath'd her various arts,
  Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts;
    A mind for love, but still a changing mind;
      The lisp affected, and the glance design'd;
        The sweet confusing blush, the secret wink,
          The gentle-swimming walk, the courteous sink;
            The stare for strangeness fit, for scorn the frown
              For decent yielding, looks declining down;
                The practised languish, where well-feign'd desire
                  Would own its melting in a mutual fire;
                    Gay smiles to comfort; April showers to move;
                      And all the nature, all the art of love.
      - Hesiod; Or, the Rise of Woman [Coquette]

Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
  From youth to age a reverend hermit grew;
    The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
      His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well,
        Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days;
          Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
      - The Hermit [Solitude]

At length some pity warm'd the master's breast
  ('Twas then, his threshold first receiv'd a guest),
    Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care,
      And half he welcomes in the shivering pair.
      - The Hermit (l. 97) [Pity]

Let those love now who never lov'd before,
  Let those who always loved now love the more.
      - Translation of the Pervigilium Veneris,
        (ancient poem) (author unknown) [Love]

Still an angel appear to each lover beside,
  But still be a woman to you.
      - When thy Beauty Appears [Women]


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