Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE WORSHIPFUL, MY VERY LOVING MASTER, LAMBERT OSBALSTON, by ABRAHAM COWLEY



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE WORSHIPFUL, MY VERY LOVING MASTER, LAMBERT OSBALSTON, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: My childish muse is in her spring; and yet
Last Line: The best, and first fruites, of her gratefull pen.
Subject(s): Teaching & Teachers; Educators; Professors


Sir,
My childish Muse is in her Spring; and yet
Can onely shew some budding of her Wit.
One frowne upon her Worke (learn'd Sir) from you;
Like some unkinder storme shot from your brow,
Would turne her Spring to withering Autumne's time:
And make her Blossomes perish, ere their Prime;
But if you Smile, if your gracious Eye
Shee an auspicious Alpha can descrie:
How soone will they grow Fruit? How will they flourish
That had such beames their Infancie to nourish.
Which being sprung to ripenesse, expect then
The best, and first fruites, of her gratefull Pen.




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