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He was exhaled his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
John Dryden
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John Dryden
Age: 68 †
Born: 1631
Born: August 7
Died: 1700
Died: May 12
Hymnwriter
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Aldwincle
Northamptonshire
Creator
Sun
Dying
Morning
Death
Exhaling
Spirit
Exhaled
Great
Dew
Drew
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An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
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Boldness is a mask for fear, however great.
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Time and death shall depart and say in flying Love has found out a way to live, by dying.
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If one must be rejected, one succeed, make him my lord within whose faithful breast is fixed my image, and who loves me best.
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Not sharp revenge, nor hell itself can find, A fiercer torment than a guilty mind, Which day and night doth dreadfully accuse, Condemns the wretch, and still the charge renews.
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Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
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When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
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A lazy frost, a numbness of the mind.
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The winds that never moderation knew, Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.
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For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
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For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.
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