Representative Poetry Online
On this day: January 18th
Random Poem of the Day
1Flie, fly, my friends, I haue my death wound; fly,
2See there that boy, that murthering boy I say,
3Who like a thiefe, hid in the dark bush doth ly,
4Till bloudie bullet get him wrongfull pray.
5So Tyrant he no fitter place could spie,
7As that sweete black which vailes the heaun'ly eye:
8There himselfe with his shot he close doth lay.
9Poore passenger, passe now thereby I did,
10And staid pleas'd with the prospect of the place,
12But straight I saw motions of lightning grace,
13And then descried the glistring of his dart:
Notes
6] faire leuell: good aim Back to Line
11] terminal colon added Back to Line
14] “is pierc’d” emended to “it pierc’d” Back to Line