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John Wilbye
7 March 1574 - September 1638 / Brome, Suffolk
Poems of John Wilbye
A Silly Sylvan, Kissing Heav'N-Born Fire
Adieu Sweet Amaryllis
Ah! Cannot Sighs Not Tears
Ah! Cruel Amarillis
Alas What Hope Of Speeding
Alas! What A Wretched Life Is This!
All Pleasure Is Of This Condition
And Though My Love Abounding
As Fair As Morn
As Matchless Beauty
Away, Thou Shalt Not Love Me
Ay Me; Can Every Rumour
Change Me, O Heav'Ns
Cruel, Behold My Heavy Ending
Dear Pity, How, Ah!
Despiteful Thus Unto Myself, I Languish
Die, Hapless Man
Down In A Valley As Alexis Trips
Draw On, Sweet Night
Flora Gave Me Fairest Flowers
Fly Not So Swift, My Dear
Fly, Love, Aloft
Happy Streams, Whose Trembling Fall
Happy, O Happy He
Hard Destinies Are Love And Beauty Parted
I Always Beg
I Am Quite Tired With My Groans
I Fall, I Fall
I Live, And Yet Methinks I Do Not Breathe
I Love, Alas! Yet Am Not Loved
I Sung Sometimes
Lady, When I Behold The Roses Sprouting
Lady, Your Words Do Spite Me
Love Not Me For Comely Grace
My Throat Is Sore
O Fools! Can You Not See
O God, The Rock Of My Whole Strength
O Wretched Man!
O, What Shall I Do
Of Joys And Pleasing Pains
Oft Have I Vow'D
Ong Have I Made These Hills And Valleys Weary
So Light Is Love
Softly, O! Dropp Mine Eyes
Stay, Corydon, Thou Swain
Sweet Honey-Sucking Bees
Sweet Love, If Thou Wilt Gain
The Lady Oriana
There Is A Jewel
There, Where I Saw Her Lovely Beauty Painted
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