Ben Jonson Poems

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Ben Jonson
Benjamin Jonson (c. 11 June 1572 – 6 August 1637) was an English Renaissance dramatist, poet and actor. A contemporary of William Shakespeare, he is best known for his satirical plays, particularly Volpone and The Alchemist which are considered his best, and his lyric poems. A man of vast reading and a seemingly insatiable appetite for controversy, Jonson had an unparalleled breadth of influence on Jacobean and Caroline playwrights and poets.

I walk down the garden-paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squil... [read poem]
if by dull rhymes our english must be chain'd
If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd,
And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet
... [read poem]
a celebration of charis: i. his excuse for loving
Let it not your wonder move,
Less your laughter, that I love.
Though I now write fifty yea... [read poem]
meg merrilies
Old Meg she was a Gipsy,
And liv'd upon the Moors:
Her bed it was the brown heath tur... [read poem]
ode to psyche
O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,... [read poem]
come, my celia
Come, my Celia, let us prove
While we may, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forev... [read poem]
robin hood

No! those days are gone away
And their hours are old and gray,
And... [read poem]
Ever let the Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home:
At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,... [read poem]
ode on melancholy
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;... [read poem]
the human seasons
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:... [read poem]
on first looking into chapman's homer
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;... [read poem]
when i have fears that i may cease to be
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,... [read poem]
to autumn
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Con... [read poem]
the eve of st. agnes
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
... [read poem]
to sleep
O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Ou... [read poem]
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from t... [read poem]
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into not... [read poem]
on sitting down to read king lear once again
O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute!
Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away!
... [read poem]
ode on a grecian urn
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,... [read poem]
la belle dame sans merci
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is withe... [read poem]
lines on the mermaid tavern
Souls of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,... [read poem]
to homer
Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades,
As one who si... [read poem]
ode to a nightingale
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,... [read poem]
to one who has been long in city pent
To one who has been long in city pent,
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
A... [read poem]
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