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Richard Lovelace

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English writer and poet (1617-1658)

Person · Open Library

Born
1618
Died
1658
Works
24

Top works

  • Prentice Hall Literature--The British Tradition
  • Minor poets of the seventeenth century
  • Prentice Hall Literature - Timeless Voices, Timeless Themes - The British Tradition
  • Minor Poets of the 17th Century
  • Lucasta: epodes, odes, sonnets, songs, &c

via Open Library + Wikidata

Music · MusicBrainz

Type
Group
Origin
London
Active from
2012

Discography

via MusicBrainz · CC0

Listeners · Last.fm

Listeners
62
Total plays
90

Richard Lovelace (1618–1657) was an English poet in the seventeenth century. His best known works are "To Althea, from Prison", and "To Lucasta, Going to the Warres". <a href="https://www.last.fm/music/Richard+Lovelace">Read more on Last.fm</a>

via Last.fm · Richard Lovelace

Recent publications · Crossref

5 total works indexed

  1. The Measurement of Observer Agreement for Categorical Data

    · 1977 · cited 63,319x

  2. The Sequence Alignment/Map format and SAMtools

    · 2009 · cited 59,210x

  3. Fast and accurate short read alignment with Burrows–Wheeler transform

    · 2009 · cited 47,632x

  4. ImageNet: A large-scale hierarchical image database

    · 2009 · cited 47,223x

  5. Highly accurate protein structure prediction with AlphaFold

    · 2021 · cited 43,543x

via Crossref · CC0

Quotes

  • Love, then unstinted, Love did sip,And cherries plucked fresh from the lip;On cheeks and roses free he fed;Lasses like autumn plums did drop,And lads indifferently did cropA flower and a maidenhead.
  • Poor verdant fool, and now green ice! thy joys,Large and as lasting as thy perch of grass,Bid us lay in ‘gainst winter rain, and poiseTheir floods with an o’erflowing glass.
  • If to be absent were to beAway from thee;Or that when I am gone,You and I were alone;Then, my Lucasta, might I cravePity from blust'ring wind, or swallowing wave.
  • Though Seas and Land betwixt us both,Our Faith and Troth,Like separated soules,All time and space controules:Above the highest sphere wee meetUnseene, unknowne, and greet as Angels greet.
  • Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,That from the nunneryOf thy chaste breast and quiet mind,To war and arms I fly.
  • Yet this inconstancy is suchAs you too shall adore;I could not love thee, dear, so much,Loved I not honor more.

via Wikiquote · CC BY-SA