Thomas Sackville, earl of Dorset Poems

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Thomas Sackville, earl of Dorset
Thomas Sackville, 1st Earl of Dorset (1536 – April 19, 1608) was an English statesman and poet, son of Richard Sackville. He was a Member of Parliament and Lord High Treasurer. His houses, Knole House, at Knole in Kent, and Michelham Priory are celebrated. He had just been installed as Grand Master Mason at York on St John's Day, 27th December 1561 when an armed force arrived from The Queen, who had heard that the Masons had secrets which would not be revealed to her. Undismayed, Sackville took the opportunity to convince them that Freemasonry was “the most useful system ever founded on divine and moral laws” and initiated the senior officers; so that when the Queen received their report she “esteemed freemasons as men that cultivated peace and friendship, arts and sciences, and never again sought to dislodge them”. He was author, with Thomas Norton, of the play Gorboduc (1562). He was created Baron Buckhurst, of Buckhurst in the County of Sussex, in 1567, and Earl of Dorset in 1604. He succeeded William Cecil, Lord Burghley as Lord Treasurer in 1599, and was a capable, if uninspired, financial manager. He died in 1608.

THE Government--I heard about the Government and
I went out to find... [read poem]
the mirror for magistrates: the induction
The wrathful winter, 'proaching on apace,
With blustering blasts had all ybar'd the treen,... [read poem]
death snips proud men
DEATH is stronger than all the governments because
the governments ... [read poem]
JACK was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun.
He worked thirty years on t... [read poem]
theme in yellow
I SPOT the hills
With yellow balls in autumn.
I light the prairie c... [read poem]
PILE the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and l... [read poem]
manitoba childe roland
LAST night a January wind was ripping at the shingles
over our hou... [read poem]
HOG Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
... [read poem]
ready to kill
TEN minutes now I have been looking at this.
I have gone by here before ... [read poem]
i am the people, the mob
I AM the people -- the mob--the crowd--the mass.
Do you know that all th... [read poem]
THE fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over ... [read poem]
THE single clenched fist lifted and ready,
Or the open asking hand held... [read poem]
harrison street court
I HEARD a woman's lips
Speaking to a companion
Say these words:... [read poem]
THERE are no handles upon a language
Whereby men take hold of it
An... [read poem]
they will say
OF my city the worst that men will ever say is this:
You took little chi... [read poem]
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