Poems with rhymes of strove

Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grove,
Where Venus in her naked glory strove

But greater he, whose bold invention strove
To emulate the fiery bolts of Jove.

Amyntas led me to a Grove,
Where all the Trees did shade us;
The Sun it self, though it had Strove,

These stupid robins, how they strove
To gluttonize that young cuckoo!
And like a prodigy it throve,

He changed his colours, and in vain he strove:
He frown'd-I, smiling, view'd the faint essay:
Poor youth! he little knew it flow'd from Jove.

Have I for this with labour strove,
And lavish'd all my little store,
To fence for you my shady grove,

To think of the play in the medder an' grove,
When little legs wrassled an' little han's strove;

Licia my love was sitting in a grove,
Tuning her smiles unto the chirping songs,
But straight she spied where two together strove,

_You_, for whose back the rods and cudgels strove
Ere yet the ax had hewn them from the grove?

Upon this mount there stood a stately grove,
Whose reaching arms to clip the welkin strove,

Puissant still, as when of old it strove
With Solomon for spitting on the stove

Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove,
To keep my Lamp in strongly strove;

And we strove,
Couldn't say
That we drove

I wrote a song in which I strove
To shadow forth thy strain of woe,
Dark widowed sister of the grove!—

See! are not these the hands that wove
Delight, and these the arms that strove

Though still to sleep I strove,
I knew that it was seven o'clock
When father shook the stove.

The favourite messenger of Jove,
And Lemnian god, consulting strove

Like pink-white windflowers in the grove,
That came while east and west wind strove

I burned my fingers on the stove
And wept with bitterness;
But poor old Auntie Maggie strove

As they set out for their camp, which was in a large grove,
And to reach it, manfully against the storm they strove.