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The perfectly awful rhyming of Sir Thomas as he rides with his wife and men to the Hadrian Wall. I tried to remove this from 'How To Marry Your Wife,' but neither Sir Thomas nor Lady Merry would agree...alas
What if he lost his bet? What good was gold and land without Merry by his side? He couldn’t allow that to happen. Despite the danger, she’d have to stay at his side until she relented. They mounted and joined his men. Once they were well clear of the inn, he began a jaunty song.
My Merry, my merry wife.
Down derry, down derry down.
The fairest of fair, my life.
Down derry, down derry down.
She wed me, she wed me
But God’s blood won’t bed me.
Down derry, down down down.
She giggled. “All right, Thomas, I have warned you.
Sir Thomas, he stole my heart.
Down derry, down derry pie.
He left me and did depart.
Down derry, down derry pie.
He swears he won’t leave me
But I can’t believe he.
Down derry, cries my eyes.
The sun glistened on the dew of the newest of spring green leaves and more men joined them who waited along the river’s edge. A dark bearded knight, Arthur, put a lute on his lap and Jacob jumped in for the next verse.
Oh, madam, how cruel are you?
Down derry, down derry down.
Sir Thomas, his balls are blue.
Down derry, down derry down.
You wed him, you wed him,
Is more than time you bed him.
Down derry, down down down.
The men roared with laughter and Merry’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red, making her even more desirable. Harold-the-Younger managed to burst in with the next verse. He’d best do it well if he ever wanted to be accepted as a knight. A brave lad.
A lady must disagree.
Down derry, down derry down.
And force a man upon his knees.
Down derry, down derry down.
But under her ire
Lights a mighty fire.
Down derry, down down down.
“Well said. Well said. Here, here, here.” Thomas joined the men as they lifted their shields and banged upon them.
The lad leaned over on his mount, picked a wild nosegay by the side of the road, and handed it to her. Not to be outdone by a squire, one by one, the others did the same.
Astonishing.
He’d never known any of them to possess a gentler nature. She stuck each colorful sprig into a braid in her hair, until she turned into a bright forest nymph.
The verses went on for miles, until they were all hoarse and out of rhymes. By the time Thomas slowed the tempo of the last verse, the sun was warm and high in the sky.
King Edward gave his commands.
Down derry, down derry down.
So off I went to foreign lands.
Down derry, down derry down.
I love thee, I beg thee,
Forgive me, dear Merry.
Down derry, down down down.
They stopped at a clearing, dismounted for lunch, and ate of the bread and cheese packed by the innkeeper’s wife. Their skins were full of a stout, but sweet, mead of which they drank heartily.
Thank you
Enjoyed it thoroughly!
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That is very good, Lady Stella.
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The perfectly awful rhyming of Sir Thomas as he rides with his wife and men to the Hadrian Wall. I tried to remove this from 'How To Marry Your Wife,' but neither Sir Thomas nor Lady Merry would agree...alas
What if he lost his bet? What good was gold and land without Merry by his side? He couldn’t allow that to happen. Despite the danger, she’d have to stay at his side until she relented. They mounted and joined his men. Once they were well clear of the inn, he began a jaunty song.
My Merry, my merry wife.
Down derry, down derry down.
The fairest of fair, my life.
Down derry, down derry down.
She wed me, she wed me
But God’s blood won’t bed me.
Down derry, down down down.
She giggled. “All right, Thomas, I have warned you.
Sir Thomas, he stole my heart.
Down derry, down derry pie.
He left me and did depart.
Down derry, down derry pie.
He swears he won’t leave me
But I can’t believe he.
Down derry, cries my eyes.
The sun glistened on the dew of the newest of spring green leaves and more men joined them who waited along the river’s edge. A dark bearded knight, Arthur, put a lute on his lap and Jacob jumped in for the next verse.
Oh, madam, how cruel are you?
Down derry, down derry down.
Sir Thomas, his balls are blue.
Down derry, down derry down.
You wed him, you wed him,
Is more than time you bed him.
Down derry, down down down.
The men roared with laughter and Merry’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red, making her even more desirable. Harold-the-Younger managed to burst in with the next verse. He’d best do it well if he ever wanted to be accepted as a knight. A brave lad.
A lady must disagree.
Down derry, down derry down.
And force a man upon his knees.
Down derry, down derry down.
But under her ire
Lights a mighty fire.
Down derry, down down down.
“Well said. Well said. Here, here, here.” Thomas joined the men as they lifted their shields and banged upon them.
The lad leaned over on his mount, picked a wild nosegay by the side of the road, and handed it to her. Not to be outdone by a squire, one by one, the others did the same.
Astonishing.
He’d never known any of them to possess a gentler nature. She stuck each colorful sprig into a braid in her hair, until she turned into a bright forest nymph.
The verses went on for miles, until they were all hoarse and out of rhymes. By the time Thomas slowed the tempo of the last verse, the sun was warm and high in the sky.
King Edward gave his commands.
Down derry, down derry down.
So off I went to foreign lands.
Down derry, down derry down.
I love thee, I beg thee,
Forgive me, dear Merry.
Down derry, down down down.
They stopped at a clearing, dismounted for lunch, and ate of the bread and cheese packed by the innkeeper’s wife. Their skins were full of a stout, but sweet, mead of which they drank heartily.
-
Isn't it annoying when your internet connection is on, goes off & then comes back on.
You try to answer people then 10 seconds after it's gone.
You end up having to type it out again & it does your head in.
Sometimes you feel like throwing your laptop in the bin.
Then you start thinking straight & think it would be a waste of your money.
Having to go out & buy another when there's nothing wrong with the one you've got isn't very funny.
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Generalisation on what some people are like
I wish people would stop judging other people on their looks.
They don't care whether people can draw, paint, make things, sing, play musical instruments or write poetry or books.
They also judge people on their voices.
They judge people not on their deeds but on their choices.
They don't realise that people can be intelligent even though they stutter.
They don't realise that people can be intellectual even if they mutter.
They are nasty to people who don't share their creeds.
They think it's good to say horrid things & do horrible deeds.
They don't realise people can be smart if they can't walk.
They think you're stupid if you cannot talk.
They are very quick to put other people down.
Then they treat them as if they're crazy if they wear a frown.
They treat the elderly & disabled & people who are different to them as if they didn't matter.
They treat people who are bigger than them like dirt because their stomachs aren't flatter.
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I sing when I'm happy.
I sing when I'm sad.
I sing when I'm calm.
I sing when I'm mad.
I sing all the time.
I've got a nice voice
I sing songs that rhyme.
People like hearing me.
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For when people feel down
Don't just sit there if you are feeling sad & blue.
Find something to do.
Things aren't that bad.
You don't have to be so mad.
You don't have to feel so sad.
When you feel that sad you have to wear a frown.
Try wearing a smile & you won't be so down.
Tomorrow is always another day.
You can always see things another way.
You can sing, dance, laugh or play.
The sun will always cheer you up.
As well as tea or latte by the cup.
Listen to music & sing along.
Dance to the song.
You can't go wrong.
There is nothing better than a good book.
It doesn't hurt to have a look.
You're never as bad as you make yourself out to be.
Have faith in yourself & others will have faith in thee.
I know, it's happened to me.
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Why can't you think straight when you're mad?
Why can't you think straight when you're sad?
This fight/flight/freeze response is out of date.
I detest people who are full of hate.
Singing normally calms me down.
It normally rids me of the frown.
Singing a song with lots of high notes lets of steam.
Singing a crescendo normally works a dream.
That's because if you express anger vocally a crescendo mimics this.
It starts quiet getting louder until it reaches a climax that's easy to miss.
The sound of bagpipes keeps me calm.
I find it has a great deal of charm.
Reading helps cheer me up a lot too.
I read books wrote like Victorians used to do.
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Cake, cake, beautiful cake.
Nice to eat & lovely to bake.
Don't eat a cake that is fake.
If you do your teeth will break.
Cake, cake, beautiful cake.
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Equines
In my opinion, equines are the nicest animals on earth.
I've thought that since not long after my birth.
Equines are horses, ponies & donkeys too.
That information is for those without a clue.
At 1 time, most of the world without them would be at a standstill.
They were transport, pulled canal boats & worked in the mine & mill.
They also used to pull the plough.
It's a shame they don't do it now.
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I love the woman's poem but not the man's as I only like poetry with a good rhyme scheme to it. Rhythm & alliteration are just added extras to me. That's just my opinion though.
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I love your poetry Anne. I also write & appreciate good poetry.
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folks there is some outstanding poetry in this thread.
Please feel free to enjoy.
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More?
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Differences
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The Good Knight
Steely Knight on trusted steed,
A handsome sight beheld indeed.
Rides with head held high post-battle
Beholden, adversaries rattle.
Exhuding strength and will to live-
Slow to anger, quick to forgive.
A good and just one - well respected.
Loves his own, keeps them protected.
All pause to look as he rides by,
Each damsel hopes to catch his eye.
No nymph aware his hearts been taken
A Love that would not be forsaken.
He glances down not, travels on.
She's on his mind, he's waited long.
And when soon they're reunited-
Kisses sweet and both excited.
They'll stow away for days on end.
Two disparate hearts - now will mend.
magnificent prose.
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HEAVENLY PROMISES ON MENDED WINGS
Author: Mike Lewis
The sweetest melodies are those sung from the heart.
The softest harmonies are when two souls mend together.
Why then do people say it's love that tears them apart?
When it's with love that you can stand the stormy weather.
When I met you, Spring was here, and the birds were nesting.
I looked into your soft eyes and saw the prettiest smile.
Heaven pulled down her vail and offered her most sacred blessing.
I've met an angel, I couldn't help but to smile.
Sitting by the pool of life, reflecting upon it's surface,
I think of others and I get a little ripple.
I think of you, and a wave swells, spraying my face.
You said you wouldn't cry, but I see the tears start to trickle.
Some people don't believe in love at first sight,
Obviously they haven't seen you.
Drifting on love's endless blissful flight,
I'm so glad I met you.
HIDDEN LOVE
Author: Heather
Passion burning deep in my heart
Wishing that we were never apart
Coming together hand in hand
Melted and pressed as grains of sand
Shaping a most beautiful pane of glass
Etchings abound and trimmed with brass
A beautiful display wanting all to see
Remains hidden and sheltered only for me.
HOPE IS A THING WITH FEATHERS
Author: Emily Dickinson
Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune without words
And never stops at all.
And sweetest, in the gale, is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That keeps so many warm.
I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea
Yet, never, in extremity
It ask a crumb of me.
HOW DO I LOVE THEE ?
Author: Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1770-1850)
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
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Hearts Desire
Author: Brynn
Brandish you, my hearts delight
I yield to you every night
And in the time I've spent alone
My love for you I've always known.
Passion burns in lovers eyes
One look from you, my spirits rise
This flame inside, still burns bright
And from my soul, this light takes flight.
Lately this rain seems less dreary
Because of this, my hearts less weary
And if in fact we're meant to be
The sky will clear so I may see.
A future bright and filled with love
Sends cleansing rain from above
To wash away the painful tears
And release my heart of once felt fears.
Each time I look at you my dear
There seems nothing I should fear
Once locked up dreams come undone
A new life for me has begun.
My life spins in tune with yours
Twirling and dancing through open doors
A cycle with a touch of fate
Our worlds entwined, creating hate.
Through our bond, we rose to fight
A love this strong can break the night
Through this fight, we mean no pain
Happiness is all we wish to gain.
-
Intermezzo Of My Soul
Author: Joyce Hemsley
I searched for you
and I found you
Intermezzo of my soul.
I build my life around you
Mine, is a loving role.
I will cling to you forever
No hope without your call,
Be here in winter weather
in summer and in Fall.
I searched for you
And I found you, so come
Now make me whole,
Eager arms await you,
Intermezzo of my soul.
I Promise
Author: Lisa Jones
I promise to be your warm spot to cuddle up to
when you feel cold
I promise to be your soft place to land
if you should fall
I promise to be the first
one to say I am sorry (even if I was right)
I promise to be there for you
in all of your times of joy and sorrow
I promise to support you no matter
what your decision (even if I don't agree )
I promise to make a new memory
with you each and every day
I promise to love you without change.
I promise to make you laugh
I promise not to make you cry
I promise to give you strength when you are weak
I promise to love you forever
I promise to cherish you and your love
I promise to compromise with you
I promise to make you and our children my first priority
I promise to never take your love for granted
I promise to never lose faith in you
I promise to never give you a reason to distrust me
I promise to always trust you
I promise to work with you to resolve our conflicts
I promise to always be proud of you
I promise to never let you feel alone in this world
I promise to find new ways everyday to keep the fires of passion burning
I promise to be the best mom I can to our children
I promise to always keep you as an equal partner
I promise to never say things to you in anger
I promise to be your partner for life
I promise to be your shelter from the storm.
I promise you a love everlasting.
IT COULD BE FOREVER
Author: R.C.B.
Sorry, for the way I stare
Forgive me, for the way I think of you
Pardon me, for dreaming all about you
And do understand, the way I love you
If you just knew what it is like this way
I shiver when you’re near
I stare at you just to seize the day
I act so strange if you’re around
I feel my heart smile when I see you
I brag endlessly uttering words about you
And I’d be hurt just the thought you can’t be mine
If you just knew how long I’ve been hidin’
The secret of my affection, admiration I have
I never want you to notice
That I’m simply falling in love
But I hate the way I feel this pain
The pain, the fear of not wanting you to know
Or even just to give you a single clue
For I fear to face rejection and humiliation
If I’d think about how I acted when you’re near
I think I’m going regret those things
Coz I assume I got lost that moment
Trembling, gasping for what to do and say
If I just knew how to be myself with you
If only I knew what’s in your mind
Then, I didn’t have to act someone else
If tomorrow comes that you’d learn
The way I see you, the way I feel for you
Please...I never want you to turn away
Let me love the sight of you
I’m really glad to have found you
I confess, that it hurts so bad falling for you
I can never grace my heart way to you
I guess I have to stay this way
With your presence so heart away
I’d be unnoticed, unseen and unloved by you
I do hope it’s alright
If I’d be loving you silently
You don’t have to worry
I have nothing to ask for
Although I know it can’t be
Just let me be this way
Maybe for a while, for a moment
Or maybe it could be forever.
-
IN MY DREAMS
Author: Ursula
Your the one in my dreams at night,
while stars shine and in my mind good things twine.
Every night I wish to see you,
to hold you and feel you.
But yet these things I never show,
I just want you to know that they are there.
For you when you're in spare for love.
And so I end in my deepest regret
that I waited so long to show my love to you.
But you mean more to me than anything.
IN MY HEART
Author: Sherri Emily Avery
In my heart,
I hold your love close,
It's your love that I need the most.
I sit here as I watch the sunrise
In the morning dew,
I see the tip of it looking like a flame,
As I'm feeling this burning love for you.
I sit here alone with all my thoughts of you,
Watching the sunlight begin to fill the room.
Thinking of our future,
And all the things that we will do,
You holding me in your arms,
Your heart beating against mine,
As we get lost in time.
As I dream of that distant place,
Where you will always be mine.
In my heart you will always be,
The one, the only one for me!
I don't look forward going through the day,
Knowing you're not here with me.
Thinking of the endless hours,
And the days dragging by.
Why does it have to be this way?
I have a wish for you and me,
And I hope that the good Lord grants it,
For you see,
I wish that you would bring your love to me.
In my heart,
You will never leave,
So I don't have to grieve,
In my heart,
You're my only one,
And I want you with me always,
Till all our days are done.
In Search Of You
Author: Himanshu Deshpande
At times in life, when I stop distressed,
To find my wounds, lying undressed;
And pain is all that I can feel,
With no one around, to get me to heal.
At times in life, when I do tire,
Whose company do I admire?
I search in vain, for a lap to lie,
If not that, just a shoulder to cry.
At times in life, whom do I blame?
When fate plays a nasty game.
Best friends turn bitter foes,
And leave behind a string of throes.
At times in life, when everything's good,
I'm enjoying good wine and delicious food.
Just when I have, forgotten to cry,
With whom do I share this ample joy?
At times in life, when I'm trudging along,
With no one to whom I can belong;
I need nothing, but love that's true,
Which is why I am, in search of you!
-
FOR YOU
Author: Sheryl
I love you more than words could ever say,
I feel it growing in my heart each and every day,
All this love I feel
Has never felt so real
You give me something no one has ever given me,
It's something you cannot see
Love so strong, and so true
It makes me think of only you
This wonderful feeling you have given me
Makes me want to be with you endlessly.
I want to be in your arms
To feel your warm embrace
It makes me feel so safe from harm
Plus, I love to touch your face
I love to look into your eyes
To look through your disguise
To feel your warm hands within mine
As our fingers gently become entwined.
Your kisses so soft and sweet It makes me crave a thousand more
I wonder how your heart keeps a steady beat,
Because mine just soars.
I love the way you let me know
How much you love me so
I love how much you care
The love you show to me is beyond compare,
I love the way you smile
That compliments your sexy style
My eyes are kept on you all the while.
I love to hear you say "okay"
You say it at least once a day
I love the way you apologize
Because it always makes me realize
That what you did, was done unintentionally,
And that you still love me
Even though I'm strange
You don't want me to change
You say that I'm just right
Especially when we're about to fight.
I hate to see you mad
I hate to see you sad
It makes me feel so bad
What you feel, I feel
That's because our love is real
I hate to see you cry
To always have to wonder why?
I'm sorry I sometimes do the things I do
That always make you feel blue
I'm sorry if I hurt you so
My anger is sometimes hard to control.
I don't like when you feel insecure
Don't worry so much, because I'm sure
That no one can ever take your place
Because I love not only your beautiful face,
I also love the real you inside
There's no way I could have let you pass me by.
Don't worry you're the only one for me
You, and I, and everyone else can see
I love you with all my heart
No one could ever make us part.
Love
Author: Ash Bradley
Sometimes hidden, other times known.
Often true, perhaps not.
Sometimes feels like fire, other times not felt at all.
Can be cold as cyan sadness, or hot as crimson passion.
Perhaps today, possibly never.
Love.
Can be love at first sight, or built over time.
Can be revealed, or kept secret.
May be returned, or turned down.
Love.
Cannot be exclaimed by keeping to thyself,
Cannot be expressed by saying simple words of the mind,
The only way is by saying words from the heart.
Love.
Felt by the heart, not by the mind.
Cannot be explained or defined.
How can it be professed?
The answer lies in thy own heart.
The only way to find it
Is by looking for it thyself.
Love Abides
Author: Michelle Misty Hamlin
You picked me up and wrapped me
in a warm blanket of love.
You swept me up and dusted off
webs of hurts inside.
You gave me warmth
you sheltered me
from life's stormy skies.
Now I live in a home where love abides.
You held me tight.
Where there was darkness,
you gave me light.
Now the world seems real bright.
In the place where love abides,
you showered me with kisses,
saw through my heart to love,
chased away the darkness
with unconditional love.
Together we dwell forever
in the place where love abides.
Madly In Love
Author: Angelica Saranillo
I can't explain why I feel this way,
Everytime you would come my way
I always tremble, feelin nervous,
It's like I wanna fall down unconcious.
I don't know what so special about you
That made me fall in love with you.
Maybe that cute face of yours,
Your smiles and ways, yes of course
Everytime you're by my side
I'd like to stretch my hands open wide
And embrace you tight endlessly
But I can't, you might turn away from me.
So what can I do,
If this is what I feel for you
Can you blame me, if I have fallen
Madly in LOVE with you my darling.
-
Dreaming Of You
Author: Bobby E. Ioanes
When I close my eyes I dream of you.
Can't sleep at night 'cause I wanna be with you.
Don't want to live, don't want to cry
Without you by my side.
When I go to sleep at night
I ask God to make my days bright.
I know he will do it - I know it is true.
Because he knows I only want to be with you.
I hear your voice inside my head.
I can imagine us together again.
I know it will happen - I know it is true;
Because I asked God if I can be with you.
I see you and I together again;
Holding hands and feeling the pain.
What a beautiful feeling - I wish it were true.
But I am only dreaming - dreaming of you.
I COULD NEVER ASK FOR MORE
Author: Angel Joy
Gazing at the stars in a dark cold night
Uttering sweet words beneath pale moonlight
I wish you can see I wish you can hear
I wish you can kiss and hold me tight
I close my eyes and shed those tears
Thinking how far you are from me
Then I look above and see the stars
How they light, they glitter and sparkle
Despite how far they are by sight
I find myself smiling as I realize
That though distance between us
Kept us apart but only in body
And never in heart
You gave me reason to smile
You gave me reason to hope
You gave me so much and
I can never ask for more
And if I have one thing to thank right now
That's when you came into my life!
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I am glad you are enjoying the general poetry place lady Divine.
-
Wow this is an exciting and inspiring thread
You spoil us
Thank you
-
great to see you around Exotic.
feel free to post anywhere friend. it is your Camelot.
enjoy and have fun.
we also started a health and wellness center here at Camelot.
-
to good cd wow
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DO YOU BELIEVE ?
Author: Brian Mattes
Look into your heart and tell me what you see.
Am I still on your mind; are you thinking of me?
Do you wake in the night and let out a sigh?
Do you whisper my name and wonder why;
I can't be there with you tonight?
With you in my arms, holding you tight?
Do you believe in the miracle of Love
Do you believe in you
Do you believe in Love
Do you believe it could happen to you
Take me in your arms, don't ever leave
With you in my arms, I'll make you believe!
I believe in Love, always and forever.
I believe in us, you and I together.
I can't believe Love is pain,
You have everything to lose and nothing to gain.
Tell me you believe and look into my eyes...
Do you believe... I'm not like the other guys?
Hold on tight, for I've given you my heart;
Heart and soul from the very start.
For your Love, I'll wait forever
With all my heart, I believe we'll be together.
Tell me you believe Love is bliss,
That you can believe in the magic of our first kiss.
Answer me one question, now, before I leave...
Tell me, Do You Believe?
-
HAVE YOU EVER
Author: Anonymous
Have you ever been around someone
and just couldn't think?
Have you ever been around someone
lips, soft as a rose's pink?
Have you ever been around someone
heart as vast as the open sea?
Have you ever been around someone
together forever you wish to be?
Have you ever been around someone
into their eyes you gaze?
Have you ever been around someone
piercing the soul like the sun's rays?
Have you ever been around someone
and chose to run and hide?
Have you ever been around someone
scared of what feelins are inside?
Have you ever .........
EVERY TIME
Author: Amanda L. Garver
Every time I see you,
I want you more and more.
Every time you say, "Hi" to me,
my heart begins to soar.
Every time you touch me,
I pinch myself to see if I'm awake.
Every time you look into my eyes,
it's my heart you begin to take.
Every time I see you smile,
I wish that it was at me.
Every time I hear your voice
I regret that 'we' just could not be.
For the truth is... she likes you
so, I must take a seat.
For she has feelings deeper
than mine could never beat.
For since we are good friends,
I could never take you away.
So, I will look at you with a tear in my eye
hoping for the day...
When I can hold you by my side,
and my deepest feelings
I won't have to hide.
Heart Of Gold
Author: Angie Claxton
The happiest day of my life
was the day that I met you
Always loving and understanding
with a heart of gold too
You'd always show how much you care
with the loving things you do
From a tender kiss to a warm
embrace and whisper "I LOVE YOU"
We've had a lot of happy times
and also had some tears
but our love for each other
still remained strong,
throughout the years
All goods things have to
come to an end it's sad I know
but true though in my heart
I know that I will always love you
And your heart of gold.
ETERNAL LOVE
Author: Tracy Renee Shierling
I wonder if I dreamed of you-
if you would appear?
To make my nights full of love,
and always hold me near.
I wonder if I thought of you-
if you would feel it in your soul?
Like two spirits in the universe,
who always seem to know.
Even if the stars went black
and the sun were to shine no more.
They could find their way to each other,
no matter how far the shore.
Safely in each other's arms,
to bid the rest of time.
Finding Eternal Love
so many seek to find.
Caring for each other
through the worst of storms.
Leaning on the arms of love
and never need anymore.
This is how I feel for you,
I've known it all along.
You are my one true love
My world.. My heart.. My soul!
-
Dreaming
Author: Shannon Michaela Jaworski
I see ribbons of ecstacy
when you're sleeping.
You seduce me in slumber
as you dream beautiful dreams.
Currents of adoration surge through me
as I watch you breathe in peace,
And I synchronize my breaths with yours
in my own awakened dream.
I want to rest with you,
but I am too busy gazing at you
with the deepest of loves.
I bend forward, touch my lips to yours
with the softest of kisses
in the most fantastical fashion.
As I arise you smile as though
it were only a part of your dream.
I watch you rest some more,
until I sit beside you
and hold your gentle hands.
Then I lie beside you
and wrap your warm, relaxed body
in my arms and I close my eyes,
waiting to dream with you.
-
BECAUSE OF YOU
Author: Vishal Narsian
Because of you
my world is now whole,
Because of you
love lives in my soul.
Because of you
I have laughter in my eyes,
Because of you
I am no longer afraid of good-byes.
You are my pillar
my stone of strength,
With me through all seasons
and great times of length.
My love for you is pure
boundless through space and time,
it grows stronger everyday
knowing that you'll always be mine.
At the altar
I will joyously say 'I do',
for I have it all now
and it's all because of you.
Everything
Author: Trisha Kalif
You are everything I'll ever need
To make my life complete.
Since you came into my life
My every dream has come true.
I'll never love anyone
As much as I love you.
You are the light when there's darkness
Shining brightly through your eyes.
Yours are the arms I want to hold me
Through all of my nights.
My heart belongs to you only
The one true love in my life.
Our souls are intertwined
To always be like one.
May your every need be fulfilled
Without ever a question.
May every sadness you have ever felt
Turn into a smile.
Unselfishly I give myself to you
Never with hesitation
Because you and only you
For always will be,
My Partner, My Lover, My Friend
My Everything.
Feel the love without ever a doubt
It is yours for a lifetime.
I Love You Even More
Author: Anna Paul
I promise to hold you in my heart
Forever, as long as I live
Never forget the way you smile
Nor the love you give.
So energetic and full of life
That's how we were when we were young
We were so happy there together
Laughing under the sun.
When you left I was so sad
Emotions flooded my days
Tears constantly pouring down
But I covered the pain in so many ways.
Even now your not here
How can I bare to go on?
By remembering the promise I made
And how the distance makes our love strong.
All I do is wait for when you return
To feel your hand in mine
I will be patient
No matter how long the time.
Never leave my life
Or I'll be stripped to my core
Because I miss you every single day
And I love you even more.
How To Kiss
Author: Gabriel
How would I kiss you?
Let me describe the ways -
I would hold your gaze with mine
as I approach the corner of your mouth,
then softly kiss you there.
I would kiss your eyes, one by one,
with my fingers tease your chest
and press closer into your warmth
I would inhale the scent of your hair,
drawing a draught of you deeply
into my being, into my heart.
I would move to your ear and linger...
whispering your name with
the warmth of my breath,
then softly kiss you there.
I would kiss, lightly as a hush,
your cheek, then very slowly
returning to your mouth, pause,
then brush it with my burning lips.
Then softly I would kiss you there,
press you closer into my warmth
into my being, into my heart
and savor the aching anticipation
that wells in throbs within,
the want of more of you...
-
ANGEL AND HER LOVER
Author: Kathy P.
The lover sleeps and amid his dreams
His angel comes on sunlit beams.
To waken him with kisses sweet,
For her love for him is oh so deep.
She wakes him with her caresses light
Upon his skin and smiles so bright.
And in her eyes, he sees the love
She feels for him neath stars above.
He comes to her to gently place,
Kisses upon her neck and face.
To caress her body and touch her soul.
For together two become a whole.
The love they make is deep and true
And in this embrace their love renew.
When all is done and all's been said,
Upon her breasts he rests his head.
And hears her heart beat for him alone.
A greater love, he's never known.
-
Angel From Heaven
Author: Glenn W.
Once in a life time comes along your perfect mate.
Alike in every which way.
Hoping fate will allow us to start as friends.
Not knowing which bright star you are.
An angel from heaven is what you are.
With these eyes I see a majestic light.
By golly that is her. I knew I was right!
An angel from heaven is what you are.
Together we’ll always stay.
To watch every sunset from that day.
To each we'll be true the rest of our lives through.
An angel from heaven is what you are.
Judged by the size of my heart, and the character within.
He being a one woman man is what unfolds for him.
An angel from heaven is what you are.
Let's celebrate the second part of our lives together. Let's see how it's felt.
Just the thought of you darling, continues to make me melt!
An angel from heaven is who you are. And will always be!
-
AN ANGEL TO ME
Author: Patricia Annette Roden
The moment I opened my heart and let you in
I saw this great love starting to begin.
I opened my eyes to a vision of you
I hope, I pray your feelings are true.
I have loved and I have paid the cost
And I have felt the pain of the love I lost.
But, now, I think I have truly found
An Angel who walks upon the ground.
You go beyond all limits for me
Just to show your love endlessly.
I could search my whole life through
And never find another 'you'.
You are so special that I wanted you to know
I truly, completely love you so.
-
ANGEL FROM ABOVE
Author: Robert Small
Gazing into her eyes when we first met
I knew then she was heaven sent.
All I ever dreamed of, an angel from above.
She had no idea from the start
true love, I'd found in my heart.
One of a kind, Love that LASTS a lifetime
All I ever dreamed of, an angel from above.
Still, her smile, my breath it takes away
wanting, needing, to hold her, so much to say.
All my prayers answered when into my life she came
to me, she is everything.
All I ever dreamed of, an angel from above.
Like the moon, stars, morning sunrise
so much beauty, so much grace.
SHE'S even more through my eyes.
All I ever dreamed of, an angel from above.
Together, forever, I long to be
can you see, YOU'RE very precious and sweet.
The only one for me.
All I ever dreamed of, an angel from above.
Your gentle words, your tender touch, life meaning so much
wrapped tightly in each others arms I wish to be.
With you, I feel so free.
A vow to you I made, forever, you'll have my love.
All I ever dreamed of, an angel from above.
-
thanks lady Divine.
its a combined effort. we are all adding cool content daily and having tons of fun in the process.
-
General CD
Glorious collection youve made quite an impression with all these wondrous gifts you've bestowed upon us all
Blessings
-
My Endless Love
Author: Debbie T.
I loved you the moment
I saw your precious face.
You took hold of my heart;
Made it your own special place.
No one comes before you
And no one loves you more.
When you came into my life,
You made my spirit soar.
I can only love you
Until the day I die.
I pray you will be there
When it's time to say goodbye.
Take my hand and hold me;
Help my spirit fly.
Let your face be the last
I see before I die.
You are my endless love.
My Forever Love
Author: Kristy Trost Salazar
It wasn't til that day I met you
that I'd fall in love with someone
so special as you
when I first saw you,
I knew you were the one
When I look at you,
I just want to melt
When you hold me
I never want you to let go
I want to be in your arms forever
I dream that someday we will be one
I will always love you
Tell me you love me
I know you do
I know I love you!
I love for you is FOREVER!
My Forever Love
My First True Love
Author: Gail Poulter
So many years ago we loved
We love still
We will love forever
My heart was broken
Now it is mended
Each new day begins
And my heart sings
To the feel of your love
And the beat of your heart
At night I sleep
With you in my heart
It beats only for you my love
Each beat matched by yours
I long for the time
That we spend together
Each snatched moment
I will treasure
You eyes they shine
With your love for me
So tender and caring
So full of love
If I cannot have you to myself
I will treasure each moment that we have
Forever my darling
You are my soul
Our hearts are linked
By the bond we share
Each thought we have
We also care
To you my love
I give my All
My heart
And my soul
You are the stars in the sky
The wind on my face
The rain in my eyes
The tears on my cheeks
You are the biggest part of me
That I cannot deny
As I sit here with a tear in my eye
A tear of joy shed only for you
For all you are
For all you can be
This I am grateful for
Till the day I die
You are my world
You are my life
You are my soul.
-
More Beautiful Than The Seasons
Author: Brett White
To the girl whose beauty is present in all seasons
I tell you why you are beautiful, here are the reasons:
Your beauty extends into the heavens,
It goes on forever and never lessens.
Even when the clouds heighten
You are here and the world brightens.
You are like a fruit that constantly ripens
Your beauty continues to grow no mater what happens.
My fondness for you constantly deepens
Because every time I see you my heart starts to weaken.
You make everything else appear hollow
Where ever you are loveliness is sure to follow.
You shine so bright you cast your own shadow
A beauty that others would love to borrow.
But try as they might your beauty they will never catch
Because something like you they could never match.
Your beauty seems to increase with every breathe
It tests the limits my imagination can stretch.
It makes me question if what I am seeing is real
I only know it is true by the way that I feel.
Your beauty is so vast it can't be concealed
There is no hiding it, your beauty is always revealed.
The power of your beauty is the world's greatest gift
The heaviest boulder it could easily lift.
A girl this perfect I never knew
All that changed the moment I met you.
Heaven on Earth I was not aware
Until I met a girl that was crafted with such care.
You would be the answer to a prayer
If someone asked for something rare with beauty to spare.
If I had a choice I would choose this girl over air
or air can't compare to a girl not found elsewhere.
-
Love Is ...
Author: Incubus
It's having someone to be with
Someone you can't be without
It's wanting to hold them every second
That's what its all about.
It's the happiness you feel
When everythings gone wrong
It's the way you sit there
And think of crazy love songs.
It's the sadness in your heart
When you know their not there
It's the safeness you have
When you are feeling scared.
It's the hope you have
When everythings gone
It's the dreams you hold
When your alone.
It's having someone to talk to
When noone else is listening
It's being so in love
That nothing in your life is missing.
It's knowing I love you
And I'll love you forever
It's thinking of you every second
Thats what true love is!
Love Is The Greatest
Author: Izabella Eriksson
To love is to have someone special
One who you can always depend
To be there through the years
Sharing laughter and tears
As a partner, a lover, a friend.
To love is to make special memories
Of moments you love to recall
Of all the good things
That sharing life brings
Love is the greatest of all.
LOVE'S HEAVENLY BLISS
Author: Roger E. Eubanks
I want to remember when our souls
were entwined into one spirit.
I remember the soft touch of your breast
and the heavenly bliss into which I soared.
I think of you as we explore passions of love
so hot that fires rage within our souls.
I remember as we touched each other
in ways that only lovers can.
The passions that lift our souls into the heavens
will live forever in our hearts.
Our hearts will soar higher
than the highest mountain,
yes and even higher than the eagle.
Our quest for love has given peace
within our hearts and tranquility never dreamed.
Our love will satisfy our deepest desires
and our hearts will melt into one.
Let us remember the lust of our flesh
is the lust of our heart and soul,
for when we are as one
then our spirits shall soar within
the heavens and only peace can dwell within our souls.
-
Forever The Bonds
Author: Hope Smith
Whenever you are down
Remember I am here
Hoping to lift spirits
With loving cheer
In the good times or bad
Love always remains
With forever bonds
My heart contains
Here if ever you need me
I want to let you know
Seeds of friendship
Continue to grow
Its the bright rays of hope
You shall come to see
Nothing will replace
Friendship loyalty
Promises are guaranteed
No matter how far apart
I will keep you always
Close to my heart.
Forever Love
Author: Adam Matthew Stein
I never asked
For a blessing like you.
Like I've spoken to God
And my wishes came true.
I asked for a person
To love and to hold.
To be loyal and faithful
Not angry and cold.
God placed you on Earth
As I quested to find,
The one who would be there
So sweet and so kind.
In my wildest dreams
I would have denied.
That something so perfect
Could at all be supplied.
You have such a sweet face
But you are so much more.
You're my friend and I love you.
Your flaws I ignore.
With this small, simple statement
I give you and pray,
That you'll love me forever,
And forever you'll stay.
FOREVER
Author: Megan K.
Forever takes me by a minute,
While I’m here with you.
I’m falling even more in love,
With everything you do.
Hold me in your arms,
Look deep into my eyes,
Don’t turn away and let me go,
Don’t ever tell me lies.
I swear I’ll never loose you,
In my arms I’ll always hold.
I’ll never let you slip away,
And leave nothing left untold.
There aren’t enough hours,
In each passing day,
To find all the words,
I wish I could say.
Your kiss will last forever,
Your touch forever warm.
You’ll guide me to the sunlight,
And shield me from the storm.
This is what I’m saying,
With everything that’s true,
I swear on my life,
That I really do love you.
FOREVER MY LOVE WILL BE
Author: Anthony Lane Ferguson
When troubles bring you down
and you don't know what to do,
just look inside your heart
and you'll know that I love you.
Every one has a destiny to find,
looking in your eyes I have found mine.
You're all I ever wanted,
you're all I'll ever need.
I will be yours always,
you will have my love for eternity.
-
This thread is magical and intensely heartfelt. I love the passionate empathic hearts that wrote all of these wondrous pieces
General CD Thank you for these precious treasures
Blessings
thanks lady Divine.
we keep building our poetry collection.
folks can stop by with one simple click and enjoy all this amazing poetry at Camelot.
all in one place and all available with one simple click.
-
This thread is magical and intensely heartfelt. I love the passionate empathic hearts that wrote all of these wondrous pieces
General CD Thank you for these precious treasures
Blessings
-
WELCOME TO GENERAL POETRY LOUNGE WELCOME TO GENERAL POETRY LOUNGE WELCOME TO GENERAL POETRY LOUNGE
-
DANCING STARS
Author: Shawn Mikula
As into your eyes I longingly gaze,
Like looking into the stars above,
Such dazzling beauty does ever amaze,
The stars, they dance, cause I'm in love.
As onto your sweet lips I gently kiss thee,
Tasting a fruit that seems forbidden,
You unleash bonds that set me free,
Awaken emotions that long were hidden.
And as into your bosom I find rest,
A sanctuary for my tumultuous soul,
I certainly count myself among the blessed,
To have found the one that makes me whole.
And throughout this universe I dare to say,
There is not another that could my heart so sway.
In Love Once Again
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Save me a place in your heart.
Let me stay ~ never to part.
You'd be my hero,
By now you should know
That I'll save you a place
In my heart...
Shall I say it over again
To the tune of a gentle refrain?
As we walk in the sun
We'll be as one,
You and I together
Falling in love once again.
Love Sonnet
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Fond words I write within my prose
Sweet words of love for you alone
My heart cries out where'er I go
For you to be my very own.
My mind is with you, rain or snow
And when the winter breezes blow
Sometimes I'm high, often I'm low,
All because I love you so.
Life is short as you well know
So meet me where the lily grows
Without your love, there is no prose
No words come from a dying rose.
My heart is yours, for you to own
I sing love songs for you alone.
Love Sonnet
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Can you see how I adore you?
Bliss brings lovelight to my eyes
You speak ~ I hear a symphony
Flowers dance, the bluebird flies.
When first we met, I just knew
No other soulmate could there be
To settle deep within my heart
And cherish its key eternally.
Playing our parts for all to see ...
We are "Sylvia and Dante Rossetti"
Whene'er we talk, where'er we walk
Moon and stars sprinkle confetti.
Bliss brings lovelight, never gloom
Shall we dance where roses bloom?
-
A CUTE POEM FOR A CUTE GIRL
Author: Anonymous
You changed my world with a blink of an eye
That is something that I can not deny
You put my soul from worst to best
That is why I treasure you my dearest Marites
You just don't know what you have done for me
You even pushed me to the best that I can be
You really are an angel sent from above
To take care of me and shower with love
When I'm with you I will not cry even a single a tear
And your touch have chased away all of my fear
You have given me a life that I could live worthwhile
It is even better everytime you smile
It so magical those things you've made
To bring back my faith that almost fade
Now my life is a dream come true
It all began when I was loved by you
Now I have found what I am looking for
It's you and your love and nothing more
Co'z you have given me this feeling of contentment
In my life something I've never felt
I wish I could talk 'til the end of day
But now I'm running out of things to say
So I'll end by the line you already know
"I LOVE YOU" more than what I could show.
ALL OVER AGAIN
Author: Cheryl Hornbeck
Last night I fell in love with you
All over again,
More deeply in love,
Than ever before.
No one has ever expressed their love for me
With such beautiful and kind words.
Last night I fell in love with you
All over again,
With such stronger faith
Than ever before.
Knowing that you will always be there for me
When dark shadows enter my life.
Last night I fell in love with you
All over again
With a stronger friendship
Than ever before
When ever I need a tender shoulder to cry on
I know you will wipe away the tears
Last night I feel in love with you
All over again
With more respect
Than ever before
I look up to you and admire your strength
In turn you have strengthen me
Last I feel in love with you
All over again
With such care
Than ever before
Now I truly believe how much you care for me
You have given me life.
Last night I fell in love with you
All over again
With more happiness
Than ever before
You have brought back to me smiles and laughter
Through your loving eyes.
Last night I fell in love with you
All over again
With more love
Than ever before
For the first time in a long time
I have really felt love.
ALL I SEE IS YOU
Author: Kelly Lobdell
I remember us,
the way we used to be,
I'd hold you in my arms,
your smile so sweet to me,
But now when I see you,
you look right through me,
I feel so alone now,
but when I close my eyes...
...All I see is you.
The love we used to share,
gone up in whirl winds,
will I ever love,
or ever live again,
I am tired of crying,
and I am done trying,
To remember all about you,
but when I close my eyes...
...All I see is you.
All the love I am sending,
the memories I won't sell,
I know there must be an ending,
to the story I will tell,
I dream only of your love,
and happiness in life,
I try not to think of you,
but when I close my eyes...
...All I see is you.
-
Intermezzo Of My Soul
Author: Joyce Hemsley
I searched for you
and I found you
Intermezzo of my soul.
I build my life around you
Mine, is a loving role.
I will cling to you forever
No hope without your call,
Be here in winter weather
in summer and in Fall.
I searched for you
And I found you, so come
Now make me whole,
Eager arms await you,
Intermezzo of my soul.
HOPE IS A THING WITH FEATHERS
Author: Emily Dickinson
Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune without words
And never stops at all.
And sweetest, in the gale, is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That keeps so many warm.
I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea
Yet, never, in extremity
It ask a crumb of me.
I've Dreamed of Loving You for Many Years
Author: Nicholas Gordon
I've dreamed of loving you for many years,
Loving you each day and night, each hour,
Loving till you flow into my tears,
And I into the garden where you flower.
Of course I must be me, as you are you,
But just as bushes planted side by side
So intertwine one cannot tell they're two,
We will through love and time be unified.
So have I dreamed, though we have been apart
So long that I of life with you despaired,
Holding wounded hope within my heart
That through these frozen years it might be spared.
The world is a redaction of the dream.
Our greatest pain deep longings shall redeem.
Joy Of My Heart
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Dear Joy of my heart,
I am weary ~ so weary
of thinking of you.
Memories linger in my head,
memoirs start me thinking
love could never be dead.
I see a picture quite clearly
of your two eyes of blue,
I tell you now with sincerity
there is no forgetting you,
because I love you dearly,
I always thought you knew.
Dear Joy of my heart,
I am weary ~ so weary
of thinking of you.
Memory of Roses
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Sorrow I feel, for I must leave you
standing in the midnight air;
my heart belongs to a family of roses,
your heart belongs to a maiden fair.
Each of us made our promises
to keep the vows and keep them well.
I cannot stay, I must not linger,
the time has come to say farewell.
I shall miss your kindly gestures
cheering this heart and soul of mine.
Someday soon we will surely meet
when romance and music combine.
Until then, my wonderful one,
You will sleep deep within my mind.
I kiss you now... for I am leaving
to greet the roses I left behind.
-
Every Sunset
Author: Jessica Voyles
Meeting you
was pure destiny,
You and I
were ment to be.
Maybe not now
but someday soon,
We'll meet not under the sun
but beneath the moon.
We'll watch the stars
'till they fade away,
but we won't fade
together we'll always stay.
This is the day
I'm waiting for,
from that day
I'll love you more and more.
I can't wait to watch
the sun set with you,
every sunset from that day
'till the rest of
our lives are through.
Let Me Be The One
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Let me be your sun
I will shine when day is done
Let me be the one.
Love for you I cannot hide
And a lake of tears I've cried.
Was love but a dream
With a passion so extreme?
Fairytales are dreams!
I need you here, you need me
This is our reality.
Rapture fills the air
When I see you standing there
Smiling ~ debonair.
Come home to me, always stay
Music sweet will charm each day.
Pain will float away
And we'll dance to love's refrain
Danube Waltz again.
Red parasol will unfold
Two "gentle doves" to behold.
... So ...
Let me be your sun
I will shine when day is done
Let me be the one.
Love for you I cannot hide
And a lake of tears I've cried.
LONELY HEART
Author: Lady Of Knight
If I had a heart I'm sure it would say
How lonely its been since you went away,
With no one to snuggle and no one to hold.
I guess I'll adjust, or so I've been told.
It's hard to sit back as the line seems to grow
And watch all the flirting, when deep down I know
There's nobody there who can know your heart
Or feel your thoughts even though apart.
To know your thoughts with just one word
Without the others being heard.
To feel your heart and share what you love
Like some magic secret from up above.
The music flows and so do the smiles
From you to them across the miles.
Even our songs that were special there
Are followed by smiles for all to share.
I guess it's me... I just don't understand
You told me you loved me and held my hand.
How can I trust anything you say,
When I'm yesterdays news the very next day.
If I had a heart it would beat in place
Instead of having this empty space.
And yours would beat along with mine,
And I'd be yours til the end of time.
LOVE, LOVE
What is the glory far above
All else in human life?
Love! Love!
There is no form in which the fire
Of love its traces has impressed not.
Man lives far more in love's desire
Than by life's breath, soon possessed not.
If all that lives nust love or lie,
All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky,
With one consent, to
Heaven cry
That the glory far above
All else in life is--
Love! O, Love!
Thou melancholy thought, which art
So fluttering and so sweet, to thee
When did I give the liberty
Thus to afflict my heart?
What is the cause of this new power
Which doth my fevered being move,
Momently raging more and more?
What subtle pain is kindled now,
Which from my heart doth overflow
Into my senses?
Love! O, Love!
In Heaven's Rendezvous
Author: Joyce Hemsley
The musical nightingale told me
that you are thinking about me
just as I am thinking of you...
breezes thro' the trees whispered
that sometime between sunset and sunrise,
we will meet in Heaven's rendezvous.
Ah - and the waning moon promised
you would be there anon, holding me
tenderly - singing our love song.
I always believe the harvest moon
also the gentle nocturnal breeze.
And how could a nightingale ever lie?
So tonight will be our night of nights
with a million bright stars in the sky.
-
IF THERE WERE NO TOMMOROW
Author: DR Meyst
I would tell you today
That you are the one that fills my life
Whose smile I cannot wait to see
Whose arms I long to have wrapped around me
Whose lips I live to kiss
Softly, passionately, in every way.
I would want you to know
That you make my heart skip a beat
You fill my soul with contentment
You brighten my dark skies
You fill my days and nights
With stars, hopes, and cascading dreams.
I would want you to see
How beautiful the world looks with your eyes through mine
Your eyes light up the sky
Your touch paints the Heavens
Your kiss creates amazing rainbows
Of beauty, sunshine, and life.
I would want you to understand
That I have always loved you
Before I knew there was you
Before our eyes ever met
Before I found in you
Happiness, completeness, and passion.
If there were no tomorrow
I would tell you
That you are the greatest gift in my life
Whose love I cherish above all else
You sustain me with
Your laughter, love, and friendship
Before there was no knowing
I'd tell you I love you infinitely, without boundaries, and beyond time.
FLAMES OF PASSION
Author: Sangeetha C.R.
What is this, if not passion
The feeling of something unusual
Waiting to be caressed, wanting to explode,
What if I get that heavenly touch
For which my body has been aching
Will I remain what I am
Or will the entwining of the bodies
Lead me to something ethereal
I am confused, do not know how to react
But what I know is that I yearn for that touch
A soothing touch of caress
And a wild sensation of fulfillment.
FOREVER
Author: Mary Grace Baylosis
The language of true love is forever
That's why love goes away never
Love comes to me in the form of someone like you
And in my heart I know what I feel is true
I would give up everything to spend forever with you
For forever is worth leaving behind everything I have and do
Sad to say, forever is not meant for you and me
I could never have your heart for free
You're out of reach and I'm very far behind
To dream of you and me forever, I must be out of my mind
But I'd give up forever to have you now
One moment in time is enough for me to spend with you somehow
For this much is true and this much I know
A single moment of true joy is more powerful than a lifetime of sorrow
How I'd love to have you forever, but what's forever for
Tomorrow might not come anymore.
Forever And Always
Author: Kasey Comfort
It started out simple
like something new
I knew from the beginning
there was just something about you.
I loved the way you smiled
and the way you laughed
We were on different roads
until the roads came to one path.
When you asked me out
the butterflies came
they came in my heart
and I was never the same.
We became one
at the same time we were best friends
You said "Forever and always"
and I thought it would never end.
It was like that for a while
and I lived for your kiss
you told me I was beautiful
and I felt such total bliss.
But one night, your mind changed
and you turned it all around
You brought me up so high
just to tear me back down.
After that it was never the same
and I cried for all those days
now I think I finally realize
forever doesn't mean for always.
-
A TOUCH NEVER FELT
Author: Carola Dittmann McJunkin
How can you ache and crave for someone's touch
When you have never felt it?
I do this for yours, though,
And the yearning grows more each day
I have never wanted anything in my life
As much as I want you
When you whisper such sweet love
In my ear when we talk
You make me melt into a puddle
Of complete helplessness
You have become my every waking thought
And my every dream at night
I breathe in so hard
Trying to catch my breath when we can't talk
I close my eyes so tight
Hoping when I open them you will be there
But I know I have to wait
Until the time is right
It seems so far away
That I think I am losing my mind
I want to breathe in your scent
And keep it with me all day long
I want to taste your love for me
By kissing your sweet lips
I want to feel your body next to me
So when you leave for awhile I can hold on
I just want you to know
That I really do love you
When the day comes and we are together
You will always know and feel this
I will always hug, kiss and love you
Every moment of the day and night
...You will never have another touch unfelt
BECAUSE OF YOU
Author: Starburst
I’ve been in darkness for so long just waiting for the light,
And now that you have come my way, my days don’t seem like nights.
I’m glad I’m finally overcome my fear of the other side,
Thank you for showing me the way, by taking me on this ride.
I’ve never really felt this way about a guy before,
You’ve truly touched me deep inside, you’ve opened, unlocked, the door.
I know it’s nothing serious, but surely it’s a start,
You’ve treated me so equally, I feel it in my heart.
And even if this does not work, I’m glad I’ve had this chance,
To see how great you truly are, even just for a glance.
We never know what’ll come of this, it really just depends,
I’m glad we’re taking the first step, we’re becoming better friends.
With you I never have to guess just how you really feel,
You talk to me about the facts and tell me what’s the deal.
With you I feel so comfortable, like nothing can go wrong,
I get this tingly feeling inside, you sing to me like a song.
The fact that you are older, really did freak me out,
But you treat me like I’m your age, now I’m rid of all my doubts.
I’m trying to live in the moment, by forgetting about the past,
And so far it’s been working, and it’s really been a blast.
So hopefully from this day forth, I’ll know just what to do,
If ever I come across a guy, another guy like you.
Comfort Of Your Love
Author: Sunday B. Fakus
You buried my shame in the depth of the sea
And cast my fears to the bed of the ocean.
You carried my hopes to the end of the earth
And enriched my pride with the fruits of love.
As far as the east is from the west,
You removed past guilt from my mind.
As far as the heaven is from the earth,
You sever shame from the contents of my thoughts.
As you build up my faith, mountain high,
You deeply warm my heart with a wondrous smile.
And now, being crowned in the comfort of your love,
You make me rollick in the safety of your arms.
Count The Ways
Author: Ebbe Perales
Count the ways
The endless hours and the days
My heart will pain and ache for you
There’s nothing else that I can do
Nothing more I want than this
Love, comfort, peace and bliss
Vast is your love vast is your heart
From you I will never part
I know that we will never be
But I dream of you so constantly
The times my eyes have cried their tears
The times I gave into my fears
The loneliness I feel inside
I hope this feeling will subside
When I see you my heart skips a beat
I crave the day I feel your
I only need you to be complete touch
I want to hold you oh so much
I close my eyes and see your face
My time with you will not erase
Your tender lips, your graceful walk
Your loving smile, the way you talk
So count the ways
The endless hours and the days
I have spent on loving you
If you only had a clue
-
BROKEN DREAMS
Author: Tamra L. Noe
I love you more than life itself
But I’m afraid to love.
My heart is like the fragile wings
Of a tiny little dove.
I'm scared to get too close.
I feel that I can't win.
You'll love me for a little while
Then you'll set me free again.
I've lived so long on hopes and dreams
I don't know what to do.
I don't think I can trust my heart,
For it belongs to you.
I know you'll only hurt me
Yet, I still keep running back.
Between the paths of our hearts
There's a worn and beaten track.
You've got my heart held on a string.
It’s breaking right in two.
Enough belongs to me -to hurt-
The rest belongs to you.
I know that somewhere in your heart
There is a place for me.
I just don't know how to find it
And there's no way to make you see.
I can only hope that someday
You'll wake up and you'll find,
That while my heart belongs to yours,
Yours, too, belongs to mine.
-
HE Touches Me
Author: Eliza Dunn
He touches me in mysterious ways
Only my heart can understand.
The feelings he evokes when his eyes meet mine
Are almost more than I can stand.
He gently breathes, I close my eyes
And feel his love flow softly over me
Like a babbling brook, winding its way
Through the forest; An endless stream to the sea.
The stars in the sky spell out his name,
As the clouds come racing in
To hold him closer; As if even they,
Can not be without him.
He only has to speak my name
And my fragile heart skips a beat
And as his tender words are uttered,
All my doubts and troubled fears
Are put to sleep.
He touches me and I'm filled
With the most warm and wondrous light
It's as if before him, I was just as dark
As the dead of the longest night.
Just to gaze into his eyes
And feel his heart beat with mine,
It's all I'll ever, ever ask until the end of time!
A RED, RED ROSE
Author: Robert Burns
O my luve's like a red, red rose.
That's newly sprung in June;
O my luve's like a melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will love thee still, my Dear,
Till a'the seas gang dry.
Till a'the seas gang dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my Dear,
While the sands o'life shall run.
And fare thee weel my only Luve!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!
Desires Of You
Author: Dustin Lowe
Spoken words alone cannot express,
The love I have for you.
The written art of love is what convinces
Myself, that you are the one for me.
As I gaze into your eyes
With every movement of your listless ways,
The grasping of your hand,
The warmth of your heart
I believe that you can make me feel like no other.
Once I believed that love was only a fable,
Configured in the mind, planted by others.
Then there was you.
Like a flower in bloom, wow, what a dream come true!
There are times we you make me happy,
There are times when you make me blue,
But what is even worse, is when
I don't get to see you...
AUTUMN
Author: Connor James Fitzpatrick
I have fallen somewhere in your life,
Did I trip, did I stumble or did I jump?
Does it matter as long as I am here?
I have fallen somewhere in your heart,
Through a crack in that armor you wear so well,
But does it really matter as long as I am here now?
I realize that my place here is precarious at best,
But I will do what I can to remain balanced,
For I don’t want to fall so far as can’t be seen.
And I’m no fool to not recognize that I have company here,
He sits so close I can smell the western horizon on him,
But is he your true reason here, or is it time for a past love to win?
I don’t have the common sense any longer to know if I should leave,
But patience is a virtue I know all too well, and she sits with me now.
I’m almost drowned out by him and his wily little ways,
But who here is begging for forgiveness, you or me?
It’s funny how I bleed and you never really see it.
-
First Love
Author: Jade Peacock
Your lips speak soft sweetness
Your touch a cool caress
I am lost in your magic
My heart beats within your chest.
..I think of you each morning
And dream of you each night
I think of your arms being around me
And cannot express my delight.
Never have I fallen
But I am quickly on my way
You hold a heart in your hands
That has never before been given away.
Heart To Heart
Author: Lilaneyah
Sometimes in this lifetime,
we meet a special soul,
who fills our very essence,
to almost overflow,
we drink the cup of friendship,
it tastes like ruby wine,
and you know within your heart,
this meeting was Divine.
This soul that lives within your heart,
no distance can prevail,
an inner spark, within the heart,
becomes a Holy Grail,
the starting of a journey,
in which you both shall be,
a reflection of each other,
for all eternity.
Dreamer
Author: Blanca Mendoza
Lazy summers, cold winter nights
are always alright, since I have you holding me tight.
I see that sparkle in your eyes,
through the dimness of the candlelight
you smile at me, then teasingly back your eyes.
We laugh, then you give me the sign,
and sip what's left of the wine,
your lips now meet mine, your sweet taste gets me every time.
We sit by the fire,
I see and feel the love in your eyes
Our desire grows higher, then our bodys entwine
For the first time.
It isn't a game and true love is the name.
It's an everlasting love we endure
a love, so clean and so pure.
A love so deep yet unseen.
I wake up with tears in my eyes
Once again... it was just a dream,
A cold winter night,
I spend once again...
Don't Leave
Author: Femi Escalante
What would I do if you leave?
I'd miss you, I believe
That's what I'd do if you leave
Emotions are kept under my sleeve
So my prayers to you I'd give
Please stay a bit longer
For I may see you again never
And you leaving isn't for the better
Surely I'd miss you sooner or later
Everyday I miss you more and more
It makes my heart feel so sore
Thinking of the way things were,
I'd like to go back
to the times we had before.
-
COLOUR OF A BUTTERFLY
Your butterfly has truly emerged.
Bright, beautiful, symmetrical.
Blazing with colour.
Pinks for our love.
Deep reds for our hearts,
Our passions, our lips.
Yellows for our glow, our Light,
Our Spirits, our beautiful Sun.Author: Poetrymad
Blues for our clear skies,
Our peace, our calm, your eyes.
Greens for our earth, our plants,
Our nature that surrounds
Our beautiful little bridge
That you built.
With hearts bonded and melted,
With pure love and sexiness,
With sheer poetry and excitement
Come fly with me.
DEEPEST DESIRE
Author: Shy Girl
As the sun rises in the East
So the breaking dawn of my love begins
As the sun sets in the West
I am overwhelmed with a burning desire
A desire locked down deep inside
One that cannot be concealed anymore
I long for one sweet kiss to quench my thirst
I long for one tender touch that will last a lifetime
At the end of it all you are my deepest desire!
I love you not today nor tomorrow but forever!
-
thank you lady Divine.
glad you are enjoying the great poetry.
-
This is exciting love it!
-
BUTTERFLIES
Author: Mandy Marie Fogelman
Suddenly I get this feeling
My mind draws a blank
My hands are slightly shaking
My heart begins to race
I feel like I'm losing control
I'm nervous inside and out
I have an unexplainable feeling
I wish I could figure this out
These butterflies inside of me
Keep fluttering all throughout
I thought they were gone for good
I didn't know they could come out
It must be the way
You get to me like you do
The way you make me feel
The way I love you like I do...
DREAMS OF LOVE
Author: Kathie Moore
Dreams take me to another place and time
when my life had reason and rhyme.
I was so happy and in love...
God sent me a gentle 'dove'
He loved me so, more than anyone
I will ever again know.
The talks we had while lying in bed...
he gently caressed my face and head.
I could 'feel' the love without
a word being said...
I miss those times, those precious days
but no one can take the memories away
'My Angel' he will always be...
from now until eternity...
Beating Of Hearts
Author: Inpa
.thump thump, thump thump .
One heart alone, makes but a single beat
A sound so low and incomplete
A heart all alone, waiting to be heard
Knows not the beauty or songs of singing birds
One heart all alone, knows not love or tenderness
It feels nothing, but has emptiness
A heart alone, searches for its mate
It waits, trust fate, contemplates
Until by chance another beat it hears
That sound it has longed for all these years
Like the timbre of a bass drum
It hears an answer, another thrum
Two hearts are beating, strong and true
The sound grows louder, waiting is through
Two hearts are beating, within one another
Searching is over, they have found that lover
Two hearts are beating, they grow and grow
Together forever, never wanting to go
Two hearts are beating, as the sun goes down
A love true, a love strong, both are bound
And as the sound gently fades into night
Two hearts are beating, this they know is just right
thump thump, thump thump ...
Clouds Of Love
Author: Weisskamp
On the night I met you,
my heart stoped beating
it froze with with desire,
at what I was seeing.
On this night for us
that shoud'nt have been,
what lay ahead nobody could see.
You alone started these flames
of wanting desire,
a million seas couldn't quench the fire.
But love isn't always the easy friend,
you have to sail the storm
to recieve the love you send.
So till the day comes
that these arms can hold you near,
I'll sail the storms and watch
as the clouds disapear.
-
A TOUCH NEVER FELT
Author: Carola Dittmann McJunkin
How can you ache and crave for someone's touch
When you have never felt it?
I do this for yours, though,
And the yearning grows more each day
I have never wanted anything in my life
As much as I want you
When you whisper such sweet love
In my ear when we talk
You make me melt into a puddle
Of complete helplessness
You have become my every waking thought
And my every dream at night
I breathe in so hard
Trying to catch my breath when we can't talk
I close my eyes so tight
Hoping when I open them you will be there
But I know I have to wait
Until the time is right
It seems so far away
That I think I am losing my mind
I want to breathe in your scent
And keep it with me all day long
I want to taste your love for me
By kissing your sweet lips
I want to feel your body next to me
So when you leave for awhile I can hold on
I just want you to know
That I really do love you
When the day comes and we are together
You will always know and feel this
I will always hug, kiss and love you
Every moment of the day and night
...You will never have another touch unfelt
ALL MY LIFE
Author: Raven
It was not so long ago
when I thought I'd never meet someone like you.
Wrong was I, thinking I'm in control
Believing I'd never fall.
All my life I thought no one would
melt a heart like mine, a heart so cold,
a heart hardened by the past,
protected by shields so vast.
Slowly I was falling
without even knowing.
Only to find out too late
I have no choice but to accept my fate.
I could dream, I suppose
forever, I could hope
there will never be any 'us', that's our destiny
so I wake up to reality.
I lied when I said
I didn't love you,
that my feelings for you
are through.
I lied
not because I wanted to
but because I love you
and I still do.
I wouldn't do a thing to hurt you
but I just have to let go.
I can't hold on much longer
'coz for us there's no forever.
Beautiful Dream
Author: Elisha Bancer
Like wings of a hummingbird
My heart flutters feverishly
My passion burning like fire
I feel heat where my lungs would be
From deep down in my soul
To the ends of every strand of hair
I quiver with excitement
Of the feeling of you being there
I close my eyes
And take you in
I smell your smell
I feel your skin
My fingers tremble
My toes begin to curl
My breathing heavy’s
My thoughts start to whirl
I reach out my hand
To touch your sweet lips
The thought of you near me
Makes my heartbeat skip
My hand swoops through the air
Like a hawk on its prey
I reach for you and feel for you
But to my hands dismay
There’s nothing there but dust and air
To grab and pull my way
I hold my breath and loosen my grip
My heart goes cold and gray
I fill my lungs with empty air
That’s cold and stings like ice
My heartbeat slows and the rhythm dies
And tears fall once, then twice
The hours, days and weeks of time
Cannot erase our love
That longing for your touch and kiss
Recreate all that I know of
My mind plays tricks, my eyes see you
I get caught up in what seems
The memory that I have of you
Creates the fantasy in my dreams
Even though I hate to wake
And find you nowhere near
If dreams are all I have of you
I’ll dream to feel you here.
BELIEVE IN YOUR HEART
Author: Unknown
Believe in your heart that
something wonderful is about to happen.
Love your life.
Believe in your own powers,
and your own potential,
and in your own innate goodness.
Wake every morning
with the awe of just being alive.
Discover each day the magnificent,
awesome beauty in the world.
Explore and embrace life in yourself
and in everyone you see each day.
Reach within to find your own specialness.
Amaze yourself and rouse those around you
to the potential of each new day.
Don't be afraid to admit
that you are less than perfect;
this is the essence of your humanity.
Let those who love you help you.
Trust enough to be able to take.
Look with hope to the horizon of today,
for today is all we truly have.
Live this day well.
Let a little sun out as well as in.
Create your own rainbows.
Be open to all your possibilities;
all possibilities and Miracles.
-
A WHISPER SWEET
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Basket full of pretty posies
from the "you" I love,
both of us to talk together
under stars above.
A whisper sweet discloses
the magic that you feel,
I'm delighted with the roses,
roses tell me love is real.
We sing a song of rainbows
to the tune of a lullaby,
you and I both wearing halos
so in love ~ as time goes by.
As A Year Begins
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Sweet smiles told no lie
as we gazed eye to eye,
and I fell in his arms
at a New Year revelry.
A floral arrangement
a ring for engagement
the joyous bells echoed
their message to me.
Guarding me, guiding me,
he gave all his love to me;
I felt so safe in his hands,
we made wedding plans.
Our love stayed alive,
as past years hurried by,
still we'd gaze eye to eye
whispering tenderly.
How golden the memory
sheer magic it weaves,
and as a New Year begins
"I still hear violins".
-
A Passionate Kiss
Author: Gabriela
A passionate night between me and you
I can't begin to tell you the things I want to do.
First we can dim the lights and get closer.....
No, wait, that's too fast, let's go back
and move a little slower.
I'll kiss your lips that are so soft and sweet,
then move on to your cheek that's so smooth and unique.
Then I'll move right along that little ear of yours...
Whoa... my, my... let me move along your chest...
Uh, oh I missed a spot, let me move back up to the neck
As I move my tongue around and around
you start to feel it as I go down slowly
and as I kiss your chest your hands go up
...but I'm not finished yet....
I go further down towards your navel...
As I move down past your waist line I begin to kiss....
Oh, I just wake up to realize it's a dream !
A passionate dream fueled by my deep love for you.
-
A Moment To Remember
Author: Trista Moss
A place we go
to let us know
that our love is always true
and that we will never be blue.
A memory on the edge of time
A place where we are so sublime,
A distant dream on a midnights eve
somewhere far from acknowledged leaves.
A time in which we fell deeper in love
just like to turtle doves.
We sang our songs and gave our token
to remember one single moment.
All Because of You
Author: Kate Reneigh Woodruff
I awake each day with a smile
And greet it with a laugh;
The world is a treasure to me
Because of you.
Every time I think of something sad,
I replace the thought - with you!
My mind is instantly changed
And my heart is filled with gladness.
Every breath I take is meant for you,
I live this life surrounded in joy
And I bathe in the promise of your love,
My soul belongs to you.
Each time I see something beautiful
I want to take it and bring it to you;
My life has so much meaning now
All because of you.
Always
Author: Sally Robertson
I took your love for granted,
Could not see through my blind eyes,
I did not know how much I loved you,
Now, in pain, I realize.
You've found someone, I know you, Love,
But the flame you lit burns on,
I've really got to let you go,
I must accept... you're gone.
I wish I could just rewind time
To how it was before,
But however much she loves you now,
I will always love you more.
-
A New Life Was Waiting
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Inviting - exciting - emotion
with power I had never known,
a world of unchained devotion
because you were my very own.
I had fallen in love with you.
Together we sailed in springtime
to an isle beyond seas of blue,
and when we returned, a new life
was waiting, in a valley of dreams
where I first fell in love with you.
All Dreamers Understand
Author: Joyce Hemsley
Our love was a romantic book
from the sacred day we met,
your gentle charm enthralled me
from then-on the scene was set:
A sunny day, a rainy day,
it mattered not to me,
if I could see your happy face
and walk and talk with thee.
When snow was falling from the sky
and chilly breezes blew,
were it not for your embrace
I'd pine the whole day through.
So now we are alone my love
I offer you my hand,
to join with yours in wedlock
as all "dreamers" understand.
-
A FINE ROMANCE
Author: Joyce Hemsley
One day, your arms will possess me,
One day, you will ask for my hand,
One day, the ring will be shining,
In the sun as we walk thro' the sand.
One day, romance will caress me,
One day, the church bells will chime,
And we will go cruising together forever
For the love of my dreams will be mine.
A Gentle Touch
Author: Danyka A. Hoover
A gentle brush of his fingers,
Sending shivers down my spine.
In the love I see in his eyes,
Is a love that equals mine.
He greets me with a smile,
And leaves me with a kiss.
If he were to ever leave me,
I couldn't imagine what I'd miss.
Maybe it's his touch,
Or the way he makes me feel.
But whatever it is,
I'm head over heels.
ALL I HAVE TO GIVE
Author: Cara G. Stanfield
You're the first thing I think of
Each morning when I rise.
You're the last thing I think of
Each night when I close my eyes.
You're in each thought I have
And every breath I take.
My feelings are growing stronger
With every move I make.
I want to prove I love you
But that's the hardest part.
So, I'm giving all I have to give
To you... I give my heart.
Absence
Author: Phillip Varady Sr. (Excerpted from The Stonebearers)
My love is like the sun that warms me when I am cold,
And like the cool water of the brook that refreshes me.
My love knows the secret pleasures of my soul,
And delights with me in fulfilling them.
Who is my love but the soul of my soul,
And the reason for every beat of my heart.
Who fills me with life in the joy of her presence,
And returns to me more than I have given.
Come to me, my love, I die without you.
Each day is eternity, waiting for your touch.
Remove the tears from my eyes and the ache in my heart,
Be closer than my breath, all my days, all my nights.
-
A DREAMER OF DREAMS
Author: Gloria Jean Berry
You have come to me from a distant land,
Dreamer of dreams, to fill my hearts desire,
Sweet music flowing from your nimble hand
That plays within... to light my passion's fire.
A symphony of word and thought you bring.
Excitement builds upon crescendo's sound,
Brought forth in tones to make my light heart sing
For all the beauty that, with you, I've found.
A life is changed in just an instant's time,
All darkness fled before that brillaint sun
That shines from spoken words of softest rhyme
And speaks of treasures, only just begun.
This mystic meeting gives my heart a glow
That few have seen and only you will know.
Author: Yvonne Warren
I never knew there would be a better tomorrow
But you've come into my life and taken away all my sorrow
My days of sadness are a thing of the past
Because I have found true love at last
My days of emptiness are gone for good
Because you fill a void in my heart that you should
You've opened a window
You've shown me the light
And my love for you will continue to burn bright.
A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR
Author: Anonymous
In this world full of hurt and pain,
I need someone who would help me through the rain.
To comfort me when Im sad,
Doing everything just to make me glad.
In this world I need a Brave Knight,
Who would never give up any fight.
A knight who would dry away my tears,
Telling me to overcome my fears.
A knight who loves me for who I am inside,
With him there's nothing more I need to hide.
A person who will still be standing strong,
Eventhough everything has gone wrong.
I need someone who is willing to give me more,
Someone I can call my Knight In Shining Armor.
-
A BLUE STAR IN YOUR EYES
Author: Jo'Lene Tover
On the wings of an eagle,
My love for you flies.
Soaring higher and higher,
And touching the skies.
I reached up above,
And pulled a star from the sky.
To place it within,
Your precious minds eye.
To dwell there forever,
As my love for you.
On the wings of our love,
Enduring and true.
I honor you my darling,
With all that I am.
Please darling please,
Will you be my man?
There are so many things,
My heart wants to say.
I love you sweetheart,
There is no other way.
-
Good
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Meeting at Night
by Robert Browning
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
-
Song
by John Donne
Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devils foot;
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights
Till Age snow white hairs on thee;
Thou, when thou return'st wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear
No where
Lives a woman true and fair.
If thou find'st one let me know;
Such a pilgrimage were sweet.
Yet do not; I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet.
Though she were true when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
Yet she
Will be
False, ere I come, to two or three.
John Donne wrote some of the sexiest poems in the English language, and some of the best devotional poems as well. Talk about range!
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Bright Star
by John Keats
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient sleepless eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;
No yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever or else swoon to death.
-
Who ever loved
by Christopher Marlowe
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
-
She Walks In Beauty
by Lord Bryon
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
-
In My Craft Or Sullen Art
by Dylan Thomas
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
-
Sometimes Mysteriously
by Luis Omar Salinas
Sometimes in the evening when love
tunes its harp and the crickets
celebrate life, I am like a troubadour
in search of friends, loved ones,
anyone who will share with me
a bit of conversation. My loneliness
arrives ghostlike and pretentious,
it seeks my soul, it is ravenous
and hurting. I admire my father
who always has advice in these matters,
but a game of chess won't do, or
the frivolity of religion.
I want to find a solution, so I
write letters, poems, and sometimes
I touch solitude on the shoulder
and surrender to a great tranquility.
I understand I need courage
and sometimes, mysteriously,
I feel whole.
Luis Omar Salinas is generally considered to be one of the very best Hispanic poets to write in English, with good cause. "Sometimes Mysteriously" is one of those mysterious poems that sometimes makes us feel a special kinship with the poet.
-
Friday
by Ann Drysdale
The print of a bare foot, the second toe
A little longer than the one which is
Traditionally designated "great".
Praxiteles would have admired it.
You must have left in haste; your last wet step
Before boarding your suit and setting sail,
Outlined in talcum on the bathroom floor
Mocks your habitual fastidiousness.
There is no tide here to obliterate
Your oversight. Unless I wipe or sweep
Or suck it up, it will not go away.
The thought delights me. I will keep the footprint.
Too slight, too simply human to be called
Token or promise; I am keeping it
Because it is a precious evidence
That on this island I am not alone.
-
Excerpt from The Song of Songs
attributed to King Solomon
I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.
As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons.
I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.
His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes,
and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor wake my love, till he please.
-
— Voyages
by Hart Crane
I
Above the fresh ruffles of the surf
Bright striped urchins flay each other with sand.
They have contrived a conquest for shell shucks,
And their fingers crumble fragments of baked weed
Gaily digging and scattering.
And in answer to their treble interjections
The sun beats lightning on the waves,
The waves fold thunder on the sand;
And could they hear me I would tell them:
O brilliant kids, frisk with your dog,
Fondle your shells and sticks, bleached
By time and the elements; but there is a line
You must not cross nor ever trust beyond it
Spry cordage of your bodies to caresses
Too lichen-faithful from too wide a breast.
The bottom of the sea is cruel.
II
—And yet this great wink of eternity,
Of rimless floods, unfettered leewardings,
Samite sheeted and processioned where
Her undinal vast belly moonward bends,
Laughing the wrapt inflections of our love;
Take this Sea, whose diapason knells
On scrolls of silver snowy sentences,
The sceptred terror of whose sessions rends
As her demeanors motion well or ill,
All but the pieties of lovers’ hands.
And onward, as bells off San Salvador
Salute the crocus lustres of the stars,
In these poinsettia meadows of her tides,—
Adagios of islands, O my Prodigal,
Complete the dark confessions her veins spell.
Mark how her turning shoulders wind the hours,
And hasten while her penniless rich palms
Pass superscription of bent foam and wave,—
Hasten, while they are true,—sleep, death, desire,
Close round one instant in one floating flower.
Bind us in time, O Seasons clear, and awe.
O minstrel galleons of Carib fire,
Bequeath us to no earthly shore until
Is answered in the vortex of our grave
The seal’s wide spindrift gaze toward paradise.
III
Infinite consanguinity it bears—
This tendered theme of you that light
Retrieves from sea plains where the sky
Resigns a breast that every wave enthrones;
While ribboned water lanes I wind
Are laved and scattered with no stroke
Wide from your side, whereto this hour
The sea lifts, also, reliquary hands.
And so, admitted through black swollen gates
That must arrest all distance otherwise,—
Past whirling pillars and lithe pediments,
Light wrestling there incessantly with light,
Star kissing star through wave on wave unto
Your body rocking!
and where death, if shed,
Presumes no carnage, but this single change,—
Upon the steep floor flung from dawn to dawn
The silken skilled transmemberment of song;
Permit me voyage, love, into your hands ...
IV
Whose counted smile of hours and days, suppose
I know as spectrum of the sea and pledge
Vastly now parting gulf on gulf of wings
Whose circles bridge, I know, (from palms to the severe
Chilled albatross’s white immutability)
No stream of greater love advancing now
Than, singing, this mortality alone
Through clay aflow immortally to you.
All fragrance irrefragably, and claim
Madly meeting logically in this hour
And region that is ours to wreathe again,
Portending eyes and lips and making told
The chancel port and portion of our June—
Shall they not stem and close in our own steps
Bright staves of flowers and quills today as I
Must first be lost in fatal tides to tell?
In signature of the incarnate word
The harbor shoulders to resign in mingling
Mutual blood, transpiring as foreknown
And widening noon within your breast for gathering
All bright insinuations that my years have caught
For islands where must lead inviolably
Blue latitudes and levels of your eyes,—
In this expectant, still exclaim receive
The secret oar and petals of all love.
V
Meticulous, past midnight in clear rime,
Infrangible and lonely, smooth as though cast
Together in one merciless white blade—
The bay estuaries fleck the hard sky limits.
—As if too brittle or too clear to touch!
The cables of our sleep so swiftly filed,
Already hang, shred ends from remembered stars.
One frozen trackless smile ... What words
Can strangle this deaf moonlight? For we
Are overtaken. Now no cry, no sword
Can fasten or deflect this tidal wedge,
Slow tyranny of moonlight, moonlight loved
And changed ... “There’s
Nothing like this in the world,” you say,
Knowing I cannot touch your hand and look
Too, into that godless cleft of sky
Where nothing turns but dead sands flashing.
“—And never to quite understand!” No,
In all the argosy of your bright hair I dreamed
Nothing so flagless as this piracy.
But now
Draw in your head, alone and too tall here.
Your eyes already in the slant of drifting foam;
Your breath sealed by the ghosts I do not know:
Draw in your head and sleep the long way home.
VI
Where icy and bright dungeons lift
Of swimmers their lost morning eyes,
And ocean rivers, churning, shift
Green borders under stranger skies,
Steadily as a shell secretes
Its beating leagues of monotone,
Or as many waters trough the sun’s
Red kelson past the cape’s wet stone;
O rivers mingling toward the sky
And harbor of the phoenix’ breast—
My eyes pressed black against the prow,
—Thy derelict and blinded guest
Waiting, afire, what name, unspoke,
I cannot claim: let thy waves rear
More savage than the death of kings,
Some splintered garland for the seer.
Beyond siroccos harvesting
The solstice thunders, crept away,
Like a cliff swinging or a sail
Flung into April’s inmost day—
Creation’s blithe and petalled word
To the lounged goddess when she rose
Conceding dialogue with eyes
That smile unsearchable repose—
Still fervid covenant, Belle Isle,
—Unfolded floating dais before
Which rainbows twine continual hair—
Belle Isle, white echo of the oar!
The imaged Word, it is, that holds
Hushed willows anchored in its glow.
It is the unbetrayable reply
Whose accent no farewell can know.
Hart Crane's "Voyages" may be the best love poem of all time, and the second-best love poem isn't even close. Hart Crane was an "uneven" poet who sometimes borders on being unreadable, but in his best poems, he is a wonder. Other poems of his such as "To Brooklyn Bridge" and "The Broken Tower" rank with the best poems in the English language.
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great to see you around lady TT.
we are all getting into poetry and literature.
it is so much fun to learn and to become more enriched.
-
You guys are on fire.
-
Incredible prose
Thanks for the plethora of artistic endeavours by deeply sensitive souls
Blessings
-
Sonnet 147
by William Shakespeare
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest.
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed,
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as Hell, as dark as night.
-
The Maiden’s Song
Medieval Lyric, Poet Unknown
The maidens came when I was in my mother’s bower.
I had all that I would.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
The silver is white, red is the gold;
The robes they lay in fold.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
And through the glass window shines the sun.
How should I love, and I so young?
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
-
this is pure luck. I was not looking for a Mathew Arnold poem.
I was just reading various poems and I came across the "dover beach". I decided to post it at once.
so we get 2 Mathew Arnold poems side by side.
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Dover Beach
by Matthew Arnold
The sea is calm to-night,
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The sea of faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
"Dover Beach" may be the first modern English poem. When Arnold speaks of the "Sea of Faith" retreating, he seems to be setting the stage for Modernism, which to some degree was a movement of skeptics who doubted that the "wisdom" contained in the Bible was the revelation of an all-knowing God.
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Glad you liked "Shorab and Rustum" It is a poem by the 19th century English poet and famous literary critic Matthew Arnold (1822-1888). It was written in 1853.
"Rustum is the Persian epic hero; Sohrab is his son by a princess whom he had loved in early youth. Sohrab knows the identity of his father and longs to find him, but Rustum does not even know that he has a son since the princess tells him he has a daughter in order to protect the child from having to fight. However, Sohrab grows up to become a champion of the Tartar army. When they meet in single combat between the Persian and the Tartar armies, Rustum as the champion of the former, Sohrab as the champion of the latter, Rustum fights under an assumed name. Yet Sohrab suspects that his antagonist is the great Rustum and begs him to say so; Rustum for his part is drawn to the youth and urges him to retire from an unequal contest. But Sohrab will not withdraw and Rustum will not disclose his identity. They fight, and at the climax of the combat Rustum cries aloud his name as a battlecry to terrify his enemy; Sohrab, recognizing it is not terrified but astonished, lowers his shield and is exposed to Rustum's spear, which pierces his side. Dying, he threatens the revenge his father Rustum will take. When Rustum denies that he ever had a son, Sohrab shows the family insignia of Rustum pricked on his arm. The proof is indisputable and the father and son at last know each other. In his grief and despair Rustum wishes for his own death."
From "Rustum and Sohrab"
So, on the bloody sand, Sohrab lay dead;
And the great Rustum drew his horseman's cloak
Down o'er his face, and sate by his dead son.
As those black granite pillars, once high-reared
By Jemshid in Persepolis,to bear
His house, now 'mid their broken flights of steps
Lie prone, enormous, down the mountain side —
So in the sand lay Rustum by his son.
And night came down over the solemn waste,
And the two gazing hosts, and that sole pair,
And darkened all; and a cold fog, with night,
Crept from the Oxus. Soon a hum arose,
As of a great assembly loosed, and fires
Began to twinkle through the fog; for now
Both armies moved to camp, and took their meal:
The Persians took it on the open sands
Southward; the Tartars by the river marge:
And Rustum and his son were left alone.
But the majestic River floated on,
Out of the mist and hum of that low land,
Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,
Rejoicing, through the hushed Chorasmian waste,
Under the solitary moon: — he flowed
Right for the polar star, past Orgunjè,
Brimming, and bright, and large: then sands begin
To hem his watery march, and dam his streams,
And split his currents; that for many a league
The shorn and parcelled Oxus strains along
Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles —
Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had
In his high mountain-cradle in Pamere,
A foiled circuitous wanderer: — till at last
The longed-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
His luminous home of waters opens, bright
And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars
Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.
fascinating. thank you so much for sharing this.
this is something to be enjoyed over and over again.
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Glad you liked "Shorab and Rustum" It is a poem by the 19th century English poet and famous literary critic Matthew Arnold (1822-1888). It was written in 1853.
"Rustum is the Persian epic hero; Sohrab is his son by a princess whom he had loved in early youth. Sohrab knows the identity of his father and longs to find him, but Rustum does not even know that he has a son since the princess tells him he has a daughter in order to protect the child from having to fight. However, Sohrab grows up to become a champion of the Tartar army. When they meet in single combat between the Persian and the Tartar armies, Rustum as the champion of the former, Sohrab as the champion of the latter, Rustum fights under an assumed name. Yet Sohrab suspects that his antagonist is the great Rustum and begs him to say so; Rustum for his part is drawn to the youth and urges him to retire from an unequal contest. But Sohrab will not withdraw and Rustum will not disclose his identity. They fight, and at the climax of the combat Rustum cries aloud his name as a battlecry to terrify his enemy; Sohrab, recognizing it is not terrified but astonished, lowers his shield and is exposed to Rustum's spear, which pierces his side. Dying, he threatens the revenge his father Rustum will take. When Rustum denies that he ever had a son, Sohrab shows the family insignia of Rustum pricked on his arm. The proof is indisputable and the father and son at last know each other. In his grief and despair Rustum wishes for his own death."
From "Rustum and Sohrab"
So, on the bloody sand, Sohrab lay dead;
And the great Rustum drew his horseman's cloak
Down o'er his face, and sate by his dead son.
As those black granite pillars, once high-reared
By Jemshid in Persepolis,to bear
His house, now 'mid their broken flights of steps
Lie prone, enormous, down the mountain side —
So in the sand lay Rustum by his son.
And night came down over the solemn waste,
And the two gazing hosts, and that sole pair,
And darkened all; and a cold fog, with night,
Crept from the Oxus. Soon a hum arose,
As of a great assembly loosed, and fires
Began to twinkle through the fog; for now
Both armies moved to camp, and took their meal:
The Persians took it on the open sands
Southward; the Tartars by the river marge:
And Rustum and his son were left alone.
But the majestic River floated on,
Out of the mist and hum of that low land,
Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,
Rejoicing, through the hushed Chorasmian waste,
Under the solitary moon: — he flowed
Right for the polar star, past Orgunjè,
Brimming, and bright, and large: then sands begin
To hem his watery march, and dam his streams,
And split his currents; that for many a league
The shorn and parcelled Oxus strains along
Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles —
Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had
In his high mountain-cradle in Pamere,
A foiled circuitous wanderer: — till at last
The longed-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
His luminous home of waters opens, bright
And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars
Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.
-
To Celia
by Ben Jonson
Drink to me, only, with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine:
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee, late, a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent'st back to me:
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.
-
Friday
by Ann Drysdale
The print of a bare foot, the second toe
A little longer than the one which is
Traditionally designated "great".
Praxiteles would have admired it.
You must have left in haste; your last wet step
Before boarding your suit and setting sail,
Outlined in talcum on the bathroom floor
Mocks your habitual fastidiousness.
There is no tide here to obliterate
Your oversight. Unless I wipe or sweep
Or suck it up, it will not go away.
The thought delights me. I will keep the footprint.
Too slight, too simply human to be called
Token or promise; I am keeping it
Because it is a precious evidence
That on this island I am not alone.
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— Last Night
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Last night, your memory stole into my heart—
as spring sweeps uninvited into barren gardens,
as morning breezes reinvigorate dormant deserts,
as a patient suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason ...
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— The Truth the Dead Know
by Anne Sexton
For my Mother, born March 1902, died March 1959
and my Father, born February 1900, died June 1959
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.
We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch. In another country people die.
My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one's alone.
Men kill for this, or for as much.
And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in the stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
-
When You Are Old
by William Butler Yeats
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
-
—Requiescat
by Oscar Wilde
Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.
Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.
Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.
Oscar Wilde's exquisitely lovely "Requiescat" is a wonderfully moving poem, and one of the best elegies in the English language.
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Exerts from Sohrab and Rustum -Matthew Arnold
He spoke, and Sohrab kindled at his taunts,
And he too drew his sword; at once they rush'd
Together, as two eagles on one prey
Come rushing down together from the clouds,
One from the east, one from the west; their shields
Dash'd with a clang together, and a din
Rose, such as that the sinewy woodcutters
Make often in the forest's heart at morn,
Of hewing axes, crashing trees—such blows
Rustum and Sohrab on each other hail'd.
And you would say that sun and stars took part
In that unnatural conflict; for a cloud
Grew suddenly in Heaven, and dark'd the sun
Over the fighters' heads; and a wind rose
Under their feet, and moaning swept the plain,
And in a sandy whirlwind wrapp'd the pair.
In gloom they twain were wrapp'd, and they alone;
For both the on-looking hosts on either hand
Stood in broad daylight, and the sky was pure,
And the sun sparkled on the Oxus stream…….
Then Rustum raised his head; his dreadful eyes
Glared, and he shook on high his menacing spear,
And shouted: Rustum!—Sohrab heard that shout,
And shrank amazed; back he recoil'd one step,
And scann'd with blinking eyes the advancing form,
And then he stood bewilder'd; and he dropp'd
His covering shield, and the spear pierced his side.
He reel'd, and staggering back, sank to the ground;
And then the gloom dispersed, and the wind fell,
And the bright sun broke forth, and melted all
The cloud; and the two armies saw the pair—
Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet,
And Sohrab, wounded, on the bloody sand.
As when some hunter in the spring hath found
A breeding eagle sitting on her nest,
Upon the craggy isle of a hill-lake,
And pierced her with an arrow as she rose,
And follow'd her to find her where she fell
Far off;—anon her mate comes winging back
From hunting, and a great way off descries
His huddling young left sole; at that, he checks
His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps
Circles above his eyry, with loud screams
Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she
Lies dying, with the arrow in her side,
In some far stony gorge out of his ken,
A heap of fluttering feathers—never more
Shall the lake glass her, flying over it;
Never the black and dripping precipices
Echo her stormy scream as she sails by—
As that poor bird flies home, nor knows his loss,
So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood
Over his dying son, and knew him not.
awesome. thank you so much for sharing.
totally awesome.
-
Exerts from Sohrab and Rustum -Matthew Arnold
He spoke, and Sohrab kindled at his taunts,
And he too drew his sword; at once they rush'd
Together, as two eagles on one prey
Come rushing down together from the clouds,
One from the east, one from the west; their shields
Dash'd with a clang together, and a din
Rose, such as that the sinewy woodcutters
Make often in the forest's heart at morn,
Of hewing axes, crashing trees—such blows
Rustum and Sohrab on each other hail'd.
And you would say that sun and stars took part
In that unnatural conflict; for a cloud
Grew suddenly in Heaven, and dark'd the sun
Over the fighters' heads; and a wind rose
Under their feet, and moaning swept the plain,
And in a sandy whirlwind wrapp'd the pair.
In gloom they twain were wrapp'd, and they alone;
For both the on-looking hosts on either hand
Stood in broad daylight, and the sky was pure,
And the sun sparkled on the Oxus stream…….
Then Rustum raised his head; his dreadful eyes
Glared, and he shook on high his menacing spear,
And shouted: Rustum!—Sohrab heard that shout,
And shrank amazed; back he recoil'd one step,
And scann'd with blinking eyes the advancing form,
And then he stood bewilder'd; and he dropp'd
His covering shield, and the spear pierced his side.
He reel'd, and staggering back, sank to the ground;
And then the gloom dispersed, and the wind fell,
And the bright sun broke forth, and melted all
The cloud; and the two armies saw the pair—
Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet,
And Sohrab, wounded, on the bloody sand.
As when some hunter in the spring hath found
A breeding eagle sitting on her nest,
Upon the craggy isle of a hill-lake,
And pierced her with an arrow as she rose,
And follow'd her to find her where she fell
Far off;—anon her mate comes winging back
From hunting, and a great way off descries
His huddling young left sole; at that, he checks
His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps
Circles above his eyry, with loud screams
Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she
Lies dying, with the arrow in her side,
In some far stony gorge out of his ken,
A heap of fluttering feathers—never more
Shall the lake glass her, flying over it;
Never the black and dripping precipices
Echo her stormy scream as she sails by—
As that poor bird flies home, nor knows his loss,
So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood
Over his dying son, and knew him not.
-
The Forsaken Merman
By Matthew Arnold
Come, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below!
Now my brothers call from the bay,
Now the great winds shoreward blow,
Now the salt tides seaward flow;
Now the wild white horses play,
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
Children dear, let us away!
This way, this way!
Call her once before you go—
Call once yet!
In a voice that she will know:
"Margaret! Margaret!"
Children's voices should be dear
(Call once more) to a mother's ear;
Children's voices, wild with pain—
Surely she will come again!
Call her once and come away;
This way, this way!
"Mother dear, we cannot stay!
The wild white horses foam and fret."
Margaret! Margaret!
Come, dear children, come away down;
Call no more!
One last look at the white-wall'd town
And the little grey church on the windy shore,
Then come down!
She will not come though you call all day;
Come away, come away!
Children dear, was it yesterday
We heard the sweet bells over the bay?
In the caverns where we lay,
Through the surf and through the swell,
The far-off sound of a silver bell?
Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,
Where the winds are all asleep;
Where the spent lights quiver and gleam,
Where the salt weed sways in the stream,
Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,
Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground;
Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,
Dry their mail and bask in the brine;
Where great whales come sailing by,
Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Round the world for ever and aye?
When did music come this way?
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, was it yesterday
(Call yet once) that she went away?
Once she sate with you and me,
On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,
And the youngest sate on her knee.
She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well,
When down swung the sound of a far-off bell.
She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea;
She said: "I must go, to my kinsfolk pray
In the little grey church on the shore to-day.
'T will be Easter-time in the world—ah me!
And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee."
I said: "Go up, dear heart, through the waves;
Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves!"
She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, were we long alone?
"The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan;
Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say;
Come!" I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay.
We went up the beach, by the sandy down
Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town;
Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still,
To the little grey church on the windy hill.
From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,
But we stood without in the cold blowing airs.
We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,
And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:
"Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here!
Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone;
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan."
But, ah, she gave me never a look,
For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book!
Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.
Come away, children, call no more!
Come away, come down, call no more!
Down, down, down!
Down to the depths of the sea!
She sits at her wheel in the humming town,
Singing most joyfully.
Hark what she sings: "O joy, O joy,
For the humming street, and the child with its toy!
For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well;
For the wheel where I spun,
And the blessed light of the sun!"
And so she sings her fill,
Singing most joyfully,
Till the spindle drops from her hand,
And the whizzing wheel stands still.
She steals to the window, and looks at the sand,
And over the sand at the sea;
And her eyes are set in a stare;
And anon there breaks a sigh,
And anon there drops a tear,
From a sorrow-clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow-laden,
A long, long sigh;
For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden
And the gleam of her golden hair.
Come away, away children
Come children, come down!
The hoarse wind blows coldly;
Lights shine in the town.
She will start from her slumber
When gusts shake the door;
She will hear the winds howling,
Will hear the waves roar.
We shall see, while above us
The waves roar and whirl,
A ceiling of amber,
A pavement of pearl.
Singing: "Here came a mortal,
But faithless was she!
And alone dwell for ever
The kings of the sea."
But, children, at midnight,
When soft the winds blow,
When clear falls the moonlight,
When spring-tides are low;
When sweet airs come seaward
From heaths starr'd with broom,
And high rocks throw mildly
On the blanch'd sands a gloom;
Up the still, glistening beaches,
Up the creeks we will hie,
Over banks of bright seaweed
The ebb-tide leaves dry.
We will gaze, from the sand-hills,
At the white, sleeping town;
At the church on the hill-side—
And then come back down.
Singing: "There dwells a loved one,
But cruel is she!
She left lonely for ever
The kings of the sea."
-
Beautiful Dreamer
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
- by Stephen Foster
This is lovely!
-
Longing
by Matthew Arnold (1822 1888)
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me.
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth.
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say My love! why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Arnold is one of my favorites! Love The Forsaken Merman and Sohrab and Rustum...
-
Beautiful Dreamer
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
- by Stephen Foster
-
Farewell to Love
by Michael Drayton (1563 - 1631)
Since there's not help, come let us kiss and part;
Nay, I am done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we, one jot of former love retain.
Now, at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now, if thou woulds't, when all have given him over,
From death to life Thou might'st him yet recover.
-
I Held a Jewel
by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
I held a jewel in my fingers
And went to sleep
The day was warm, and winds were prosy
I said, "Twill keep"
I woke - and chide my honest fingers,
The Gem was gone
And now, an Amethyst remembrance
Is all I own
-
i carry your heart with me
by e. e. Cummings
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
-
Damelus' Song to Diaphenia
by Henry Constable (1562-1613).
Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,
Heigh ho, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as my lambs
Are belovëd of their dams—
How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me!
Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets incloses,
Fair sweet, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as each flower
Loves the sun's life-giving power,
For, dead, thy breath to life might move me.
Diaphenia, like to all things blessed,
When all thy praises are expressëd,
Dear joy, how I do love thee!
As the birds do love the spring,
Or the bees their careful king,—
Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!
-
Life in a Love
by Robert Browning
Escape me?
Never—
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth,
While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear—
It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed—
But what if I fail of my purpose here?
It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,
And baffled, get up to begin again,—
So the chase takes up one's life, that's all.
While, look but once from your farthest bound,
At me so deep in the dust and dark,
No sooner the old hope drops to ground
Than a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,
I shape me—
Ever
Removed!
-
Sonnets from the Portuguese, XIII
And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
The love I bear thee, finding words enough,
And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,
Between our faces, to cast light upon each?
I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach
My hand to hold my spirit so far off
From myself.. me.. that I should bring thee proof,
In words of love hid in me... out of reach.
Nay, let the silence of my womanhood
Commend my woman-love to thy belief,
Seeing that I stand unwon (however wooed)
And rend the garment of my life in brief
By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,
Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
-
Love Arm'd
by Aphra Behn
Love in Fantastique Triumph sat,
Whilst bleeding Hearts around him flow'd,
For whom Fresh pains he did create,
And strange Tryanic power he show'd;
From thy Bright Eyes he took his fire,
Which round about, in sport he hurl'd;
But 'twas from mine he took desire,
Enough to undo the Amorous World.
From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his Pride and Crueltie;
From me his Languishments and Feares,
And every Killing Dart from thee;
Thus thou and I, the God have arm'd,
And sett him up a Deity;
But my poor Heart alone is harm'd,
Whilst thine the Victor is, and free.
-
Longing
by Matthew Arnold (1822 1888)
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me.
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth.
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say My love! why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
-
At Last
Elizabeth Akers Allen
At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close—at last—at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,—
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek, in truth,—
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
Broke up the blooming sward of Youth,—
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,—
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
-
My Suburban Girl
by Samuel Alfred Beadle
I know a sweet suburban girl,
She's witty, bright and brief;
With dimples in her cheeks; and pearl
In rubies set, for teeth.
Beneath her glossy raven hair
There beams the hazel eye,
Bright as the star of evening there
Where the yellow sunbeams die.
Her breath is like a flower blown,
In fragrance and perfume;
Her voice seems from the blissful throne
Where their harps the angels tune.
Her waist is just a trifle more
Than a cubit in its girth;
But when there my arms I throw,
I've all there is of earth.
And when she turns her dimpled cheek
Toward me for a kiss,
I lose expression—cannot speak—
And take all there is of bliss.
-
I am glad you are enjoying this thread lady Divine.
Amazing poetry that entertains as it enriches.
-
What an amazing plethora of poetic treasures that you have graced us with... Speechless and extremely grateful for the ability to simply click here and rediscover whenever I desire
Thankful
Blessings
-
Voyages
by Hart Crane
I
Above the fresh ruffles of the surf
Bright striped urchins flay each other with sand.
They have contrived a conquest for shell shucks,
And their fingers crumble fragments of baked weed
Gaily digging and scattering.
And in answer to their treble interjections
The sun beats lightning on the waves,
The waves fold thunder on the sand;
And could they hear me I would tell them:
O brilliant kids, frisk with your dog,
Fondle your shells and sticks, bleached
By time and the elements; but there is a line
You must not cross nor ever trust beyond it
Spry cordage of your bodies to caresses
Too lichen-faithful from too wide a breast.
The bottom of the sea is cruel.
II
—And yet this great wink of eternity,
Of rimless floods, unfettered leewardings,
Samite sheeted and processioned where
Her undinal vast belly moonward bends,
Laughing the wrapt inflections of our love;
Take this Sea, whose diapason knells
On scrolls of silver snowy sentences,
The sceptred terror of whose sessions rends
As her demeanors motion well or ill,
All but the pieties of lovers’ hands.
And onward, as bells off San Salvador
Salute the crocus lustres of the stars,
In these poinsettia meadows of her tides,—
Adagios of islands, O my Prodigal,
Complete the dark confessions her veins spell.
Mark how her turning shoulders wind the hours,
And hasten while her penniless rich palms
Pass superscription of bent foam and wave,—
Hasten, while they are true,—sleep, death, desire,
Close round one instant in one floating flower.
Bind us in time, O Seasons clear, and awe.
O minstrel galleons of Carib fire,
Bequeath us to no earthly shore until
Is answered in the vortex of our grave
The seal’s wide spindrift gaze toward paradise.
III
Infinite consanguinity it bears—
This tendered theme of you that light
Retrieves from sea plains where the sky
Resigns a breast that every wave enthrones;
While ribboned water lanes I wind
Are laved and scattered with no stroke
Wide from your side, whereto this hour
The sea lifts, also, reliquary hands.
And so, admitted through black swollen gates
That must arrest all distance otherwise,—
Past whirling pillars and lithe pediments,
Light wrestling there incessantly with light,
Star kissing star through wave on wave unto
Your body rocking!
and where death, if shed,
Presumes no carnage, but this single change,—
Upon the steep floor flung from dawn to dawn
The silken skilled transmemberment of song;
Permit me voyage, love, into your hands ...
IV
Whose counted smile of hours and days, suppose
I know as spectrum of the sea and pledge
Vastly now parting gulf on gulf of wings
Whose circles bridge, I know, (from palms to the severe
Chilled albatross’s white immutability)
No stream of greater love advancing now
Than, singing, this mortality alone
Through clay aflow immortally to you.
All fragrance irrefragably, and claim
Madly meeting logically in this hour
And region that is ours to wreathe again,
Portending eyes and lips and making told
The chancel port and portion of our June—
Shall they not stem and close in our own steps
Bright staves of flowers and quills today as I
Must first be lost in fatal tides to tell?
In signature of the incarnate word
The harbor shoulders to resign in mingling
Mutual blood, transpiring as foreknown
And widening noon within your breast for gathering
All bright insinuations that my years have caught
For islands where must lead inviolably
Blue latitudes and levels of your eyes,—
In this expectant, still exclaim receive
The secret oar and petals of all love.
V
Meticulous, past midnight in clear rime,
Infrangible and lonely, smooth as though cast
Together in one merciless white blade—
The bay estuaries fleck the hard sky limits.
—As if too brittle or too clear to touch!
The cables of our sleep so swiftly filed,
Already hang, shred ends from remembered stars.
One frozen trackless smile ... What words
Can strangle this deaf moonlight? For we
Are overtaken. Now no cry, no sword
Can fasten or deflect this tidal wedge,
Slow tyranny of moonlight, moonlight loved
And changed ... “There’s
Nothing like this in the world,” you say,
Knowing I cannot touch your hand and look
Too, into that godless cleft of sky
Where nothing turns but dead sands flashing.
“—And never to quite understand!” No,
In all the argosy of your bright hair I dreamed
Nothing so flagless as this piracy.
But now
Draw in your head, alone and too tall here.
Your eyes already in the slant of drifting foam;
Your breath sealed by the ghosts I do not know:
Draw in your head and sleep the long way home.
VI
Where icy and bright dungeons lift
Of swimmers their lost morning eyes,
And ocean rivers, churning, shift
Green borders under stranger skies,
Steadily as a shell secretes
Its beating leagues of monotone,
Or as many waters trough the sun’s
Red kelson past the cape’s wet stone;
O rivers mingling toward the sky
And harbor of the phoenix’ breast—
My eyes pressed black against the prow,
—Thy derelict and blinded guest
Waiting, afire, what name, unspoke,
I cannot claim: let thy waves rear
More savage than the death of kings,
Some splintered garland for the seer.
Beyond siroccos harvesting
The solstice thunders, crept away,
Like a cliff swinging or a sail
Flung into April’s inmost day—
Creation’s blithe and petalled word
To the lounged goddess when she rose
Conceding dialogue with eyes
That smile unsearchable repose—
Still fervid covenant, Belle Isle,
—Unfolded floating dais before
Which rainbows twine continual hair—
Belle Isle, white echo of the oar!
The imaged Word, it is, that holds
Hushed willows anchored in its glow.
It is the unbetrayable reply
Whose accent no farewell can know.
Hart Crane's "Voyages" is the best love poem of all time, and the second-best love poem isn't even close. Hart Crane was an "uneven" poet who sometimes borders on being unreadable, but in his best poems, he is a wonder. Other poems of his such as "To Brooklyn Bridge" and "The Broken Tower" rank with the best poems in the English language.
-
Cradle Song
by William Blake
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel
Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.
O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful night shall break.
Auden's "Lullaby" was written from one adult to another. Blake's "Cradle Song" is a lullaby written by an adult to a sleeping baby. Blake was married but never had children, as far as we know, yet his love and compassion for the nameless sleeping baby are wonderfully evident in this very moving poem.
-
Lullaby
by W. H. Auden
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm:
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While an abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's carnal ecstasy.
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost.
All the dreaded cards foretell.
Shall be paid, but from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought.
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of welcome show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find our mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness find you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.
-
Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae
by Ernest Dowson
"I am not as I was under the reign of the good Cynara"—Horace
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to you, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long;
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
-
Piano
by D. H. Lawrence
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.
In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cozy parlor, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamor
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
-
One of my favourites:-
Among the Sandhills by Laurence Hope
Lie still, Beloved, I also see the day
Shoot his white arrows through the trembling sky,
But what is dawn to us, who cast away
All sense of time that mars our ecstasy?
The scented orange bushes check the breeze
Granting in tribute many waxen stars,
And aromatic Eucalyptus trees
Defy the sun with grey-green scimitars.
Since fate has given us this garden love,
And Time and Space, for once, have acquiesced,
Ah, take no heed of paling skies above,
Let us deem night is with us yet, and rest.
Let us lie still and drift away in dreams,
Back to the jewelled kingdom of the night,
Whose golden stars with dimly radiant gleams
Lit up your loveliness for my delight.
Once we are risen all the cares of day
Will seize and bind us to their wanton will.
Why should we own that night has passed away?
Oh, as you value love, lie still, lie still!
just read it again.
it is beautiful.
-
— To Earthward
by Robert Frost
Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
That crossed me from sweet things,
The flow of — was it musk
From hidden grapevine springs
Downhill at dusk?
I had the swirl and ache
From sprays of honeysuckle
That when they’re gathered shake
Dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those
Seemed strong when I was young:
The petal of the rose
It was that stung.
Now no joy but lacks salt,
That is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault;
I crave the stain
Of tears, the aftermark
Of almost too much love,
The sweet of bitter bark
And burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard
In grass or sand,
The hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough
To all my length.
-
— Sweet Rose of Virtue
by William Dunbar
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Sweet rose of virtue and of gentleness,
delightful lily of youthful wantonness,
richest in bounty and in beauty clear
and in every virtue that is held most dear―
except only that you are merciless.
Into your garden, today, I followed you;
there I saw flowers of freshest hue,
both white and red, delightful to see,
and wholesome herbs, waving resplendently―
yet everywhere, no odor but bitter rue.
I fear that March with his last arctic blast
has slain my fair rose of pallid and gentle cast,
whose piteous death does my heart such pain
that, if I could, I would compose her roots again―
so comforting her bowering leaves have been.
-
— Music When Soft Voices Die (To —)
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
-
Edna St. Vincent Millay was the first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for poetry. She was openly bisexual and had affairs with other women and married men. When she finally married, hers was an open marriage. Her 1920 poetry collection A Few Figs From Thistles drew controversy for its novel exploration of female sexuality. She was one of the earliest and strongest voices for what became known as feminism. One of the recurring themes of her poetry was that men might use her body, but not possess her or have any claim over her. (And perhaps that their desire for her body gave her the upper hand in relationships.)
I, Being Born a Woman, and Distressed
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I, being born a woman, and distressed
By all the needs and notions of my kind,
Am urged by your propinquity to find
Your person fair, and feel a certain zest
To bear your body's weight upon my breast:
So subtly is the fume of life designed,
To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,
And leave me once again undone, possessed.
Think not for this, however, this poor treason
Of my stout blood against my staggering brain,
I shall remember you with love, or season
My scorn with pity — let me make it plain:
I find this frenzy insufficient reason
For conversation when we meet again.
-
Mad Girl's Love Song
by Sylvia Plath
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
-
I just found this one. it looks like a classic:
Valentine
by Elinor Wylie
Too high, too high to pluck
My heart shall swing.
A fruit no bee shall suck,
No wasp shall sting.
If on some night of cold
It falls to ground
In apple-leaves of gold
I’ll wrap it round.
And I shall seal it up
With spice and salt,
In a carven silver cup,
In a deep vault.
Before my eyes are blind
And my lips mute,
I must eat core and rind
Of that same fruit.
Before my heart is dust
At the end of all,
Eat it I must, I must
Were it bitter gall.
But I shall keep it sweet
By some strange art;
Wild honey I shall eat
When I eat my heart.
O honey cool and chaste
As clover’s breath!
Sweet Heaven I shall taste
Before my death.
-
great additions here lady Misty.
I am also planning on adding a few poems here later for everybody to enjoy.
-
The Privileged Lovers-Rumi
The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,
This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.
They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.
They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.
wow. awesome.
Rumi might be America's most read poet.
we should start a thread for Rumi.
thank you for sharing.
-
The Privileged Lovers-Rumi
The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,
This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.
They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.
They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.
-
One of my favourites:-
Among the Sandhills by Laurence Hope
Lie still, Beloved, I also see the day
Shoot his white arrows through the trembling sky,
But what is dawn to us, who cast away
All sense of time that mars our ecstasy?
The scented orange bushes check the breeze
Granting in tribute many waxen stars,
And aromatic Eucalyptus trees
Defy the sun with grey-green scimitars.
Since fate has given us this garden love,
And Time and Space, for once, have acquiesced,
Ah, take no heed of paling skies above,
Let us deem night is with us yet, and rest.
Let us lie still and drift away in dreams,
Back to the jewelled kingdom of the night,
Whose golden stars with dimly radiant gleams
Lit up your loveliness for my delight.
Once we are risen all the cares of day
Will seize and bind us to their wanton will.
Why should we own that night has passed away?
Oh, as you value love, lie still, lie still!
-
“Oh Fairest of the Rural Maids”
By William Cullen Bryant 1794–1878
Oh fairest of the rural maids!
Thy birth was in the forest shades;
Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky,
Were all that met thine infant eye.
Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,
Were even in the sylvan wild;
And all the beauty of the place
Is in thy heart and on thy face.
The twilight of the trees and rocks
Is in the light shade of thy locks;
Thy step is as the wind, that weaves
Its playful way among the leaves.
Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene
And silent waters heaven is seen;
Their lashes are the herbs that look
On their young figures in the brook.
The forest depths, by foot unpressed,
Are not more sinless than thy breast;
The holy peace, that fills the air
Of those calm solitudes, is there.
-
My Star
by: Robert Browning (1812-1889)
All that I know
Of a certain star
Is, it can throw
(Like the angled spar)
Now a dart of red,
Now a dart of blue;
Till my friends have said
They would fain see, too,
My star that dartles the red and the blue!
Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:
They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.
What matter to me if their star is a world?
Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.
-
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, hills and fields,
Woods or steepy mountains yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning;
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
- Christopher Marlowe
Someone once read this to me and I will never forget. I so love that Sir Walter Raleigh wrote a response, it reminds me of a couple of 'response' poems I may share!
-
*Sigh* Seraphim is just breathtaking! Makes me realise how very far I have yet to go!! :)
-
Words for My Lady
I knew this day would eventually come
When I'd want to say these words to you
And it's with these words I hold in my heart
That I now feel I need to renew
I've thought about what I want to say
And was waiting for when the time was right
To say exactly what's on my mind
While you're sitting here with me tonight
I know I get caught up in my own little world
And sometimes I tend to forget
The true meaning of those little words
Which entered my heart the day we first met
If you'll move just a little bit closer
I'll describe the moment when this all began
When I knew you'd be my special lady
And I would be your lucky man
It was an evening in time when I held you close
As we listened to the falling rain
Sitting in front of a warm flickering fire
Sharing our dreams with a glass of champagne
Somehow, I never could have imagined
Spending an evening like that with you
As we talked between the falling raindrops
And expressing our points of view
With my arms wrapped around you
I thought about how hard it would be to let you go
Then you turned around and kissed me
Only then at that moment did I really know
We fell in love on that special night
But I couldn't find the words to say
As you were the only one in my life
Who has ever made me feel that way
When I looked deep into your eyes
And then I took your hand
I knew that all I ever needed
Was to love and to hold you all that I can
You became a part of my little world
And knew that I could never let you go
Because your love meant so much to me
More than you could possibly ever know
After all these years of being together
I needed to say how much I still care
And the only thing I ever wished for
Was that you would always be there
You will always be my special lady
And I love you so very much
I'd be lost in my little world without you
To share your love and your touch
With you by my side and a fire to keep us warm
We'll always welcome the falling rain
When we're holding each other and never letting go
As we fall in love all over again
The words in my heart still mean the same
After all these years of being with you
And the best part of all was knowing
That my very special lady still loves me too
- Ken Ross -
-
Seraphim
Would you catch me on your tongue
When I fall down like rain
Could I evaporate in your kiss
So I could fall down again
Would you comfort me with your heartbeat
As it keeps time with mine
Like a beautiful concerto
Of love so divine
Would you let me inside you
When the world turns cold
And tell me you love me
When life puts us on hold
You're like an angel
Made with gossamer wings
In your hair I am tangled
And it's the sweetest of things
You completely complete me
If that's even possible
So save me sweet seraphim
We can be unstoppable
Will you love me unconditionally
Even at my worst
Even though it's a fallacy
That I fell first
I'll lay bare all that I have
On the ground at your feet
As long as you love me
With a burning fires heat
You're like an angel
Made with gossamer wings
In your hair I am tangled
And it's the sweetest of things
You completely complete me
If that's even possible
So save me sweet seraphim
We can be unstoppable
- Robert L'Ecuyer -
-
Reminiscence of Maeterlinkck's
'Life of a bee'
By Laurence Hope
Oh, for the death of a beautiful purple bee;
Sailing away to the blue of a limpid sky;
To have yielded up one's life in an ecstasy,
And then, in the very climax of love, to die!
To give oneself completely, once and forever;
Drink life at its utmost height as one lays it down;
Spend one's soul in the rush of one last Endeavour;
And rule supremely in laying aside the crown.
fabulous.
-
Reminiscence of Maeterlinkck's
'Life of a bee'
By Laurence Hope
Oh, for the death of a beautiful purple bee;
Sailing away to the blue of a limpid sky;
To have yielded up one's life in an ecstasy,
And then, in the very climax of love, to die!
To give oneself completely, once and forever;
Drink life at its utmost height as one lays it down;
Spend one's soul in the rush of one last Endeavour;
And rule supremely in laying aside the crown.
-
Lovely! Sad to lose him!
-
Leonard Nimoys Poem
Prior to his passing this year
-
Worth While
By Laurence Hope
I asked of my desolate shipwrecked soul
"wouldst thou rather never have met
The one whom thou lovedst beyond control
And whom thou adorest yet?"
Back from the senses, the heart, the brain
Came the answer swiftly thrown,
"What matter the price, we would pay it again,
We have had, we have loved, we have known!"
-
Nice
-
The Clod and the Pebble
by William Blake (1757-1827)
Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.
So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.
Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.
-
I once found a beautiful book in an antique store, 'Complete Love Lyrics' by Laurence Hope. I shall share some of my favourites:-
Surf Song
by Laurence Hope
My little one, come and listen
To the calling of the sea,
And watch how the wet sands glisten
Where the surf has left them free.
As thou and the wind together
Shall frolic along the strand;
Thy feet as light as a feather
Will hardly dent the sand.
Unwind the veils that enfold thee,
Thou never wast shy with me;
The sea will rejoice to hold thee,
The stars will delight to see.
The beauty thou shalt discover,
Oh, Morning Star of my heart,
Will dazzle even thy lover
Who knows how fair thou art!
it is beautiful lady Misty.
thank you for sharing.
-
I once found a beautiful book in an antique store, 'Complete Love Lyrics' by Laurence Hope. I shall share some of my favourites:-
Surf Song
by Laurence Hope
My little one, come and listen
To the calling of the sea,
And watch how the wet sands glisten
Where the surf has left them free.
As thou and the wind together
Shall frolic along the strand;
Thy feet as light as a feather
Will hardly dent the sand.
Unwind the veils that enfold thee,
Thou never wast shy with me;
The sea will rejoice to hold thee,
The stars will delight to see.
The beauty thou shalt discover,
Oh, Morning Star of my heart,
Will dazzle even thy lover
Who knows how fair thou art!
-
Love Not Me
Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part:
No, nor for a constant heart!
For these may fail or turn to ill:
Should thou and I sever.
Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,
And love me still, but know not why!
So hast thou the same reason still
To dote upon me ever.
- John Wilbye
-
Beauty and Love
Beauty and love are all my dream;
They change not with the changing day;
Love stays forever like a stream
That flows but never flows away;
And beauty is the bright sun-bow
That blossoms on the spray that showers
Where the loud water falls below,
Making a wind among the flowers.
- Andrew Young
-
I love these so very much, it is a whole treasure trove for me to study. I have a few of my favorites to share with you too, I shall hunt them out :-)
cool thing about what we have here is that it is always in just one place and always just 1 click away.
it never moves so there is no time wasted looking for poems to enjoy.
-
Sonnet CXVI
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Oh, no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests.. and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love is not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out.. even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
- William Shakespeare
-
yes these are fun. they are offer so much enjoyment and enrichment.
glad you are enjoying all the poetry and literature here.
at the poem of the day thread, you can even have poems read to you.
-
I love these so very much, it is a whole treasure trove for me to study. I have a few of my favorites to share with you too, I shall hunt them out :-)
-
I am glad you are enjoying all this amazing poetry and literature at Camelot lady TT.
lady Divine and lady Misty Blue have added a whole new dimension to Camelot with their tireless efforts.
-
A Book of Verse
A book of verse, underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread - and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness -
Ah, wilderness were paradise now!
- Omar Khayyam
That's a nice poem. So few words, but such great implications.
-
My Love Is Like to Ice
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How come it then that this her cold is so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which is congealed with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kind.
- by Edmund Spenser
-
A Book of Verse
A book of verse, underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread - and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness -
Ah, wilderness were paradise now!
- Omar Khayyam
-
Wind and Window Flower
Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the caged yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
- Robert Frost
-
She Comes Not
She comes not when Noon is on the roses--
Too bright is Day.
She comes not to the Soul till it reposes
From work and play.
But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices
Roll in from Sea,
By starlight and candle-light and dreamlight
She comes to me.
- Herbert Trench
-
Love's Philosophy
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle;--
Why not I with thine?
See! the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven,
If it disdained it's brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
- Percy Bysshe Shelley
-
O Mistress Mine
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.
What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies not plenty;
Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
- William Shakespeare
-
Sir Walter Raleigh
The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten
In folly ripe, in season rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
But could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.
-
Wondrous Moment
by Alexander Pushkin
The wondrous moment of our meeting . . .
I well remember you appear
Before me like a vision fleeting,
A beauty's angel pure and clear.
In hopeless ennui surrounding
The worldly bustle, to my ear
For long your tender voice kept sounding,
For long in dreams came features dear.
Time passed. Unruly storms confounded
Old dreams, and I from year to year
Forgot how tender you had sounded,
Your heavenly features once so dear.
My backwoods days dragged slow and quiet —
Dull fence around, dark vault above —
Devoid of God and uninspired,
Devoid of tears, of fire, of love.
Sleep from my soul began retreating,
And here you once again appear
Before me like a vision fleeting,
A beauty's angel pure and clear.
In ecstasy the heart is beating,
Old joys for it anew revive;
Inspired and God-filled, it is greeting
The fire, and tears, and love alive.
-
Clenched Soul
Pablo Neruda
We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.
I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.
Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.
I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.
Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?
The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.
-
Confession
by Frantisek Halas (1901 - 1949)
Touched by all that love is
I draw closer toward you
Saddened by all that love is
I run from you
Surprised by all that love is
I remain alert in stillness
Hurt by all that love is
I yearn for tenderness
Defeated by all that love is
at the truthful mouth of the night
Forsaken by all that love is
I will grow toward you.
-
A Dream Within a Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet, if Hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it, therefore, the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
- by Edgar Allen Poe
-
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, hills and fields,
Woods or steepy mountains yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning;
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
- Christopher Marlowe
-
On the Balcony
by D.H. Lawrence
In front of the sombre mountains,
a faint, lost ribbon of rainbow
And between us and it, the thunder;
And down below in the green wheat,
the labourers stand like dark stumps,
still in the green wheat.
You are near to me, and naked feet
In their sandals, and through the
scent of the balcony's naked timber
I distinguish the scent of your hair:
so now the limber
Lightning falls from heaven.
Adown the pale-green glacier river floats
A dark boat through the gloom—
and whither? The thunder roars
But still we have each other!
The naked lightnings in the heavens dither
And disappear—
what have we but each other?
The boat has gone.
-
Beautiful Dreamer
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
- by Stephen Foster
-
Jenny Kissed Me
Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in:
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kissed me.
- by Leigh Hunt
-
Night Thoughts
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Stars, you are unfortunate, I pity you,
Beautiful as you are, shining in your glory,
Who guide seafaring men through stress and peril
And have no recompense from gods or mortals,
Love you do not, nor do you know what love is.
Hours that are aeons urgently conducting
Your figures in a dance through the vast heaven,
What journey have you ended in this moment,
Since lingering in the arms of my beloved
I lost all memory of you and midnight.
-
Beautiful Dreamer
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
- by Stephen Foster
-
There is a Lady Sweet and Kind
There is a lady sweet and kind,
Was never a face so pleased my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I'll love her till I die.
Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I'll love her till I die.
Cupid is winged and he doth range,
Her country, so, my love doth change:
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet, I will love her till I die.
- Thomas Ford
-
A Valentine to My Wife
by Eugene Field (1850-1895)
Accept, dear girl, this little token,
And if between the lines you seek,
You'll find the love I've often spoken
The love my dying lips shall speak.
Our little ones are making merry
O'er am'rous ditties rhymed in jest,
But in these words (though awkward very)
The genuine article's expressed.
You are as fair and sweet and tender,
Dear brown-eyed little sweetheart mine,
As when, a callow youth and slender,
I asked to be your Valentine.
What though these years of ours be fleeting?
What though the years of youth be flown?
I'll mock old Tempus with repeating,
"I love my love and her alone!"
And when I fall before his reaping,
And when my stuttering speech is dumb,
Think not my love is dead or sleeping,
But that it waits for you to come.
So take, dear love, this little token,
And if there speaks in any line
The sentiment I'd fain have spoken,
Say, will you kiss your Valentine?
-
To a Young Lady
by William Cowper
Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world's gay busy throng:
With gentle yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destined course;
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and blest where'er she goes;
Pure-bosom'd as that watery glass,
And Heaven reflected in her face.
-
Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her
by Christopher Brennan (1870-1932)
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Then seek not, sweet, the "If" and "Why"
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.
-
Meeting at Night
by Robert Browning (1812-1889)
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
-
Sonnets from the Portuguese XIV
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
'I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'--
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,--
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby !
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
-- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
-
Farewell to Love
by Michael Drayton (1563 - 1631)
Since there's not help, come let us kiss and part;
Nay, I am done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we, one jot of former love retain.
Now, at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now, if thou woulds't, when all have given him over,
From death to life Thou might'st him yet recover.
-
A Valediction Forbidden Mourning
by John Donne (1572-1631)
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears;
Men reckon what it did, and meant;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers' love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
The thing which elemented it.
But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
-
A Book of Verse
A book of verse, underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread - and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness -
Ah, wilderness were paradise now!
- Omar Khayyam
-
To a Young Lady
by William Cowper
Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world's gay busy throng:
With gentle yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destined course;
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and blest where'er she goes;
Pure-bosom'd as that watery glass,
And Heaven reflected in her face.
-
Love
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
And in Life's noisiest hour,
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,
The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy.
You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within ;
And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart
Thro' all my Being, thro' my pulse's beat ;
You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,
Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve
On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.
And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,
How oft! I bless the Lot that made me love you.
-
First Love
by John Clare
I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet.
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale, a deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked what could I ail
My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away.
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start.
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter's choice
Is love's bed always snow
She seemed to hear my silent voice
Not love appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling place
And can return no more.
-
She Walks In Beauty
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
- Lord Byron
-
Sonnets from the Portuguese 43: How Do I Love Thee
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight.
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
-
Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her
by Christopher Brennan (1870-1932)
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Then seek not, sweet, the "If" and "Why"
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.
-
Love Arm'd
by Aphra Behn
Love in Fantastique Triumph sat,
Whilst bleeding Hearts around him flow'd,
For whom Fresh pains he did create,
And strange Tryanic power he show'd;
From thy Bright Eyes he took his fire,
Which round about, in sport he hurl'd;
But 'twas from mine he took desire,
Enough to undo the Amorous World.
From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his Pride and Crueltie;
From me his Languishments and Feares,
And every Killing Dart from thee;
Thus thou and I, the God have arm'd,
And sett him up a Deity;
But my poor Heart alone is harm'd,
Whilst thine the Victor is, and free.
-
Love's Trinity
by Alfred Austin
Soul, heart, and body, we thus singly name,
Are not in love divisible and distinct,
But each with each inseparably link'd.
One is not honour, and the other shame,
But burn as closely fused as fuel, heat, and flame.
They do not love who give the body and keep
The heart ungiven; nor they who yield the soul,
And guard the body. Love doth give the whole;
Its range being high as heaven, as ocean deep,
Wide as the realms of air or planet's curving sweep
-
Lullaby
by W. H. Auden
Lay Your Sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm:
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While an abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's carnal ecstasy,
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost.
All the dreaded cards foretell.
Shall be paid, but from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought.
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of welcome show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find our mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness find you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.
-
Longing
by Matthew Arnold (1822 1888)
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me.
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth.
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say My love! why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
-
At Last
Elizabeth Akers Allen
At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close—at last—at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,—
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek, in truth,—
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
Broke up the blooming sward of Youth,—
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,—
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
-
I Love Thee
by Eliza Acton, 1799-1859.
I love thee, as I love the calm
Of sweet, star-lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
Of early jes'mine flow'rs.
I love thee, as I love the last
Rich smile of fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
On rapture pass'd away.
I love thee as I love the tone
Of some soft-breathing flute
Whose soul is wak'd for me alone,
When all beside is mute.
I love thee as I love the first
Young violet of the spring;
Or the pale lily, April-nurs'd,
To scented blossoming.
I love thee, as I love the full,
Clear gushings of the song,
Which lonely--sad--and beautiful--
At night-fall floats along,
Pour'd by the bul-bul forth to greet
The hours of rest and dew;
When melody and moonlight meet
To blend their charm, and hue.
I love thee, as the glad bird loves
The freedom of its wing,
On which delightedly it moves
In wildest wandering.
I love thee as I love the swell,
And hush, of some low strain,
Which bringeth, by its gentle spell,
The past to life again.
Such is the feeling which from thee
Nought earthly can allure:
'Tis ever link'd to all I see
Of gifted--high--and pure!
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Top 10 Favorite Love Poems
1.Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare
A Shakrespearean sonnet cherished for over 400 years for it's hopefulness and promis of eternal and unchanging love.
2.Love One Another by Kahlil Gibran
This poem, also titled "On Marriage" explains the great bond between two people and the importance to share, but also the importance to have things to yourself.
3.Meeting at Night by Robert Browning
Love is sometimes something we must go through hurdles to have, but in the end, we are happy and joyful. This poem is listed as a "must read aloud" to gain full appreciation of the writing.
4.My River by Emily Dickinson
Love comes and asks to take her away. She hesitates slightly before agreeing and fleeing into the wonderful sea of love.
5.Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Shelley is masterful in describing love and his philosophy for how it should be treated.
6.Maud by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
A poem about an unnamed lover where the narrator encounters life, death, and the question of afterlife.
7.Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allan Poe
A love so strong that even the angels are jealous. This is Poe's last complete poem and arguably one of his best poetry writings.
8.Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou Art by John Keats
The poet wishes upon the sky to have his love as constant as the bright stars above.
9.To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell
The author tries to convince a woman to respond to his love and make the most of their passion with the short time they have to live.
10.Troilus and Criseyde (Download .zip) by Geoffrey Chaucer
The tragic retelling of the Siege of Troy. This is considered to be Chaucer's finest work.
These poems are recognized around the world as some of the best love poems ever written. Whether you agree or not is another matter. However, they should definitely be put into the conversation and not forgotten about in libraries around the world.
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Welcome to Your Favorite Love Poems
Please post away and have fun.
Please feel free to share your own favorite loves poems with your Camelot family and also the world.
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Constancy
By Joseph Brodsky
Constancy is an evolution of one’s living quarters into
a thought: a continuation of a parallelogram or a rectangle
by means—as Clausewitz would have put it—
of the voice and, ultimately, the gray matter.
Ah, shrunken to the size of a brain-cell parlor
with a lampshade, an armoire in the “Slavic
Glory” fashion, four studded chairs, a sofa,
a bed, a bedside table with
little medicine bottles left there standing like
a kremlin or, better yet, manhattan.
To die, to abandon a family, to go away for good,
to change hemispheres, to let new ovals
be painted into the square—the more
volubly will the gray cell insist
on its actual measurements, demanding
daily sacrifice from the new locale,
from the furniture, from the silhouette in a yellow
dress; in the end—from your very self.
A spider revels in shading especially the fifth corner.
Evolution is not a species’
adjustment to a new environment but one’s memories’
triumph over reality, the ichthyosaurus pining
for the amoeba, the slack vertebrae of a train
thundering in the darkness, past
the mussel shells, tightly shut for the night, with their
spineless, soggy, pearl-shrouding contents.
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A Change of Wind
By Katia Kapovich
On the eighth day he coined the word “alone”
and saw that it was as good as everything else.
A yellow school bus rattled down the lane,
a wind blew in a drainpipe, strong, mellifluous.
I brought two empty crates to the parking lot,
watched neighbors with briefcases and car keys.
At noon a mailman passed by where I sat
invisible, like a tree among trees.
Why, why, I asked. I wanted to know why,
but only scared a squirrel that dropped his acorn
when my voice broke silence unexpectedly—
a white noise in a wireless telephone.
My club soda went flat in the bottle. With a spit
of rain, a wind blew again from the lake.
I raised my index finger and touched it,
pleading, give me a break, give me a break.
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you are welcome lady Divine.
poetry enriches the mind as it also inspires.
I cant write poetry but I am fascinated by it.
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General CD these are incredible works of Art thank you for sharing
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The Mermaids
By Marianne Boruch
The spell is a mouth’s
perilous-o as they dark circle the boats in
their most resplendent pliable armor.
The concept fish aligning with girl
or love with death
to bring down men at sea, temptation
confused into offering,
the mismatch of like plus unlike
really likes, straight to rock bottom.
No equation has ever been this badass.
It’s the men who will enter the spell
so far into exhaustion as weather, as waves,
the tide pulling toward if, letting go then
over the whale road in the company of
the dolphin, the only other animal, I’m told,
who can do it solely for pleasure. It.
You know what I mean. The lower half
aglitter, the top half brainy as beautiful
is sometimes, murderous lovelies, their plotting
and resolve and why not
get these guys good, the lechers.
To see at all in the whirling, to hear
what anyone might
in wind roar and faint whistle —
don’t worry about girls shrewd
as whimsy, legend-tough
to the core. Don’t. But it’s
their spell too, isn’t it? Locked there.
Aligned with singing, dazzle
razor-blackened green. Not that they
miss what human is like or know any end
to waters half born to, from where
they look up.
Men in boats, so sick of the journey.
Men gone stupid with blue,
with vast, with gazing over and away
the whole time until same to same-old to
now they’re mean. After that, small.
Out there, the expanse. In here,
the expanse. The men look down. Aching
misalignment — gorgeous
lure that hides its hook steely sweet
to o my god, little fool’s breath
triumphant, all the way under and am I
not deserving?
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February
By James Schuyler
A chimney, breathing a little smoke.
The sun, I can't see
making a bit of pink
I can't quite see in the blue.
The pink of five tulips
at five p.m. on the day before March first.
The green of the tulip stems and leaves
like something I can't remember,
finding a jack-in-the-pulpit
a long time ago and far away.
Why it was December then
and the sun was on the sea
by the temples we'd gone to see.
One green wave moved in the violet sea
like the UN Building on big evenings,
green and wet
while the sky turns violet.
A few almond trees
had a few flowers, like a few snowflakes
out of the blue looking pink in the light.
A gray hush
in which the boxy trucks roll up Second Avenue
into the sky. They're just
going over the hill.
The green leaves of the tulips on my desk
like grass light on flesh,
and a green-copper steeple
and streaks of cloud beginning to glow.
I can't get over
how it all works in together
like a woman who just came to her window
and stands there filling it
jogging her baby in her arms.
She's so far off. Is it the light
that makes the baby pink?
I can see the little fists
and the rocking-horse motion of her breasts.
It's getting grayer and gold and chilly.
Two dog-size lions face each other
at the corners of a roof.
It's the yellow dust inside the tulips.
It's the shape of a tulip.
It's the water in the drinking glass the tulips are in.
It's a day like any other.
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Horse Latitudes
By Paul Muldoon
Beijing
I could still hear the musicians
cajoling those thousands of clay
horses and horsemen through the squeeze
when I woke beside Carlotta.
Life-size, also. Also terra-cotta.
The sky was still a terra-cotta frieze
over which her grandfather still held sway
with the set square, fretsaw, stencil,
plumb line, and carpenter's pencil
his grandfather brought from Roma.
Proud-fleshed Carlotta. Hypersarcoma.
For now our highest ambition
was simply to bear the light of the day
we had once been planning to seize.
Baginbun
The Nashville skyline's hem and haw
as the freebooters who freeboot
through their contractual mire and murk,
like Normans stampeding dozens
of cows into their Norse-Irish cousins,
were balking now at this massive breastwork
they themselves had thrown up. The pile of toot
on a mirror. The hip-hirple
of a white horse against purple.
Age-old traductions I could trace
from freebasers pretending they freebase
to this inescapable flaw
hidden by Carlotta's close-knit wet suit
like a heart-wound by a hauberk.
Bannockburn
Though he was mounted on a cob
rather than a warhorse, the Bruce
still managed to sidestep a spear
from Henry de Bohun and tax
de Bohun's poll with his broad-based poleax
and leave de Bohun's charger somewhat leer.
Her grandfather had yet to find a use
for the two-timing partisan
his grandfather brought man-to-man
against all those Ferdinandies
until he saw it might come in handy
for whacking the thingammybobs
off pine and fir, off pine and fir and spruce
and all such trees as volunteer.
Berwick-Upon-Tweed
Off the elm, the ancient pollard
that a Flemish painter might love,
that comes to shun the attention
of its headstrong days, so is proof
against the storm that takes its neighbor's roof.
Her nonno collects his pension
knowing that when push really came to shove
he had it within him to wrap
his legs in puttees and backslap
those pack mules down that moonlit deck,
Carlotta now wearing a halter-neck
under the long-sleeved, high-collared
wet suit whereof . . . whereof . . . whereof . . . whereof
I needs must again make mention.
Blaye
Her wet suit like a coat of mail
worn by a French knight from the time
a knight could still cause a ruction
by direct-charging his rouncy,
when an Englishman's home was his bouncy
castle, when abduction and seduction
went hand in glove. Now Carlotta would climb
from the hotel pool in Nashville,
take off her mask, and set a spill
to a Gauloise as one might set
a spill to the fuse of a falconet
and the walls of her chest assail.
The French, meanwhile, were still struggling to prime
their weapons of mass destruction.
Bosworth Field
It was clear now, through the pell-mell
of bombard- and basilisk-mist,
that the Stanleys had done the dirt
on him and taken Henry's side.
Now Richard's very blood seemed to have shied
away from him, seemed to sputter and spurt
like a falcon sheering off from his wrist
as he tried to distance himself
from the same falchioneer who'd pelf
the crown from his blood-matted brow
and hang it in a tree. Less clear was how
he'd managed not to crack the shell
of the pigeon egg the size of a cyst
he'd held so close inside his shirt
Blackwater Fort
As I had held Carlotta close
that night we watched some Xenophon
embedded with the 5th Marines
in the old Sunni Triangle
make a half-assed attempt to untangle
the ghastly from the price of gasoline.
There was a distant fanfaron
in the Nashville sky, where the wind
had now drawn itself up and pinned
on her breast a Texaco star.
"Why," Carlotta wondered, "the House of Tar?
Might it have to do with the gross
imports of crude oil Bush will come clean on
only when the Tigris comes clean?"
Benburb
Those impromptu chevaux-de-frise
into which they galloped full tilt
and impaled themselves have all but
thrown off their balance the banner-
bearing Scots determined to put manners
on the beech mast- and cress- and hazelnut-
eating Irish. However jerry-built,
those chevaux-de-frise have embogged
the horses whose manes they had hogged
so lovingly and decked with knots
of heather, horses rooted to the spots
on which they go down on their knees
as they unwind their shoulder plaids and kilts,
the checkered careers of their guts.
Boyne
The blood slick from the horse slaughter
I could no longer disregard
as Carlotta surfaced like barm.
My putting her through her paces
as she kicked and kicked against the traces
like a pack mule kicking from a yardarm
before it fell, heehaw, in the dockyard.
A banner's frittering tassel
or deflating bouncy castle
was something to which she paid heed
whereas that vision of a milk-white steed
drinking from a tub of water
and breathing hard, breathing a little hard,
had barely set off an alarm.
Blenheim
Small birds were sounding the alert
as I followed her unladen
steed through a dell so dark and dank
she might have sported the waders
her grandfather had worn at the nadir
of his career, scouring the Outer Banks
for mummichog and menhaden.
Those weeks and months in the doldrums
coming back as he ran his thumb
along an old venetian blind
in the hope that something might come to mind,
that he might yet animadvert
the maiden name of that Iron Maiden
on which he was drawing a blank.
Bunker Hill
Carlotta took me in her arms
as a campfire gathers a branch
to itself, her mouth a cauter
set to my bleeding bough, heehaw.
Her grandfather sterilizing his saw
in a tub of 100-proof firewater,
a helper standing by to stanch
the bleeding in some afterlife.
No looking daggers at the knife.
She'd meet the breast-high parapet
with the nonchalance, the no **** sweat
of a slightly skanky schoolmarm
though the surgeon was preparing to ganch
her like What's-his-face's Daughter.
Brandywine
I crouched in my own Little Ease
by the pool at the Vanderbilt
where Carlotta crouched, sputter-sput,
just as she had in the scanner
when the nurse, keen-sighted as a lanner,
picked out a tumor like a rabbit scut
on dark ground. It was as if a fine silt,
white sand or silicate, had clogged
her snorkel, her goggles had fogged,
and Carlotta surfaced like flot
to be skimmed off some great cast-iron pot
as garble is skimmed off, or lees
painstakingly drained by turnings and tilts
from a man-size barrel or butt.
Badli-Ke-Serai
Pork barrels. Pork butts. The wide-screen
surround sound of a massed attack
upon the thin red cellulose
by those dust- or fust- or must-cells
that cause the tears to well and well and well.
At which I see him turning up his nose
as if he'd bitten on a powder-pack
like yet another sad Sepoy
who won't fall for the British ploy
of greasing with ham the hammer
or smoothing over Carlotta's grammar:
"On which . . . On which Bush will come clean."
Her grandfather a man who sees no lack
of manhood in the lachrymose.
Bull Run
While some think there's nothing more rank
than the pool that's long stood aloof
from the freshet, I loved the smell
of sweat and blood and, sí, horse dung
Carlotta shouldered like an Aqua-Lung
as she led me now through that dewy dell
and spread her House of Tartan waterproof.
As we lay there I could have sworn,
as I stared through unruffled thorns
that were an almost perfect fit
to each side of the gravel pit
where she and I'd tried to outflank
each other, I traced the mark of a hoof
(or horseshoe) in her fontanelle.
Bronkhorstspruit
I traced the age-old traduction
of a stream through a thorn thicket
as a gush from a farthingale.
Skeffington's Daughter. Skeffington.
Attention. Shun. Attention. Shun. Shun. Shun.
We lay in a siding between two rails
and watched an old white horse cross the picket
of himself and trek through the scrub
to drink from an iron-hooped tub
with the snore-snort of a tuba.
His winkers and bellyband said scuba,
while his sudden loss of suction
Carlotta knew meant a pump whose clicket's
failed in the way a clicket fails.
Basra
"The way to relieve the tension
on the line to a windjammer
is to lubricate the bollard
so it's always a little slack . . ."
Her nonno giving us the inside track
on how the mule drivers whooped and hollered
on the dock. No respite from his yammer
on boundlessness being a bind
and the most insidious kind
of censorship self-censorship
while he took Carlotta for a quick whip
through conjugation, declension,
and those other "crannies of the crammer"
in which she'd been "quite unscholared."
Bazentin
As I was bringing up her rear
a young dragoon would **** a snook
at the gunners raking the knob
of High Wood. Tongue like a scaldy
in a nest. Hadn't a Garibaldi
what might lie behind that low-level throb
like a niggle in her appointment book.
Dust? Fust? Must? The dragoon nonplussed
by his charger taking the rust
and, despite her recalcitrance,
Carlotta making a modest advance
when the thought of a falchioneer
falling to with his two-faced reaping hook
now brought back her grandfather's job.
Beersheba
Now summoned also the young Turk
who had suddenly arisen
from that great pile of toot, heehaw,
as from one of Beersheba's wells.
Like the sail that all of a sudden swells
on the yawl that all of a sudden yaws,
a wind finding meaning in a mizzen
and toppling a bouncy castle.
Her grandfather fain to wrastle
each pack mule to a rubber mat
whereat . . . whereat . . . whereat . . . whereat . . . whereat . . .
he would eftsoons get down to work,
reaching into its wide-open wizen
while a helper clamped back its jaws.
Burma
Her grandfather's job was to cut
the vocal cords of each pack mule
with a single, swift excision,
a helper standing by to wrench
the mule's head fiercely to one side and drench
it with hooch he'd kept since Prohibition.
"Why," Carlotta wondered, "that fearsome tool?
Was it for fear the mules might bray
and give their position away?"
At which I see him thumb the shade
as if he were once more testing a blade
and hear the two-fold snapping shut
of his four-fold, brass-edged carpenter's rule:
"And give away their position."
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Innocence
By Linda Hogan
There is nothing more innocent
than the still-unformed creature I find beneath soil,
neither of us knowing what it will become
in the abundance of the planet.
It makes a living only by remaining still
in its niche.
One day it may struggle out of its tender
pearl of blind skin
with a wing or with vision
leaving behind the transparent.
I cover it again, keep laboring,
hands in earth, myself a singular body.
Watching things grow,
wondering how
a cut blade of grass knows
how to turn sharp again at the end.
This same growing must be myself,
not aware yet of what I will become
in my own fullness
inside this simple flesh.
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To Be Held
By Linda Hogan
To be held
by the light
was what I wanted,
to be a tree drinking the rain,
no longer parched in this hot land.
To be roots in a tunnel growing
but also to be sheltering the inborn leaves
and the green slide of mineral
down the immense distances
into infinite comfort
and the land here, only clay,
still contains and consumes
the thirsty need
the way a tree always shelters the unborn life
waiting for the healing
after the storm
which has been our life.
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Origin & Ash
By Tina Chang
Powder rises
from a compact, platters full of peppermints,
a bowl of sour pudding.
A cup of milk before me tastes of melted almonds.
It is the story of the eve of my beginning. Gifts for me:
boxes of poppies, pocket knife,
an elaborate necklace
made of ladybugs.
My skirt rushing north
There is something round and toothless
about my dolls.
They have no faith. Their mouths, young muscle
to cut me down.
Their pupils, miniature bruises.
I hear the cries of horses, long faces famished,
the night the barn burned.
God and ashes everywhere.
Burnt pennies, I loved them, I could not catch them
in their copper rolling.
My mother's cigarette burns amber in a crystal glass.
I am in bed imagining great infernos.
Ashes skimming my deep lake.
The night the animals burned,
I kissed the servant with the salty lips.
There was a spectacular explosion, a sound
that severed the nerves, I was kind
to that shaking. The horses,
the smell of them, like wet leaves, broken skin.
Laughing against a wall,
my hair sweeps the windowsill,
thighs show themselves.
First came my body, my statue's back, then hair electric,
matches falling everywhere.
Tucked in my pink canopy, I am plastic,
worn cheeks grinning.
I found my little ones hiding from me,
crying into their sleeves. They are really
from a breeze, momentarily, white.
When we unburied the dolls, red ants were a fantasy
feeding on them, nest of veins, shrunken salted corpses.
There is mythology planted in my mouth which is like sin.
Keep fires inside yourself.
My mother once said, When you were a baby,
I let you swim in a basin of water
until your lungs stopped. Since then, my eyes were open windows,
the year everything fell into them.
Cicadas hissing.
Ashes on my open book.
Ashes in mother's hair. Ashes on my baby brother.
The streets are arid, driven toward fire.
If I hurry, I will dance with my father before the sun sets,
my slippers clicking
on a thin layer of rain.
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http://wp.me/p5qQe8-1O
●Many New Poems on WordPress!●
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your center continues to grow Anne.
keep up the good work.
we will all help you here as much as we can.
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http://wp.me/p5qQe8-1u
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https://annecline.wordpress.com/
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http://wp.me/p5qQe8-18
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http://wp.me/p5qQe8-15
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Hot pink clouds shroud sacred sun.
Awakens me, the days begun.
Naked branches on the trees,
Jostling around the frosty breeze.
Golden sunlight wakes the hillsides,
Glistening dew drops - near, far and wide.
Inside the coffees piping hot,
The fireside is the cozy spot.
The old dry logs do pop and crack,
Distant train bumps down the track.
A moment to take in every sound,
Upstairs the children scurry around.
Prepare for yet another day,
Filled with books, and smiles at play.
I'll spend just one sweet moment more,
Sip hot coffee and just adore-
These morning moments my own way,
Appreciate the life I have this day.
~Anne Cline
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Thank you so much, I am glad you enjoyed them! ♡
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Intuition ~ A Poem
Souls on this earth - we are trapped in a shell.
Lessons are learned, through our personal Hell.
No soul is spared these proclivities,
No one is denied love, loss and disease.
This shell which shrouds, our most precious light,
Conceals our true beauty from mere mortals sight.
It burns like an inferno - each body, within.
The memories of past, called intuition.
If each clumsy human that's plodding around.
Took pause to just dance to this spiritual sound.
And not take for granted the love we can share,
Give love and compassion, give hope and give care.
We'd find that our problems are not so unique.
Learn about this mystery, called love we all seek.
Wake up refreshed, fullfilled and brand new,
Knowing our light was now shining through.
So judge not each human by the outside you see.
Allow intuition - to act as your key.
Unlock these broad doors, to the soul trapped within.
You'll find love like a vacuum - will come rushing in.
~ Anne Cline
These are great thoughts, and so well put.
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http://wp.me/p5qQe8-L
That's really beautiful, Anne.
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http://wp.me/p5qQe8-R
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http://wp.me/p5qQe8-L
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Intuition ~ A Poem
Souls on this earth - we are trapped in a shell.
Lessons are learned, through our personal Hell.
No soul is spared these proclivities,
No one is denied love, loss and disease.
This shell which shrouds, our most precious light,
Conceals our true beauty from mere mortals sight.
It burns like an inferno - each body, within.
The memories of past, called intuition.
If each clumsy human that's plodding around.
Took pause to just dance to this spiritual sound.
And not take for granted the love we can share,
Give love and compassion, give hope and give care.
We'd find that our problems are not so unique.
Learn about this mystery, called love we all seek.
Wake up refreshed, fullfilled and brand new,
Knowing our light was now shining through.
So judge not each human by the outside you see.
Allow intuition - to act as your key.
Unlock these broad doors, to the soul trapped within.
You'll find love like a vacuum - will come rushing in.
~ Anne Cline
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https://annecline.wordpress.com/2014/12/09/intuition-a-poem/
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The Web
This Web it wraps around the globe,
Needs no wire to link its probe.
Climbs in our homes and thus our mind.
Begins to draw in so much time.
Many preach it's evil wiles,
Users beware of trollers smiles.
But something magical it seems,
Generates these ethereal streams.
Giving power through music and sound,
Messages of hope from all around.
A smiling hello from across the world,
Strangers become friends as their stories unfurl.
You see people you'd never have chances to meet.
Strolling along the World Wide Web street.
So dear friends I must "Thank You" and do not regret.
Our chance encounter - on this Internet.
~Anne Cline Miles Between
Many people live far away,
From the people who they love each day.
Miles of land, of trees and sea,
Prevent you-from being next to me.
The bonds of love they keep us close,
Though miles between-we think of most.
We use what time we can and do,
Use text to chat and cell phones too.
Video clips and photos shared,
While closeness, we do need-is spared.
Now and then we drive and fly,
Embrace in hugs-sit close by.
Catch up on moments we were lacking,
Sit up too late-mindlessly snacking.
Then like a flash, the days are past,
Though time speeds on, the memories last.
No price applies to time well spent.
For loved ones sure are Heaven sent.
~Anne Cline
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http://wp.me/p5qQe8-t
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Miles Between
Many people live far away,
From the people who they love each day.
Miles of land, of trees and sea,
Prevent you-from being next to me.
The bonds of love they keep us close,
Though miles between-we think of most.
We use what time we can and do,
Use text to chat and cell phones too.
Video clips and photos shared,
While closeness, we do need-is spared.
Now and then we drive and fly,
Embrace in hugs-sit close by.
Catch up on moments we were lacking,
Sit up too late-mindlessly snacking.
Then like a flash, the days are past,
Though time speeds on, the memories last.
No price applies to time well spent.
For loved ones sure are Heaven sent.
~Anne Cline
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fantastic poems Anne.
your creativity and your ability to create magic with words is amazing.
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Widows Lament
My husband died on Christmas Eve,
His suffering long endured.
Myself and son's we prayed and prayed,
And hoped that he'd be cured.
I tried to stay steadfast and strong,
As I watched my family break.
The tears that filled my children's eyes,
Was more than I could take.
So numb of soul-and heart and mind,
I prod each one along.
Try to be the anchor,
So that they can all cling on.
Inside there grew a coldness,
Where once, a fair heart had been.
Aware of only sadness,
The blackness grew within.
And so I pushed myself to do,
The things I'd always dreamed.
Follow the light inside my soul,
As impossible as it seemed.
And as I tried to push my heart,
Into the world of the living.
I found the place was also dark,
Cruel and unforgiving.
And so I realized at once,
To settle back, and then.
Proceed with much more caution-
Where my trust had always been.
The journey now I take it slow,
Still shrouded by this veil.
But I feed that inner light within.
Cause it will never fail.
~Anne Cline
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Acceptance
A friend of mine was writing,
Of clearing out some friends.
He spoke of judging them by actions,
As words are just tone blends.
These words did seem to many wise,
The thumbs they all popped up.
But then it started me to thinking,
And really woke me up.
The compassion that this posting lacked,
Like friends are just dismissed.
But eloquently put of course,
Was missing the whole gist.
For life is ups and downs we know,
Not rosey all the time.
And friends are not disposable,
If you have a clear frame of mind.
I thought back to other posts I've read,
How the joyous are judged as braggards.
Seems no matter what people say,
Someone is always throwing daggers.
So before you cast your judgments,
Analyzing all your friends.
Consider the path that they walk on,
Perhaps theirs is now on a bend.
Maybe they need a kind ear,
And not one to pick them apart.
Stop trying to fix every problem.
Just listen to them with your heart.
Casting away human beings,
Is a bold move to make in one's life.
You miss out on important lessons,
Have to endure considerable strife.
So I had to express my sad feelings,
That a person would lose someone dear.
Because of judgement and perceptions,
And simply refusing to hear.
Hear with the soul what their saying,
Let the person know you are there.
That person may be struggling,
There are hardships in life we all bear.
If we expected each human being,
To be perfect and beaming with light.
There'd be not a single friendship on earth, dear-
That's a lonely and pitiful sight.
~Anne Cline
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this poem is nothing short of amazing.
awesome creativity.
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Hearts Journey
When one soul finds another fair,
Curiosity is piqued - love in the air.
The journey of heart, of mind begins.
A burning fire swells within.
And if both souls-draw together.
Upon a path they'll walk-forever.
A journey begins, if their love does awake.
Only if both hearts, do not forsake.
But travel along, side by side keeping strong.
The heart of the other, when their day has been long.
Only when each one takes time to partake,
In the joys and the hardships that life will sure make.
These two souls bond closer-with each day that's past.
Taking comfort in building a love that will last.
It is trust, it is honor and respect there's no doubt.
It's a choice that we make-nothing to figure out.
As the years stack up slowly,then quickly and when,
The journey of one ends and then they transcend.
But one soul is left on the path they did forge,
Separated now, by deaths mighty gorge.
The soul that's remaining feels no hope left in sight.
The path seems so narrow, and dark as the night.
Then through the black-hopeless-seeming abyss,
Takes hold the memory-of your tender kiss.
Suddenly the trail where your broke down on all fours,
Seems wider and brighter than ever before.
For your heart shared a journey most patient and fine.
And the truest of Love, it does last for all time.
So you lift yourself up and return to the path,
For this is what we are to do against wrath.
The Love that you share it endures till the end.
No passing away-can take memories my friend.
~Anne Cline
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you are welcome.
I will be making more contributions in the comings days.
This thread has the potential to be huge down the road.
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Thank you for sharing this interesting poem and including the interpretation.
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Notes
[The references are, except in the first note only, to the stanzas of
the Fifth edition.]
(Stanza I.) Flinging a Stone into the Cup was the signal for "To
Horse!" in the Desert.
(II.) The "False Dawn"; Subhi Kazib, a transient Light on the Horizon
about an hour before the Subhi sadik or True Dawn; a well-known
Phenomenon in the East.
(IV.) New Year. Beginning with the Vernal Equinox, it must be
remembered; and (howsoever the old Solar Year is practically
superseded by the clumsy Lunar Year that dates from the Mohammedan
Hijra) still commemorated by a Festival that is said to have been
appointed by the very Jamshyd whom Omar so often talks of, and whose
yearly Calendar he helped to rectify.
"The sudden approach and rapid advance of the Spring," says Mr.
Binning, "are very striking. Before the Snow is well off the Ground,
the Trees burst into Blossom, and the Flowers start from the Soil. At
Naw Rooz (their New Year's Day) the Snow was lying in patches on the
Hills and in the shaded Vallies, while the Fruit-trees in the Garden
were budding beautifully, and green Plants and Flowers springing upon
the Plains on every side--
'And on old Hyems' Chin and icy Crown
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set--'--
Among the Plants newly appear'd I recognized some Acquaintances I had
not seen for many a Year: among these, two varieties of the Thistle; a
coarse species of the Daisy, like the Horse-gowan; red and white
clover; the Dock; the blue Cornflower; and that vulgar Herb the
Dandelion rearing its yellow crest on the Banks of the Water-courses."
The Nightingale was not yet heard, for the Rose was not yet blown: but
an almost identical Blackbird and Woodpecker helped to make up
something of a North-country Spring.
"The White Hand of Moses." Exodus iv. 6; where Moses draws forth his
Hand--not, according to the Persians, "leprous as Snow," but white, as
our May-blossom in Spring perhaps. According to them also the Healing
Power of Jesus resided in his Breath.
(V.) Iram, planted by King Shaddad, and now sunk somewhere in the
Sands of Arabia. Jamshyd's Seven-ring'd Cup was typical of the 7
Heavens, 7 Planets, 7 Seas, &c., and was a Divining Cup.
(VI.) Pehlevi, the old Heroic Sanskrit of Persia. Hafiz also speaks
of the Nightingale's Pehlevi, which did not change with the People's.
I am not sure if the fourth line refers to the Red Rose looking
sickly, or to the Yellow Rose that ought to be Red; Red, White, and
Yellow Roses all common in Persia. I think that Southey in his Common-
Place Book, quotes from some Spanish author about the Rose being White
till 10 o'clock; "Rosa Perfecta" at 2; and "perfecta incarnada" at 5.
(X.) Rustum, the "Hercules" of Persia, and Zal his Father, whose
exploits are among the most celebrated in the Shahnama. Hatim Tai, a
well-known type of Oriental Generosity.
(XIII.) A Drum--beaten outside a Palace.
(XIV.) That is, the Rose's Golden Centre.
(XVIII.) Persepolis: call'd also Takht-i-Jam-shyd--THE THRONE OF
JAMSHYD, "King Splendid," of the mythical Peshdadian Dynasty, and
supposed (according to the Shah-nama) to have been founded and built
by him. Others refer it to the Work of the Genie King, Jan Ibn
Jan--who also built the Pyramids--before the time of Adam.
BAHRAM GUR.--Bahram of the Wild Ass--a Sassanian Sovereign--had also
his Seven Castles (like the King of Bohemia!) each of a different
Colour: each with a Royal Mistress within; each of whom tells him a
Story, as told in one of the most famous Poems of Persia, written by
Amir Khusraw: all these Sevens also figuring (according to Eastern
Mysticism) the Seven Heavens; and perhaps the Book itself that Eighth,
into which the mystical Seven transcend, and within which they
revolve. The Ruins of Three of those Towers are yet shown by the
Peasantry; as also the Swamp in which Bahram sunk, like the Master of
Ravenswood, while pursuing his Gur.
The Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw,
And Kings the forehead on his threshold drew--
I saw the solitary Ringdove there,
And "Coo, coo, coo," she cried; and "Coo, coo, coo."
[Included in Nicolas's edition as No. 350 of the Rubaiyat, and also in
Mr. Whinfield's translation.]
This Quatrain Mr. Binning found, among several of Hafiz and others,
inscribed by some stray hand among the ruins of Persepolis. The
Ringdove's ancient Pehlevi Coo, Coo, Coo, signifies also in Persian
"Where? Where? Where?" In Attar's "Bird-parliament" she is reproved
by the Leader of the Birds for sitting still, and for ever harping on
that one note of lamentation for her lost Yusuf.
Apropos of Omar's Red Roses in Stanza xix, I am reminded of an old
English Superstition, that our Anemone Pulsatilla, or purple "Pasque
Flower," (which grows plentifully about the Fleam Dyke, near
Cambridge,) grows only where Danish Blood has been spilt.
(XXI.) A thousand years to each Planet.
(XXXI.) Saturn, Lord of the Seventh Heaven.
(XXXII.) ME-AND-THEE: some dividual Existence or Personality distinct
from the Whole.
(XXXVII.) One of the Persian Poets--Attar, I think--has a pretty story
about this. A thirsty Traveller dips his hand into a Spring of Water
to drink from. By-and-by comes another who draws up and drinks from
an earthen bowl, and then departs, leaving his Bowl behind him. The
first Traveller takes it up for another draught; but is surprised to
find that the same Water which had tasted sweet from his own hand
tastes bitter from the earthen Bowl. But a Voice--from Heaven, I
think--tells him the clay from which the Bowl is made was once Man;
and, into whatever shape renew'd, can never lose the bitter flavour of
Mortality.
(XXXIX.) The custom of throwing a little Wine on the ground before
drinking still continues in Persia, and perhaps generally in the East.
Mons. Nicolas considers it "un signe de liberalite, et en meme temps
un avertissement que le buveur doit vider sa coupe jusqu'a la derniere
goutte." Is it not more likely an ancient Superstition; a Libation to
propitiate Earth, or make her an Accomplice in the illicit Revel? Or,
perhaps, to divert the Jealous Eye by some sacrifice of superfluity,
as with the Ancients of the West? With Omar we see something more is
signified; the precious Liquor is not lost, but sinks into the ground
to refresh the dust of some poor Wine-worshipper foregone.
Thus Hafiz, copying Omar in so many ways: "When thou drinkest Wine
pour a draught on the ground. Wherefore fear the Sin which brings to
another Gain?"
(XLIII.) According to one beautiful Oriental Legend, Azrael
accomplishes his mission by holding to the nostril an Apple from the
Tree of Life.
This, and the two following Stanzas would have been withdrawn, as
somewhat de trop, from the Text, but for advice which I least like to
disregard.
(LI.) From Mah to Mahi; from Fish to Moon.
(LVI.) A Jest, of course, at his Studies. A curious mathematical
Quatrain of Omar's has been pointed out to me; the more curious
because almost exactly parallel'd by some Verses of Doctor Donne's,
that are quoted in Izaak Walton's Lives! Here is Omar: "You and I are
the image of a pair of compasses; though we have two heads (sc. our
feet) we have one body; when we have fixed the centre for our circle,
we bring our heads (sc. feet) together at the end." Dr. Donne:
If we be two, we two are so
As stiff twin-compasses are two;
Thy Soul, the fixt foot, makes no show
To move, but does if the other do.
And though thine in the centre sit,
Yet when my other far does roam,
Thine leans and hearkens after it,
And rows erect as mine comes home.
Such thou must be to me, who must
Like the other foot obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And me to end where I begun.
(LIX.) The Seventy-two Religions supposed to divide the World,
including Islamism, as some think: but others not.
(LX.) Alluding to Sultan Mahmud's Conquest of India and its dark
people.
(LXVIII.) Fanusi khiyal, a Magic-lanthorn still used in India; the
cylindrical Interior being painted with various Figures, and so
lightly poised and ventilated as to revolve round the lighted Candle
within.
(LXX.) A very mysterious Line in the Original:
O danad O danad O danad O--
breaking off something like our Wood-pigeon's Note, which she is said
to take up just where she left off.
(LXXV.) Parwin and Mushtari--The Pleiads and Jupiter.
(LXXXVII.) This Relation of Pot and Potter to Man and his Maker
figures far and wide in the Literature of the World, from the time of
the Hebrew Prophets to the present; when it may finally take the name
of "Pot theism," by which Mr. Carlyle ridiculed Sterling's
"Pantheism." My Sheikh, whose knowledge flows in from all quarters,
writes to me--
"Apropos of old Omar's Pots, did I ever tell you the sentence I found
in 'Bishop Pearson on the Creed'? 'Thus are we wholly at the disposal
of His will, and our present and future condition framed and ordered
by His free, but wise and just, decrees. Hath not the potter power
over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and
another unto dishonour? (Rom. ix. 21.) And can that earth-artificer
have a freer power over his brother potsherd (both being made of the
same metal), than God hath over him, who, by the strange fecundity of
His omnipotent power, first made the clay out of nothing, and then him
out of that?'"
And again--from a very different quarter--"I had to refer the other
day to Aristophanes, and came by chance on a curious Speaking-pot
story in the Vespae, which I had quite forgotten.
"The Pot calls a bystander to be a witness to his bad treatment. The
woman says, 'If, by Proserpine, instead of all this 'testifying'
(comp. Cuddie and his mother in 'Old Mortality!') you would buy
yourself a rivet, it would show more sense in you!' The Scholiast
explains echinus as"
One more illustration for the oddity's sake from the "Autobiography of
a Cornish Rector," by the late James Hamley Tregenna. 1871.
"There was one odd Fellow in our Company--he was so like a Figure in
the 'Pilgrim's Progress' that Richard always called him the
'ALLEGORY,' with a long white beard--a rare Appendage in those
days--and a Face the colour of which seemed to have been baked in,
like the Faces one used to see on Earthenware Jugs. In our Country-
dialect Earthenware is called 'Clome'; so the Boys of the Village used
to shout out after him--'Go back to the Potter, Old Clomeface, and get
baked over again.' For the 'Allegory,' though shrewd enough in most
things, had the reputation of being 'saift-baked,' i.e., of weak
intellect."
(XC.) At the Close of the Fasting Month, Ramazan (which makes the
Mussulman unhealthy and unamiable), the first Glimpse of the New Moon
(who rules their division of the Year) is looked for with the utmost
Anxiety, and hailed with Acclamation. Then it is that the Porter's
Knot maybe heard--toward the Cellar. Omar has elsewhere a pretty
Quatrain about the same Moon--
"Be of Good Cheer--the sullen Month will die,
And a young Moon requite us by and by:
Look how the Old one meagre, bent, and wan
With Age and Fast, is fainting from the Sky!"
The End
-
LXI.
Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?
A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?
And if a Curse--why, then, Who set it there?
LXII.
I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,
Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!
LXIII.
Of threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!
One thing at least is certain--This Life flies;
One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
LXIV.
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.
LXV.
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep
They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.
LXVI.
I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
LXVII.
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
LXVIII.
We are no other than a moving row
Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go
Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held
In Midnight by the Master of the Show;
LXIX.
But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays
Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;
Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
LXX.
The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Here or There as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd you down into the Field,
He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!
LXXI.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
LXXII.
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help--for It
As impotently moves as you or I.
LXXIII.
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
And the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
LXXIV.
YESTERDAY This Day's Madness did prepare;
TO-MORROW's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you not know whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
LXXV.
I tell you this--When, started from the Goal,
Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.
LXXVI.
The Vine had struck a fiber: which about
It clings my Being--let the Dervish flout;
Of my Base metal may be filed a Key
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.
LXXVII.
And this I know: whether the one True Light
Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,
One Flash of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.
LXXVIII.
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
LXXIX.
What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent him dross-allay'd--
Sue for a Debt he never did contract,
And cannot answer--Oh the sorry trade!
LXXX.
Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round
Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!
LXXXI.
Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake:
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd--Man's forgiveness give--and take!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
LXXXII.
As under cover of departing Day
Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazan away,
Once more within the Potter's house alone
I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.
LXXXIII.
Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small,
That stood along the floor and by the wall;
And some loquacious Vessels were; and some
Listen'd perhaps, but never talk'd at all.
LXXXIV.
Said one among them--"Surely not in vain
My substance of the common Earth was ta'en
And to this Figure molded, to be broke,
Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again."
LXXXV.
Then said a Second--"Ne'er a peevish Boy
Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy;
And He that with his hand the Vessel made
Will surely not in after Wrath destroy."
LXXXVI.
After a momentary silence spake
Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make;
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry:
What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
LXXXVII.
Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot--
I think a Sufi pipkin--waxing hot--
"All this of Pot and Potter--Tell me then,
Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"
LXXXVIII.
"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell
Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marr'd in making--Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."
LXXXIX.
"Well," murmured one, "Let whoso make or buy,
My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry:
But fill me with the old familiar Juice,
Methinks I might recover by and by."
XC.
So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
The little Moon look'd in that all were seeking:
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!
Now for the Porter's shoulders' knot a-creaking!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
XCI.
Ah, with the Grape my fading life provide,
And wash the Body whence the Life has died,
And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,
By some not unfrequented Garden-side.
XCII.
That ev'n buried Ashes such a snare
Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air
As not a True-believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.
XCIII.
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my credit in this World much wrong:
Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup,
And sold my reputation for a Song.
XCIV.
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore--but was I sober when I swore?
And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.
XCV.
And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honor--Well,
I wonder often what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the stuff they sell.
XCVI.
Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the branches sang,
Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
XCVII.
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse--if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
To which the fainting Traveler might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
XCVIII.
Would but some winged Angel ere too late
Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,
And make the stern Recorder otherwise
Enregister, or quite obliterate!
XCIX.
Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
C.
Yon rising Moon that looks for us again--
How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;
How oft hereafter rising look for us
Through this same Garden--and for one in vain!
CI.
And when like her, oh Saki, you shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!
TAMAM.
-
LXXIV.
Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,
The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:
How oft hereafter rising shall she look
Through this same Garden after me--in vain!
LXXV.
And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on The Grass,
And in Thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made one--turn down an empty Glass!
TAMAM SHUD.
Fifth Edition
I.
WAKE! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes
The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.
II.
Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
"Why nods the drowsy Worshiper outside?"
III.
And, as the **** crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door!
"You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."
IV.
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
V.
Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,
And many a Garden by the Water blows.
VI.
And David's lips are lockt; but in divine
High-piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
"Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That sallow cheek of hers to' incarnadine.
VII.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
Your Winter garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing.
VIII.
Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
IX.
Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.
X.
Well, let it take them! What have we to do
With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru?
Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they will,
Or Hatim call to Supper--heed not you.
XI.
With me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot--
And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!
XII.
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
XIII.
Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
XIV.
Look to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow,
At once the silken tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."
XV.
And those who husbanded the Golden grain,
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
XVI.
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face,
Lighting a little hour or two--is gone.
XVII.
Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.
XVIII.
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.
XIX.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
XX.
And this reviving Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean--
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!
XXI.
Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears:
To-morrow--Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.
XXII.
For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.
XXIII.
And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend--ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?
XXIV.
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!
XXV.
Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And those that after some TO-MORROW stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries,
"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There."
XXVI.
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so wisely--they are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
XXVII.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same door where in I went.
XXVIII.
With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow;
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
XXIX.
Into this Universe, and Why not knowing
Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing;
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.
XXX.
What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence!
Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine
Must drown the memory of that insolence!
XXXI.
Up from Earth's Center through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road;
But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.
XXXII.
There was the Door to which I found no Key;
There was the Veil through which I might not see:
Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE
There was--and then no more of THEE and ME.
XXXIII.
Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord Forlorn;
Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd
And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.
XXXIV.
Then of the THEE IN ME who works behind
The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find
A lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard,
As from Without--"THE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!"
XXXV.
Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live,
"Drink!--for, once dead, you never shall return."
XXXVI.
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd,
How many Kisses might it take--and give!
XXXVII.
For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
XXXVIII.
And has not such a Story from of Old
Down Man's successive generations roll'd
Of such a clod of saturated Earth
Cast by the Maker into Human mold?
XXXIX.
And not a drop that from our Cups we throw
For Earth to drink of, but may steal below
To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye
There hidden--far beneath, and long ago.
XL.
As then the Tulip for her morning sup
Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up,
Do you devoutly do the like, till Heav'n
To Earth invert you--like an empty Cup.
XLI.
Perplext no more with Human or Divine,
To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,
And lose your fingers in the tresses of
The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.
XLII.
And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End in what All begins and ends in--Yes;
Think then you are TO-DAY what YESTERDAY
You were--TO-MORROW you shall not be less.
XLIII.
So when that Angel of the darker Drink
At last shall find you by the river-brink,
And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink.
XLIV.
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Were't not a Shame--were't not a Shame for him
In this clay carcass crippled to abide?
XLV.
'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash
Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
XLVI.
And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, and mine, should know the like no more;
The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd
Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.
XLVII.
When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.
XLVIII.
A Moment's Halt--a momentary taste
Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste--
And Lo!--the phantom Caravan has reach'd
The NOTHING it set out from--Oh, make haste!
XLIX.
Would you that spangle of Existence spend
About THE SECRET--quick about it, Friend!
A Hair perhaps divides the False from True--
And upon what, prithee, may life depend?
L.
A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;
Yes; and a single Alif were the clue--
Could you but find it--to the Treasure-house,
And peradventure to THE MASTER too;
LI.
Whose secret Presence through Creation's veins
Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains;
Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi and
They change and perish all--but He remains;
LII.
A moment guessed--then back behind the Fold
Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd
Which, for the Pastime of Eternity,
He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.
LIII.
But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor
Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door,
You gaze TO-DAY, while You are You--how then
TO-MORROW, when You shall be You no more?
LIV.
Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavor and dispute;
Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
LV.
You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
I made a Second Marriage in my house;
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
LVI.
For "Is" and "Is-not" though with Rule and Line
And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define,
Of all that one should care to fathom, I
was never deep in anything but--Wine.
LVII.
Ah, by my Computations, People say,
Reduce the Year to better reckoning?--Nay,
'Twas only striking from the Calendar
Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday.
LVIII.
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!
LIX.
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice
Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute;
LX.
The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.
-
XXXIII.
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And--"A blind understanding!" Heav'n replied.
XXXIV.
Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live,
Drink!--for once dead you never shall return."
XXXV.
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd
How many Kisses might it take--and give.
XXXVI.
For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
XXXVII.
Ah, fill the Cup:--what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn TO-MORROW and dead YESTERDAY,
Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!
XXXVIII.
One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One moment, of the Well of Life to taste--
The Stars are setting, and the Caravan
Starts for the dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!
XXXIX.
How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
XL.
You know, my Friends, how long since in my House
For a new Marriage I did make Carouse:
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
XLI.
For "IS" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line,
And, "UP-AND-DOWN" without, I could define,
I yet in all I only cared to know,
Was never deep in anything but--Wine.
XLII.
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape,
Bearing a vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!
XLIII.
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice
Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.
XLIV.
The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.
XLV.
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
XLVI.
For in and out, above, about, below,
'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
XLVII.
And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End in the Nothing all Things end in--Yes-
Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what
Thou shalt be--Nothing--Thou shalt not be less.
XLVIII.
While the Rose blows along the River Brink,
With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink:
And when the Angel with his darker Draught
Draws up to thee--take that, and do not shrink.
XLVIX.
'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
L.
The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!
LI.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
LII.
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to IT for help--for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
LIII.
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
LIV.
I tell Thee this--When, starting from the Goal,
Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul
LV.
The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about
It clings my Being--let the Sufi flout;
Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.
LVI.
And this I know: whether the one True Light,
Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,
One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.
LVII.
Oh Thou who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
LVIII.
Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
KUZA--NAMA. ("Book of Pots")
LIX.
Listen again. One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay Population round in Rows.
LX.
And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried--
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"
LXI.
Then said another--"Surely not in vain
My substance from the common Earth was ta'en,
That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
Should stamp me back to common Earth again."
LXII.
Another said--"Why, ne'er a peevish Boy
Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;
Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love
And Fansy, in an after Rage destroy!"
LXIII.
None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
What? did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
LXIV.
Said one--"Folks of a surly Tapster tell,
And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
They talk of some strict Testing of us--Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."
LXV.
Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,
"My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!"
LXVI.
So, while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!
Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
LXVII.
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the life has died,
And in a Windingsheet of Vineleaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Gardenside.
LXVIII.
That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare
Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
As not a True Believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.
LXIX.
Indeed, the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong:
Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,
And sold my Reputation for a Song.
LXX.
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore--but was I sober when I swore?
And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My thread-bare Penitence a-pieces tore.
LXXI.
And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour--well,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the Goods they sell.
LXXII.
Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
LXXIII.
Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
-
Edward J. Fitzgerald
First Edition
I.
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.
II.
Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
"Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."
III.
And, as the **** crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door.
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."
IV.
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
V.
Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows.
VI.
And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine
High piping Pelevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of hers to'incarnadine.
VII.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
VIII.
And look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke--and a thousand scatter'd into Clay:
And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.
IX.
But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hatim Tai cry Supper--heed them not.
X.
With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.
XI.
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
XII.
"How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"--think some:
Others--"How blest the Paradise to come!"
Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;
Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!
XIII.
Look to the Rose that blows about us--"Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow:
At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."
XIV.
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two--is gone.
XV.
And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
XVI.
Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.
XVII.
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.
XVIII.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.
XIX.
And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean--
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!
XX.
Ah! my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears-
To-morrow?--Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.
XXI.
Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to Rest.
XXII.
And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend, ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?
XXIII.
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust Descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and--sans End!
XXIV.
Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And those that after a TO-MORROW stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There."
XXV.
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
XXVI.
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
XXVII.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same Door as in I went.
XXVIII.
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
XXIX.
Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
XXX.
What, without asking, hither hurried whence?
And, without asking, whither hurried hence!
Another and another Cup to drown
The Memory of this Impertinence!
XXXI.
Up from Earth's Centre through the seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;
But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.
XXXII.
There was a Door to which I found no Key:
There was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There seemed--and then no more of THEE and ME.
-
<6>Professor Cowell.
With regard to the present Translation. The original Rubaiyat (as,
missing an Arabic Guttural, these Tetrastichs are more musically
called) are independent Stanzas, consisting each of four Lines of
equal, though varied, Prosody; sometimes all rhyming, but oftener (as
here imitated) the third line a blank. Somewhat as in the Greek
Alcaic, where the penultimate line seems to lift and suspend the Wave
that falls over in the last. As usual with such kind of Oriental
Verse, the Rubaiyat follow one another according to Alphabetic
Rhyme--a strange succession of Grave and Gay. Those here selected are
strung into something of an Eclogue, with perhaps a less than equal
proportion of the "Drink and make-merry," which (genuine or not)
recurs over-frequently in the Original. Either way, the Result is sad
enough: saddest perhaps when most ostentatiously merry: more apt to
move Sorrow than Anger toward the old Tentmaker, who, after vainly
endeavoring to unshackle his Steps from Destiny, and to catch some
authentic Glimpse of TO-MORROW, fell back upon TO-DAY (which has
outlasted so many To-morrows!) as the only Ground he had got to stand
upon, however momentarily slipping from under his Feet.
[From the Third Edition.]
While the second Edition of this version of Omar was preparing,
Monsieur Nicolas, French Consul at Resht, published a very careful and
very good Edition of the Text, from a lithograph copy at Teheran,
comprising 464 Rubaiyat, with translation and notes of his own.
Mons. Nicolas, whose Edition has reminded me of several things, and
instructed me in others, does not consider Omar to be the material
Epicurean that I have literally taken him for, but a Mystic, shadowing
the Deity under the figure of Wine, Wine-bearer, &c., as Hafiz is
supposed to do; in short, a Sufi Poet like Hafiz and the rest.
I cannot see reason to alter my opinion, formed as it was more than a
dozen years ago when Omar was first shown me by one to whom I am
indebted for all I know of Oriental, and very much of other,
literature. He admired Omar's Genius so much, that he would gladly
have adopted any such Interpretation of his meaning as Mons. Nicolas'
if he could.<7> That he could not, appears by his Paper in the
Calcutta Review already so largely quoted; in which he argues from the
Poems themselves, as well as from what records remain of the Poet's
Life.
<7> Perhaps would have edited the Poems himself some years ago. He
may now as little approve of my Version on one side, as of Mons.
Nicolas' Theory on the other.
And if more were needed to disprove Mons. Nicolas' Theory, there is
the Biographical Notice which he himself has drawn up in direct
contradiction to the Interpretation of the Poems given in his Notes.
(See pp. 13-14 of his Preface.) Indeed I hardly knew poor Omar was so
far gone till his Apologist informed me. For here we see that,
whatever were the Wine that Hafiz drank and sang, the veritable Juice
of the Grape it was which Omar used, not only when carousing with his
friends, but (says Mons. Nicolas) in order to excite himself to that
pitch of Devotion which others reached by cries and "hurlemens." And
yet, whenever Wine, Wine-bearer, &c., occur in the Text--which is
often enough--Mons. Nicolas carefully annotates "Dieu," "La Divinite,"
&c.: so carefully indeed that one is tempted to think that he was
indoctrinated by the Sufi with whom he read the Poems. (Note to Rub.
ii. p. 8.) A Persian would naturally wish to vindicate a
distinguished Countryman; and a Sufi to enroll him in his own sect,
which already comprises all the chief Poets of Persia.
What historical Authority has Mons. Nicolas to show that Omar gave
himself up "avec passion a l'etude de la philosophie des Soufis"?
(Preface, p. xiii.) The Doctrines of Pantheism, Materialism,
Necessity, &c., were not peculiar to the Sufi; nor to Lucretius before
them; nor to Epicurus before him; probably the very original
Irreligion of Thinking men from the first; and very likely to be the
spontaneous growth of a Philosopher living in an Age of social and
political barbarism, under shadow of one of the Two and Seventy
Religions supposed to divide the world. Von Hammer (according to
Sprenger's Oriental Catalogue) speaks of Omar as "a Free-thinker, and
a great opponent of Sufism;" perhaps because, while holding much of
their Doctrine, he would not pretend to any inconsistent severity of
morals. Sir W. Ouseley has written a note to something of the same
effect on the fly-leaf of the Bodleian MS. And in two Rubaiyat of
Mons. Nicolas' own Edition Suf and Sufi are both disparagingly named.
No doubt many of these Quatrains seem unaccountable unless mystically
interpreted; but many more as unaccountable unless literally. Were
the Wine spiritual, for instance, how wash the Body with it when dead?
Why make cups of the dead clay to be filled with--"La Divinite," by
some succeeding Mystic? Mons. Nicolas himself is puzzled by some
"bizarres" and "trop Orientales" allusions and images--"d'une
sensualite quelquefois revoltante" indeed--which "les convenances" do
not permit him to translate; but still which the reader cannot but
refer to "La Divinite."<8> No doubt also many of the Quatrains in the
Teheran, as in the Calcutta, Copies, are spurious; such Rubaiyat being
the common form of Epigram in Persia. But this, at best, tells as
much one way as another; nay, the Sufi, who may be considered the
Scholar and Man of Letters in Persia, would be far more likely than
the careless Epicure to interpolate what favours his own view of the
Poet. I observed that very few of the more mystical Quatrains are in
the Bodleian MS., which must be one of the oldest, as dated at Shiraz,
A.H. 865, A.D. 1460. And this, I think, especially distinguishes Omar
(I cannot help calling him by his--no, not Christian--familiar name)
from all other Persian Poets: That, whereas with them the Poet is lost
in his Song, the Man in Allegory and Abstraction; we seem to have the
Man--the Bon-homme--Omar himself, with all his Humours and Passions,
as frankly before us as if we were really at Table with him, after the
Wine had gone round.
<8> A note to Quatrain 234 admits that, however clear the mystical
meaning of such Images must be to Europeans, they are not quoted
without "rougissant" even by laymen in Persia--"Quant aux termes de
tendresse qui commencent ce quatrain, comme tant d'autres dans ce
recueil, nos lecteurs, habitues maintenant a 1'etrangete des
expressions si souvent employees par Kheyam pour rendre ses pensees
sur l'amour divin, et a la singularite des images trop orientales,
d'une sensualite quelquefois revoltante, n'auront pas de peine a se
persuader qu'il s'agit de la Divinite, bien que cette conviction
soit vivement discutee par les moullahs musulmans, et meme par
beaucoup de laiques, qui rougissent veritablement d'une pareille
licence de leur compatriote a 1'egard des choses spirituelles."
I must say that I, for one, never wholly believed in the Mysticism of
Hafiz. It does not appear there was any danger in holding and singing
Sufi Pantheism, so long as the Poet made his Salaam to Mohammed at the
beginning and end of his Song. Under such conditions Jelaluddin,
Jami, Attar, and others sang; using Wine and Beauty indeed as Images
to illustrate, not as a Mask to hide, the Divinity they were
celebrating. Perhaps some Allegory less liable to mistake or abuse
had been better among so inflammable a People: much more so when, as
some think with Hafiz and Omar, the abstract is not only likened to,
but identified with, the sensual Image; hazardous, if not to the
Devotee himself, yet to his weaker Brethren; and worse for the Profane
in proportion as the Devotion of the Initiated grew warmer. And all
for what? To be tantalized with Images of sensual enjoyment which
must be renounced if one would approximate a God, who according to the
Doctrine, is Sensual Matter as well as Spirit, and into whose Universe
one expects unconsciously to merge after Death, without hope of any
posthumous Beatitude in another world to compensate for all one's self-
denial in this. Lucretius' blind Divinity certainly merited, and
probably got, as much self-sacrifice as this of the Sufi; and the
burden of Omar's Song--if not "Let us eat"--is assuredly--"Let us
drink, for To-morrow we die!" And if Hafiz meant quite otherwise by a
similar language, he surely miscalculated when he devoted his Life and
Genius to so equivocal a Psalmody as, from his Day to this, has been
said and sung by any rather than spiritual Worshippers.
However, as there is some traditional presumption, and certainly the
opinion of some learned men, in favour of Omar's being a Sufi--and
even something of a Saint--those who please may so interpret his Wine
and Cup-bearer. On the other hand, as there is far more historical
certainty of his being a Philosopher, of scientific Insight and
Ability far beyond that of the Age and Country he lived in; of such
moderate worldly Ambition as becomes a Philosopher, and such moderate
wants as rarely satisfy a Debauchee; other readers may be content to
believe with me that, while the Wine Omar celebrates is simply the
Juice of the Grape, he bragg'd more than he drank of it, in very
defiance perhaps of that Spiritual Wine which left its Votaries sunk
in Hypocrisy or Disgust.
-
<2>Though all these, like our Smiths, Archers, Millers, Fletchers,
etc., may simply retain the Surname of an hereditary calling.
"We have only one more anecdote to give of his Life, and that relates
to the close; it is told in the anonymous preface which is sometimes
prefixed to his poems; it has been printed in the Persian in the
Appendix to Hyde's Veterum Persarum Religio, p. 499; and D'Herbelot
alludes to it in his Bibliotheque, under Khiam.<3>--
"'It is written in the chronicles of the ancients that this King of
the Wise, Omar Khayyam, died at Naishapur in the year of the Hegira,
517 (A.D. 1123); in science he was unrivaled,--the very paragon of his
age. Khwajah Nizami of Samarcand, who was one of his pupils, relates
the following story: "I often used to hold conversations with my
teacher, Omar Khayyam, in a garden; and one day he said to me,
'My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses
over it.' I wondered at the words he spake, but I knew that his were
no idle words.<4> Years after, when I chanced to revisit Naishapur, I
went to his final resting-place, and lo! it was just outside a garden,
and trees laden with fruit stretched their boughs over the garden
wall, and dropped their flowers upon his tomb, so that the stone was
hidden under them."'"
<3>"Philosophe Musulman qui a vecu en Odeur de Saintete dans sa
Religion, vers la Fin du premier et le Commencement du second
Siecle," no part of which, except the "Philosophe," can apply to our
Khayyam.
<4>The Rashness of the Words, according to D'Herbelot, consisted in
being so opposed to those in the Koran: "No Man knows where he shall
die."--This story of Omar reminds me of another so naturally--and
when one remembers how wide of his humble mark the noble sailor
aimed--so pathetically told by Captain Cook--not by Doctor
Hawkworth--in his Second Voyage (i. 374). When leaving Ulietea,
"Oreo's last request was for me to return. When he saw he could not
obtain that promise, he asked the name of my Marai (burying-place).
As strange a question as this was, I hesitated not a moment to tell
him 'Stepney'; the parish in which I live when in London. I was
made to repeat it several times over till they could pronounce it;
and then 'Stepney Marai no Toote' was echoed through an hundred
mouths at once. I afterwards found the same question had been put
to Mr. Forster by a man on shore; but he gave a different, and
indeed more proper answer, by saying, 'No man who used the sea could
say where he should be buried.'"
Thus far--without fear of Trespass--from the Calcutta Review. The
writer of it, on reading in India this story of Omar's Grave, was
reminded, he says, of Cicero's Account of finding Archimedes' Tomb at
Syracuse, buried in grass and weeds. I think Thorwaldsen desired to
have roses grow over him; a wish religiously fulfilled for him to the
present day, I believe. However, to return to Omar.
Though the Sultan "shower'd Favors upon him," Omar's Epicurean
Audacity of Thought and Speech caused him to be regarded askance in
his own Time and Country. He is said to have been especially hated
and dreaded by the Sufis, whose Practise he ridiculed, and whose Faith
amounts to little more than his own, when stript of the Mysticism and
formal recognition of Islamism under which Omar would not hide. Their
Poets, including Hafiz, who are (with the exception of Firdausi) the
most considerable in Persia, borrowed largely, indeed, of Omar's
material, but turning it to a mystical Use more convenient to
Themselves and the People they addressed; a People quite as quick of
Doubt as of Belief; as keen of Bodily sense as of Intellectual; and
delighting in a cloudy composition of both, in which they could float
luxuriously between Heaven and Earth, and this World and the Next, on
the wings of a poetical expression, that might serve indifferently for
either. Omar was too honest of Heart as well of Head for this.
Having failed (however mistakenly) of finding any Providence but
Destiny, and any World but This, he set about making the most of it;
preferring rather to soothe the Soul through the Senses into
Acquiescence with Things as he saw them, than to perplex it with vain
disquietude after what they might be. It has been seen, however, that
his Worldly Ambition was not exorbitant; and he very likely takes a
humorous or perverse pleasure in exalting the gratification of Sense
above that of the Intellect, in which he must have taken great
delight, although it failed to answer the Questions in which he, in
common with all men, was most vitally interested.
For whatever Reason, however, Omar as before said, has never been
popular in his own Country, and therefore has been but scantily
transmitted abroad. The MSS. of his Poems, mutilated beyond the
average Casualties of Oriental Transcription, are so rare in the East
as scarce to have reacht Westward at all, in spite of all the
acquisitions of Arms and Science. There is no copy at the India
House, none at the Bibliotheque Nationale of Paris. We know but of
one in England: No. 140 of the Ouseley MSS. at the Bodleian, written
at Shiraz, A.D. 1460. This contains but 158 Rubaiyat. One in the
Asiatic Society's Library at Calcutta (of which we have a Copy),
contains (and yet incomplete) 516, though swelled to that by all kinds
of Repetition and Corruption. So Von Hammer speaks of his Copy as
containing about 200, while Dr. Sprenger catalogues the Lucknow MS. at
double that number.<5> The Scribes, too, of the Oxford and Calcutta
MSS. seem to do their Work under a sort of Protest; each beginning
with a Tetrastich (whether genuine or not), taken out of its
alphabetical order; the Oxford with one of Apology; the Calcutta with
one of Expostulation, supposed (says a Notice prefixed to the MS.)
to have arisen from a Dream, in which Omar's mother asked about his
future fate. It may be rendered thus:--
"O Thou who burn'st in Heart for those who burn
In Hell, whose fires thyself shall feed in turn,
How long be crying, 'Mercy on them, God!'
Why, who art Thou to teach, and He to learn?"
The Bodleian Quatrain pleads Pantheism by way of Justification.
"If I myself upon a looser Creed
Have loosely strung the Jewel of Good deed,
Let this one thing for my Atonement plead:
That One for Two I never did misread."
<5>"Since this paper was written" (adds the Reviewer in a note), "we
have met with a Copy of a very rare Edition, printed at Calcutta in
1836. This contains 438 Tetrastichs, with an Appendix containing 54
others not found in some MSS."
The Reviewer,<6> to whom I owe the Particulars of Omar's Life,
concludes his Review by comparing him with Lucretius, both as to
natural Temper and Genius, and as acted upon by the Circumstances in
which he lived. Both indeed were men of subtle, strong, and
cultivated Intellect, fine Imagination, and Hearts passionate for
Truth and Justice; who justly revolted from their Country's false
Religion, and false, or foolish, Devotion to it; but who fell short of
replacing what they subverted by such better Hope as others, with no
better Revelation to guide them, had yet made a Law to themselves.
Lucretius indeed, with such material as Epicurus furnished, satisfied
himself with the theory of a vast machine fortuitously constructed,
and acting by a Law that implied no Legislator; and so composing
himself into a Stoical rather than Epicurean severity of Attitude, sat
down to contemplate the mechanical drama of the Universe which he was
part Actor in; himself and all about him (as in his own sublime
description of the Roman Theater) discolored with the lurid reflex of
the Curtain suspended between the Spectator and the Sun. Omar, more
desperate, or more careless of any so complicated System as resulted
in nothing but hopeless Necessity, flung his own Genius and Learning
with a bitter or humorous jest into the general Ruin which their
insufficient glimpses only served to reveal; and, pretending sensual
pleasure, as the serious purpose of Life, only diverted himself with
speculative problems of Deity, Destiny, Matter and Spirit, Good and
Evil, and other such questions, easier to start than to run down, and
the pursuit of which becomes a very weary sport at last!
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<1>Some of Omar's Rubaiyat warn us of the danger of Greatness, the
instability of Fortune, and while advocating Charity to all Men,
recommending us to be too intimate with none. Attar makes Nizam-ul-
Mulk use the very words of his friend Omar [Rub. xxviii.], "When
Nizam-ul-Mulk was in the Agony (of Death) he said, 'Oh God! I am
passing away in the hand of the wind.'"
"Omar Khayyam also came to the Vizier to claim his share; but not to
ask for title or office. 'The greatest boon you can confer on me,' he
said, 'is to let me live in a corner under the shadow of your fortune,
to spread wide the advantages of Science, and pray for your long life
and prosperity.' The Vizier tells us, that when he found Omar was
really sincere in his refusal, he pressed him no further, but granted
him a yearly pension of 1200 mithkals of gold from the treasury of
Naishapur.
"At Naishapur thus lived and died Omar Khayyam, 'busied,' adds the
Vizier, 'in winning knowledge of every kind, and especially in
Astronomy, wherein he attained to a very high pre-eminence. Under the
Sultanate of Malik Shah, he came to Merv, and obtained great praise
for his proficiency in science, and the Sultan showered favors upon
him.'
"When the Malik Shah determined to reform the calendar, Omar was one
of the eight learned men employed to do it; the result was the Jalali
era (so called from Jalal-ud-din, one of the king's names)--'a
computation of time,' says Gibbon, 'which surpasses the Julian, and
approaches the accuracy of the Gregorian style.' He is also the
author of some astronomical tables, entitled 'Ziji-Malikshahi,' and
the French have lately republished and translated an Arabic Treatise
of his on Algebra.
"His Takhallus or poetical name (Khayyam) signifies a Tent-maker, and
he is said to have at one time exercised that trade, perhaps before
Nizam-ul-Mulk's generosity raised him to independence. Many Persian
poets similarly derive their names from their occupations; thus we
have Attar, 'a druggist,' Assar, 'an oil presser,' etc.<2> Omar
himself alludes to his name in the following whimsical lines:--
"'Khayyam, who stitched the tents of science,
Has fallen in grief's furnace and been suddenly burned;
The shears of Fate have cut the tent ropes of his life,
And the broker of Hope has sold him for nothing!'
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http://emotional-literacy-education.com/classic-books-online-a/rubai10.htm
This the complex work of Omar Khaymam that is translated by Edward Fitzgerald.
It is fascinating and sublime poetry. It is quite long so I will post it in several posts:
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam
by Edward Fitzgerald
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Rendered into English Verse by Edward Fitzgerald
Contents:
Introduction.
First Edition.
Fifth Edition.
Notes.
Introduction
Omar Khayyam,
The Astronomer-Poet of Persia.
Omar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in Khorassan in the latter half of
our Eleventh, and died within the First Quarter of our Twelfth
Century. The Slender Story of his Life is curiously twined about that
of two other very considerable Figures in their Time and Country: one
of whom tells the Story of all Three. This was Nizam ul Mulk, Vizier
to Alp Arslan the Son, and Malik Shah the Grandson, of Toghrul Beg the
Tartar, who had wrested Persia from the feeble Successor of Mahmud the
Great, and founded that Seljukian Dynasty which finally roused Europe
into the Crusades. This Nizam ul Mulk, in his Wasiyat--or
Testament--which he wrote and left as a Memorial for future
Statesmen--relates the following, as quoted in the Calcutta Review,
No. 59, from Mirkhond's History of the Assassins.
"'One of the greatest of the wise men of Khorassan was the Imam
Mowaffak of Naishapur, a man highly honored and reverenced,--may God
rejoice his soul; his illustrious years exceeded eighty-five, and it
was the universal belief that every boy who read the Koran or studied
the traditions in his presence, would assuredly attain to honor and
happiness. For this cause did my father send me from Tus to Naishapur
with Abd-us-samad, the doctor of law, that I might employ myself in
study and learning under the guidance of that illustrious teacher.
Towards me he ever turned an eye of favor and kindness, and as his
pupil I felt for him extreme affection and devotion, so that I passed
four years in his service. When I first came there, I found two other
pupils of mine own age newly arrived, Hakim Omar Khayyam, and the ill-
fated Ben Sabbah. Both were endowed with sharpness of wit and the
highest natural powers; and we three formed a close friendship
together. When the Imam rose from his lectures, they used to join me,
and we repeated to each other the lessons we had heard. Now Omar was
a native of Naishapur, while Hasan Ben Sabbah's father was one Ali, a
man of austere life and practise, but heretical in his creed and
doctrine. One day Hasan said to me and to Khayyam, "It is a universal
belief that the pupils of the Imam Mowaffak will attain to fortune.
Now, even if we all do not attain thereto, without doubt one of us
will; what then shall be our mutual pledge and bond?" We answered,
"Be it what you please." "Well," he said, "let us make a vow, that to
whomsoever this fortune falls, he shall share it equally with the
rest, and reserve no pre-eminence for himself." "Be it so," we both
replied, and on those terms we mutually pledged our words. Years
rolled on, and I went from Khorassan to Transoxiana, and wandered to
Ghazni and Cabul; and when I returned, I was invested with office, and
rose to be administrator of affairs during the Sultanate of Sultan Alp
Arslan.'
"He goes on to state, that years passed by, and both his old school-
friends found him out, and came and claimed a share in his good
fortune, according to the school-day vow. The Vizier was generous and
kept his word. Hasan demanded a place in the government, which the
Sultan granted at the Vizier's request; but discontented with a
gradual rise, he plunged into the maze of intrigue of an oriental
court, and, failing in a base attempt to supplant his benefactor, he
was disgraced and fell. After many mishaps and wanderings, Hasan
became the head of the Persian sect of the Ismailians,--a party of
fanatics who had long murmured in obscurity, but rose to an evil
eminence under the guidance of his strong and evil will. In A.D.
1090, he seized the castle of Alamut, in the province of Rudbar, which
lies in the mountainous tract south of the Caspian Sea; and it was
from this mountain home he obtained that evil celebrity among the
Crusaders as the OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS, and spread terror through
the Mohammedan world; and it is yet disputed where the word Assassin,
which they have left in the language of modern Europe as their dark
memorial, is derived from the hashish, or opiate of hemp-leaves (the
Indian bhang), with which they maddened themselves to the sullen pitch
of oriental desperation, or from the name of the founder of the
dynasty, whom we have seen in his quiet collegiate days, at Naishapur.
One of the countless victims of the Assassin's dagger was Nizam ul
Mulk himself, the old school-boy friend.<1>
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I agree with lady TT.
there is no question that Anne Cline is amazing talented. Camelot is very lucky to have her here with us.
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Thank you! ♡ I'm so glad you enjoyed this poem! :D
I enjoyed all of them and I'm not really a poem person. Most of them are too unrealistic t, but yours are based more on realistic scenarios that a person can relate to. They have great imagery. You are very talented.
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Thank you! ♡ I'm so glad you enjoyed this poem! :D
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Your poems are lovely. I see pictures as I read. Good stuff.
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The Good Knight
Steely Knight on trusted steed,
A handsome sight beheld indeed.
Rides with head held high post-battle
Beholden, adversaries rattle.
Exhuding strength and will to live-
Slow to anger, quick to forgive.
A good and just one - well respected.
Loves his own, keeps them protected.
All pause to look as he rides by,
Each damsel hopes to catch his eye.
No nymph aware his hearts been taken
A Love that would not be forsaken.
He glances down not, travels on.
She's on his mind, he's waited long.
And when soon they're reunited-
Kisses sweet and both excited.
They'll stow away for days on end.
Two disparate hearts - now will mend.
That's beautiful Anne, and so true.
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wow. a fascinating poem.
you are really a very creative mind Anne. well done.
and welcome again to Camelot.
thanks for being a valued member of a very special Camelot family.
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The Good Knight
Steely Knight on trusted steed,
A handsome sight beheld indeed.
Rides with head held high post-battle
Beholden, adversaries rattle.
Exhuding strength and will to live-
Slow to anger, quick to forgive.
A good and just one - well respected.
Loves his own, keeps them protected.
All pause to look as he rides by,
Each damsel hopes to catch his eye.
No nymph aware his hearts been taken
A Love that would not be forsaken.
He glances down not, travels on.
She's on his mind, he's waited long.
And when soon they're reunited-
Kisses sweet and both excited.
They'll stow away for days on end.
Two disparate hearts - now will mend.
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Music notes,
Make rhythms round,
Melodic tunes,
The souls true sound.
Takes spirits off,
On memories track-
Breifly, as if -
To heaven & back.
But the songs that move one,
May not - another.
But we are not,
Unlike each other.
For each persons vibration,
It varies a bit-
And seeks a sound,
To resonate with.
But there's no doubt,
A magic's there-
When songs of Love,
Do dance on air.
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(https://www.camelotfantasies.com/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi1322.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fu572%2Fspartacus120%2Fspartan%2520images%2Fthis%2520is%2520sparta%2Fsparatus-1%2Fcool6%2Fcool7%2Fdam-1_zps6b241c2a.jpg&hash=7592905934a5bc8840c2254b05d5e211b53f7744) (http://s1322.photobucket.com/user/spartacus120/media/spartan%20images/this%20is%20sparta/sparatus-1/cool6/cool7/dam-1_zps6b241c2a.jpg.html)
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Awesome poem there Anne.
thanks for sharing. keep them coming.
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Okay in a self-help effort to share my "works" instead of committing them to flame, I present this poem about...time. For David...
Each line that paints the aging face,
Should not be looked at with disgrace.
Because that line formed near my eye,
Is from the smiles of days gone by.
Let it remind me of a time,
When I was yours and you were mine.
A time when we did laugh all day,
And smiled through nights, while we did play.
Never knowing that - so near to come,
Our sweet young love would be undone.
And form deep lines of now - a frown,
Where floods of tears come streaming down.
Eyes once bright now dimmed by sadness,
Form deeper lines as each day passes.
But from the ashes of a broken heart,
Love remembered - can pour out.
For where a breath of life remains,
Capacity for love regains.
The light within returns the sight,
Begins anew to set things right.
And now each line upon my face,
Reminds me of our years embrace.
They give me strength to start again.
With the memories we shared, my dearest friend.
Once in my arms, now spirit free.
Connected forever - my soul to thee.
~Anne Cline
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WELCOME TO THE GENERAL POETRY LOUNGE WELCOME TO THE GENERAL POETRY LOUNGE
(https://www.camelotfantasies.com/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi1322.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fu572%2Fspartacus120%2Fspartan%2520images%2Fthis%2520is%2520sparta%2Fsparatus-1%2Fcool6%2Fcool7%2Fforward-464_zps3787800e.jpg&hash=416c268a2cc5e84bec8b262fe683a7214f5c881b) (http://s1322.photobucket.com/user/spartacus120/media/spartan%20images/this%20is%20sparta/sparatus-1/cool6/cool7/forward-464_zps3787800e.jpg.html)