Song

Why should you swear I am forsworn,
    Since thine I vowed to be?
Lady, it is already morn,
    And 'twas last night I swore to thee
    That fond impossibility.

Have I not loved thee much and long,
    A tedious twelve hours' space?
I must all other beauties wrong,
    And rob thee of a new embrace,
    Could I still dote upon thy face.

Not but all joy in thy brown hair
    By others may be found;
But I must search the black and fair,
    Like skilful mineralists that sound
    For treasure in unploughed-up ground.

Then, if when I have loved my round,
    Thou prov'st the pleasant she;
With spoils of meaner beauties crowned
    I laden will return to thee,
    Even sated with variety.

Richard Lovelace

Richard Lovelace was an English poet in the 17th century, renowned for his Cavalier style poetry. Born into a well-off family, he was educated at Oxford, where he quickly became known for his charm and wit. Lovelace's works, such as "To Althea, from Prison," reflect his Royalist sympathies and romantic ideals. Despite early successes, his later life was marked by poverty and struggles, ultimately dying at a relatively young age.

Richard Lovelace

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Song.

If I swear by that eye, you'll allow,
    Its look is so shifting and new,
That the oath I might take on it now
    The very next glance would undo.

Those babies that nestle so sly
    Such thousands of arrows have got,
That an oath, on the glance of an eye
    Such as yours, may be off in a shot.

Should I swear by the dew on your lip,
    Though each moment the treasure renews,
If my constancy wishes to trip,
    I may kiss off the oath when I choose.

Or a sigh may disperse from that flower;
    Both the dew and the oath that are there;
And I'd make a new vow every hour,
    To lose them so sweetly in air.

But clear up the heaven of your brow,
    Nor fancy my faith is a feather;
On my heart I will pledge you my vow,
   ...

Thomas Moore

The Sonnets CLII - In loving thee thou knowst I am forsworn

In loving thee thou knowst I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing;
In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn,
In vowing new hate after new love bearing:
But why of two oaths breach do I accuse thee,
When I break twenty? I am perjurd most;
For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee,
And all my honest faith in thee is lost:
For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness,
Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy;
And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness,
Or made them swear against the thing they see;
For I have sworn thee fair; more perjurd I,
To swear against the truth so foul a lie.!

William Shakespeare

Young Love I - "Surely at last, O Lady, the sweet moon"

N.B. - This sequence of poems has appeared in former editions under the title of 'Love Platonic.'


I

1
Surely at last, O Lady, the sweet moon
That bringeth in the happy singing weather
Groweth to pearly queendom, and full soon
Shall Love and Song go hand in hand together;
For all the pain that all too long hath waited
In deep dumb darkness shall have speech at last,
And the bright babe Death gave the Love he mated
Shall leap to light and kiss the weeping past.

For all the silver morning is a-glimmer
With gleaming spears of great Apollo's host,
And the night fadeth like a spent out swimmer
Hurled from the headlands of some shining coast.
O, happy soul, thy mouth at last is singing,
Drunken with wine of morning's azure deep,
Si...

Richard Le Gallienne

A Lover's Vows

Scenes of love and days of pleasure,
I must leave them all, lassie.
Scenes of love and hours of leisure,
All are gone for aye, lassie.
No more thy velvet-bordered dress
My fond and longing een shall bless,
Thou lily in the wilderness;
And who shall love thee then, lassie?
Long I've watched thy look so tender,
Often clasped thy waist so slender:
Heaven, in thine own love defend her,
God protect my own lassie.

By all the faith I've shown afore thee,
I'll swear by more than that, lassie:
By heaven and earth I'll still adore thee,
Though we should part for aye, lassie!
By thy infant years so loving,
By thy woman's love so moving,
That white breast thy goodness proving,
I'm thine for aye, through all, lassie!
By the sun that shines for eve...

John Clare

To The Sighing Strephon. [1]

1.

Your pardon, my friend,
If my rhymes did offend,
Your pardon, a thousand times o'er;
From friendship I strove,
Your pangs to remove,
But, I swear, I will do so no more.


2.

Since your beautiful maid,
Your flame has repaid,
No more I your folly regret;
She's now most divine,
And I bow at the shrine,
Of this quickly reformèd coquette.


3.

Yet still, I must own,
I should never have known,
From your verses, what else she deserv'd;
Your pain seem'd so great,
I pitied your fate,
As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd.


4.

Since the balm-breathing kiss
Of this magical Miss,
Can such wonderful transports produce;
Since the "world you forget,
When your lips once...

George Gordon Byron

Odes From Horace. - To Barine. Book The Second, Ode The Eighth.

BARINE, to thy always broken vows
    Were slightest punishment ordain'd;
    Hadst thou less charming been
By one grey hair upon thy polish'd brows;
    If but a single tooth were stain'd,
    A nail discolour'd seen,
Then might I nurse the hope that, faithful grown,
The FUTURE might, at length, the guilty PAST atone.

But ah! no sooner on that perjur'd head,
    With pomp, the votive wreaths are bound,
    In mockery of truth,
Than lovelier grace thy faithless beauties shed;
    Thou com'st, with new-born conquest crown'd,
    The care of all our Youth,
Their public care; - and murmur'd praises rise
Where'er the beams are shot of those resistless eyes.

Thy Mother's buried dust; - the midnight train,
    Of silent stars, - the rolling s...

Anna Seward