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Amour 2
My fayre, if thou wilt register my loue,More then worlds volumes shall thereof arise;Preserue my teares, and thou thy selfe shall proueA second flood downe rayning from mine eyes.Note but my sighes, and thine eyes shal beholdThe Sun-beames smothered with immortall smoke;And if by thee, my prayers may be enrold,They heauen and earth to pitty shall prouoke.Looke thou into my breast, and thou shall seeChaste holy vowes for my soules sacrifice:That soule (sweet Maide) which so hath honoured thee,Erecting Trophies to thy sacred eyes; Those eyes to my heart shining euer bright, When darknes hath obscur'd each other light.
Michael Drayton
Revulsion.
I see the starting buds, I catch the gleam In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool, The blessed April air blows soft and cool,Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream, And we forget that close around us lie A city's poor, a city's misery.Of every outward vision there is some Internal counterpart. To-day I know The blessedness of living, and the glowOf life's dear spring-tide. I can bid thee come In thought and wander where the fields are fair With bursting life, and I, rejoicing, there.Yet have I passed, Beloved, through the vale Of dark dismay, and felt the dews of death Upon my brow, have measured out my breathCounting my hours of joy, as misers quail At every footfall in the quiet night ...
Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley
The Wife's Will.
Sit still, a word, a breath may break(As light airs stir a sleeping lake)The glassy calm that soothes my woes,The sweet, the deep, the full repose.O leave me not! for ever beThus, more than life itself to me!Yes, close beside thee let me kneel,Give me thy hand, that I may feelThe friend so true, so tried, so dear,My heart's own chosen, indeed is near;And check me not, this hour divineBelongs to me, is fully mine.'Tis thy own hearth thou sitt'st beside,After long absence, wandering wide;'Tis thy own wife reads in thine eyesA promise clear of stormless skies;For faith and true love light the raysWhich shine responsive to her gaze.Ay, well that single tear may fall;Ten thousand might mine eyes recall,Which...
Charlotte Bronte
To -----
Think not of it, sweet one, so;Give it not a tear;Sigh thou mayst, and bid it goAny, any where.Do not look so sad, sweet one,Sad and fadingly;Shed one drop then, it is gone,O 'twas born to die!Still so pale? then, dearest, weep;Weep, I'll count the tears,And each one shall be a blissFor thee in after years.Brighter has it left thine eyesThan a sunny rill;And thy whispering melodiesAre tenderer still.Yet, as all things mourn awhileAt fleeting blisses,E'en let us too! but be our dirgeA dirge of kisses.
John Keats
When Love Was Born
When Love was born I think he layRight warm on Venus' breast,And whiles he smiled and whiles would playAnd whiles would take his rest.But always, folded out of sight,The wings were growing strongThat were to bear him off in flightErelong, erelong.
Sara Teasdale
The Mystery
Your eyes drink of me,Love makes them shine,Your eyes that leanSo close to mine.We have long been lovers,We know the rangeOf each other's moodsAnd how they change;But when we lookAt each other soThen we feelHow little we know;The spirit eludes us,Timid and free,Can I ever know youOr you know me?
Love's Dilemma.
I' mi credetti.I deemed upon that day when first I knew So many peerless beauties blent in one, That, like an eagle gazing on the sun, Mine eyes might fix on the least part of you.That dream hath vanished, and my hope is flown; For he who fain a seraph would pursue Wingless, hath cast words to the winds, and dew On stones, and gauged God's reason with his own.If then my heart cannot endure the blaze Of beauties infinite that blind these eyes, Nor yet can bear to be from you divided,What fate is mine? Who guides or guards my ways, Seeing my soul, so lost and ill-betided, Burns in your presence, in your absence dies?
Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni
The Shepherd's Daughter
How sweet is every lengthening day,And every change of weather,When Summer comes, on skies blue grey,And brings her hosts together,Her flocks of birds, her crowds of flowers,Her sunny-shining water!I dearly love the woodbine bowers,That hide the Shepherd's Daughter--In gown of green or brown or blue,The Shepherd's Daughter, leal and true.How bonny is her lily breast!How sweet her rosy face!She'd give my aching bosom rest,Where love would find its place.While earth is green, and skies are blue,And sunshine gilds the water,While Summer's sweet and Nature true,I'll love the Shepherd's Daughter--Her nut brown hair, her clear bright eye,My daily thought, my only joy.She's such a simple, sweet young thing,Dre...
John Clare
Written On The Blank Leaf Of A Copy Of My Poems, Presented To An Old Sweetheart, Then Married.
Once fondly lov'd and still remember'd dear; Sweet early object of my youthful vows! Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere, Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now allows. And when you read the simple artless rhymes, One friendly sigh for him, he asks no more, Who distant burns in flaming torrid climes, Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic roar.
Robert Burns
Love Is Strength
Love alone is great in might,Makes the heavy burden light,Smooths rough ways to weary feet,Makes the bitter morsel sweet:Love alone is strength!Might that is not born of LoveIs not Might born from above,Has its birthplace down belowWhere they neither reap nor sow:Love alone is strength!Love is stronger than all force,Is its own eternal source;Might is always in decay,Love grows fresher every day:Love alone is strength!Little ones, no ill can chance;Fear ye not, but sing and dance;Though the high-heaved heaven should fallGod is plenty for us all:God is Love and Strength!
George MacDonald
In Memory Of A Happy Day In February
Blessed be Thou for all the joyMy soul has felt to-day!Oh, let its memory stay with me,And never pass away!I was alone, for those I lovedWere far away from me;The sun shone on the withered grass,The wind blew fresh and free.Was it the smile of early springThat made my bosom glow?'Twas sweet; but neither sun nor windCould cheer my spirit so.Was it some feeling of delightAll vague and undefined?No; 'twas a rapture deep and strong,Expanding in the mind.Was it a sanguine view of life,And all its transient bliss,A hope of bright prosperity?Oh, no! it was not this.It was a glimpse of truth divineUnto my spirit given,Illumined by a ray of lightThat shone direct from heaven.<...
Anne Bronte
A Memory
Adown the grass-grown paths we strayed,The evening cowslips opedTheir yellow eyes to look at her,The love-sick lilies mopedWith envy that she rather choseTo take a creamy-petalled roseAnd lean it gainst her ebon hair,All in that garden fair.A languid breeze, with stolen scentOf box-bloom in his grasp,Sighed out his longing in her ear,And with his dying gaspScattered the perfume at her feetTo blend with others not less sweet;He loved her, but she did not care,All in that garden fair.The rose she honoured nodded down,His comrades burst with spite:Poor fool! he knew not he was doomedTo barely last the night;Are hearts to her but as that flower,The plaything of a careless hour,To lacerate and never ...
Barcroft Boake
To - .
1.One word is too often profanedFor me to profane it,One feeling too falsely disdainedFor thee to disdain it;One hope is too like despairFor prudence to smother,And pity from thee more dearThan that from another.2.I can give not what men call love,But wilt thou accept notThe worship the heart lifts aboveAnd the Heavens reject not, -The desire of the moth for the star,Of the night for the morrow,The devotion to something afarFrom the sphere of our sorrow?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Memory
How I loved you in your sleep,With the starlight on your hair!The touch of your lips was sweet, Aziza whom I adore,I lay at your slender feet, And against their soft palms pressed,I fitted my face to rest.As winds blow over the sea From Citron gardens ashore,Came, through your scented hair, The breeze of the night to me.My lips grew arid and dry, My nerves were tense,Though your beauty soothe the eye It maddens the sense.Every curve of that beauty is known to me,Every tint of that delicate roseleaf skin, And these are printed on every atom of me,Burnt in on every fibre until I die. And for this, my sin,I doubt if ever, though dust I be,The dust will lose the desire,The torm...
Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
Reconciliation
Listen, dearest! you must love me more,More than you did before!Hark, what a beating here of wings!Never at rest,Dear, in your breast!Is it your heart with its flutterings,Making a music, love, for us both?Or merely a moth, a velvet-winged moth,Which out of the garden's fragrance swings,Weaving a spell,That holds the rose and the moon in thrall?I love you more than I can tell;And no recallHow long agoOur quarrel and all!You say, you know,A perfect pearl grows out of well,A little friction; tiny grainOf sand or shellSo love grew out of that moment's pain,The heart's disdainSince then I have thought of no one but you,And how your heart would beat on mine,Like light on dew.And I thought how foolish t...
Madison Julius Cawein
Sonnet CXLI.
Fera stella (se 'l cielo ha forza in noi).TO PINE FOR HER IS BETTER THAN TO ENJOY HAPPINESS WITH ANY OTHER. Ill-omen'd was that star's malignant gleamThat ruled my hapless birth; and dim the mornThat darted on my infant eyes the beam;And harsh the wail, that told a man was born;And hard the sterile earth, which first was wornBeneath my infant feet; but harder far,And harsher still, the tyrant maid, whose scorn,In league with savage Love, inflamed the warOf all my passions.--Love himself more tame,With pity soothes my ills; while that cold heart,Insensible to the devouring flameWhich wastes my vitals, triumphs in my smart.One thought is comfort--that her scorn to bear,Excels e'er prosperous love, with other earthly fair.
Francesco Petrarca
O Beauty, Passing Beauty!
O beauty, passing beauty! Sweetest sweet!How can thou let me waste my youth in sighs?I only ask to sit beside thy feet.Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes.Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not foldMy arms about thee--scarcely dare to speak.And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,As with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek.Methinks if I should kiss thee, no controlWithin the thrilling brain could keep afloatThe subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,The bare word "kiss" hath made my inner soulTo tremble like a lute string, ere the noteHath melted in the silence that it broke
Alfred Lord Tennyson
St. Valentine.
The girl's a slender thing and fair, With dimpled cheek and eyes ashine; The youth is tall, with bashful air. Heigho! a fond and foolish pair - The day is yours, St. Valentine. He says: "My heart will constant prove, Since every beat of it is thine; The sweetest joy of life is love." The birds are mating in the grove - The day is yours, St. Valentine. What matter that the wind blows chill Through leafless tree and naked vine, That snowdrifts linger on the hill, When warm love makes the pulses thrill? The day is yours, St. Valentine.
Jean Blewett