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To Chloe. I-23 (From The Odes Of Horace)
Ah Chloe, like a fawn you now elude me, Seeking its timid dam on lonely hills, Its dam who not without an idle tremor At breezes in the forest thrills. For if before the breeze the bushes quiver With rustling leaves, or if green lizards start Across the bramble, then it is it trembles, - This little fawn - in knees and heart. But Chloe, I am not a cruel tiger, Nor a Gætulian lion, thee to chase; And now that thou art old enough to marry, Beside thy mother take thy place.
Helen Leah Reed
To Imagination.
When weary with the long day's care,And earthly change from pain to pain,And lost, and ready to despair,Thy kind voice calls me back again:Oh, my true friend! I am not lone,While then canst speak with such a tone!So hopeless is the world without;The world within I doubly prize;Thy world, where guile, and hate, and doubt,And cold suspicion never rise;Where thou, and I, and Liberty,Have undisputed sovereignty.What matters it, that all aroundDanger, and guilt, and darkness lie,If but within our bosom's boundWe hold a bright, untroubled sky,Warm with ten thousand mingled raysOf suns that know no winter days?Reason, indeed, may oft complainFor Nature's sad reality,And tell the suffering heart how vain
Emily Bronte
Love And Desire.
Rightly said, Schlosser! Man loves what he has; what he has not, desireth;None but the wealthy minds love; poor minds desire alone.
Friedrich Schiller
The Complaint of Lisa
There is no woman living who draws breathSo sad as I, though all things sadden her.There is not one upon life's weariest wayWho is weary as I am weary of all but death.Toward whom I look as looks the sunflowerAll day with all his whole soul toward the sun;While in the sun's sight I make moan all day,And all night on my sleepless maiden bed.Weep and call out on death, O Love, and thee,That thou or he would take me to the dead.And know not what thing evil I have doneThat life should lay such heavy hand on me.Alas! Love, what is this thou wouldst with me?What honor shalt thou have to quench my breath,Or what shall my heart broken profit thee?O Love, O great god Love, what have I done,That thou shouldst hunger so after my death?My heart...
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Beppo.
Why art thou sad, my Beppo? But last eve, Here at my feet, thy dear head on my breast, I heard thee say thy heart would no more grieve Or feel the olden ennui and unrest. What troubles thee? Am I not all thine own? - I, so long sought, so sighed for and so dear? And do I not live but for thee alone? "Thou hast seen Lippo, whom I loved last year!" Well, what of that? Last year is naught to me - 'Tis swallowed in the ocean of the past. Art thou not glad 'twas Lippo, and not thee, Whose brief bright day in that great gulf was cast. Thy day is all before thee. Let no cloud, Here in the very morn of our delight, Drift up from distant foreign skies, to shroud ...
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Sonnet CXXXVII.
Più volte già dal bel sembiante umano.LOVE UNMANS HIS RESOLUTION. Oft as her angel face compassion wore,With tears whose eloquence scarce fails to move,With bland and courteous speech, I boldly stroveTo soothe my foe, and in meek guise implore:But soon her eyes inspire vain hopes no more;For all my fortune, all my fate in love,My life, my death, the good, the ills I prove,To her are trusted by one sovereign power.Hence 'tis, whene'er my lips would silence break,Scarce can I hear the accents which I vent,By passion render'd spiritless and weak.Ah! now I find that fondness to excessFetters the tongue, and overpowers intent:Faint is the flame that language can express!NOTT. Oft have I meant my...
Francesco Petrarca
The Elixir.
"Oh brew me a potion strong and good! One golden drop in his wineShall charm his sense and fire his blood, And bend his will to mine."Poor child of passion! ask of me Elixir of death or sleep,Or Lethe's stream; but love is free, And woman must wait and weep.
Emma Lazarus
To Luna.
SISTER of the first-born light,Type of sorrowing gentleness!Quivering mists in silv'ry dressFloat around thy features bright;When thy gentle foot is heard,From the day-closed caverns thenWake the mournful ghosts of men,I, too, wake, and each night-bird.O'er a field of boundless spanLooks thy gaze both far and wide.Raise me upwards to thy side!Grant this to a raving man!And to heights of rapture raised,Let the knight so crafty peepAt his maiden while asleep,Through her lattice-window glazed.Soon the bliss of this sweet view,Pangs by distance caused allays;And I gather all thy rays,And my look I sharpen too.Round her unveil'd limbs I seeBri...
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To The Evening Star.
The woods waved welcome in the breeze, When, many years ago,Lured by the songs of birds and bees, I sought the dell below;And there, in that secluded spot, Where silver streamlets roved,Twined the green ivy round the cot Of her I fondly loved.In dreams still near that porch I stand To listen to her vow!Still feel the pressure of her hand Upon my burning brow!And here, as in the days gone by, With joy I meet her yet,And mark the love-light of her eyes, Fringed with its lash of jet.O fleeting vision of the past! From memory glide away!Ye were too beautiful to last, Too good to longer stay!But why, attesting evening star, This sermon sad recall:"THAN LOVE AND LOSE 'TI...
George Pope Morris
Sonnet XCVIII.
Quel vago impallidir che 'l dolce riso.LEAVE-TAKING. That witching paleness, which with cloud of loveVeil'd her sweet smile, majestically bright,So thrill'd my heart, that from the bosom's nightMidway to meet it on her face it strove.Then learnt I how, 'mid realms of joy above,The blest behold the blest: in such pure lightI scann'd her tender thought, to others' sightViewless!--but my fond glances would not rove.Each angel grace, each lowly courtesy,E'er traced in dame by Love's soft power inspired,Would seem but foils to those which prompt my lay:Upon the ground was cast her gentle eye,And still methought, though silent, she inquired,"What bears my faithful friend so soon, so far away?"WRANGHAM.
Under the Stars.
Under the stars, when the shadows fall, Under the stars of night;What is so fair as the jeweled crownOf the azure skies, when the sun is down, Beautiful stars of light!Under the stars, where the daisies lie Lifeless beneath the snow;Lovely and pure, they have lived a day,Silently passing forever away, Lying so meek and low.Under the stars in the long-ago-- Under the stars to-night;Life is the same, with its great unrestWearily throbbing within each breast, Searching for truth and light.Under the stars as they drift along, Far in the azure seas;Beautiful treasures of light and song,Glad'ning the earth as they glide along, What is so fair as these?Under the stars in the quiet...
Fannie Isabelle Sherrick
To A Youthful Friend.
1.Few years have pass'd since thou and IWere firmest friends, at least in name,And Childhood's gay sincerityPreserved our feelings long the same.2.But now, like me, too well thou know'stWhat trifles oft the heart recall;And those who once have loved the mostToo soon forget they lov'd at all.3.And such the change the heart displays,So frail is early friendship's reign,A month's brief lapse, perhaps a day's,Will view thy mind estrang'd again.4.If so, it never shall be mineTo mourn the loss of such a heart;The fault was Nature's fault, not thine,Which made thee fickle as thou art.5.As rolls the Ocean's changing tide,So human feelings e...
George Gordon Byron
Romance
Romance, who loves to nod and sing,With drowsy head and folded wing,Among the green leaves as they shakeFar down within some shadowy lake,To me a painted paroquetHath been, a most familiar bird,Taught me my alphabet to say,To lisp my very earliest wordWhile in the wild wood I did lie,A child, with a most knowing eye.Of late, eternal Condor yearsSo shake the very Heaven on highWith tumult as they thunder by,I have no time for idle caresThrough gazing on the unquiet sky.And when an hour with calmer wingsIts down upon my spirit flings,That little time with lyre and rhymeTo while away, forbidden things!My heart would feel to be a crimeUnless it trembled with the strings.
Edgar Allan Poe
Anticipation.
How beautiful the earth is still,To thee, how full of happiness?How little fraught with real ill,Or unreal phantoms of distress!How spring can bring thee glory, yet,And summer win thee to forgetDecember's sullen time!Why dost thou hold the treasure fast,Of youth's delight, when youth is past,And thou art near thy prime?When those who were thy own compeers,Equals in fortune and in years,Have seen their morning melt in tears,To clouded, smileless day;Blest, had they died untried and young,Before their hearts went wandering wrong,Poor slaves, subdued by passions strong,A weak and helpless prey!'Because, I hoped while they enjoyed,And by fulfilment, hope destroyed;As children hope, with trustful breast,I wa...
The Catalogue.
"Come, tell me," says Rosa, as kissing and kist, One day she reclined on my breast;"Come, tell me the number, repeat me the list "Of the nymphs you have loved and carest."--Oh Rosa! 'twas only my fancy that roved, My heart at the moment was free;But I'll tell thee, my girl, how many I've loved, And the number shall finish with thee.My tutor was Kitty; in infancy wild She taught me the way to be blest;She taught me to love her, I loved like a child, But Kitty could fancy the rest.This lesson of dear and enrapturing lore I have never forgot, I allow:I have had it by rote very often before, But never by heart until now.Pretty Martha was next, and my soul was all flame, But my head was so f...
Thomas Moore
A Hope Carol.
A night was near, a day was near;Between a day and nightI heard sweet voices calling clear,Calling me:I heard a whirr of wing on wing,But could not see the sight;I long to see my birds that sing, -I long to see.Below the stars, beyond the moon,Between the night and day,I heard a rising falling tuneCalling me:I long to see the pipes and stringsWhereon such minstrels play;I long to see each face that sings, -I long to see.To-day or may be not to-day,To-night or not to-night;All voices that command or pray,Calling me,Shall kindle in my soul such fire,And in my eyes such light,That I shall see that heart's desireI long to see.
Christina Georgina Rossetti
Light Is More Important Than The Lantern
Light is more important than the lantern,The poem more important than the notebook,And the kiss more important than the lips.My letters to youAre greater and more important than both of us.They are the only documentsWhere people will discoverYour beautyAnd my madness.
Nizar Qabbani
Fragments On Nature And Life - Life
A train of gay and clouded daysDappled with joy and grief and praise,Beauty to fire us, saints to save,Escort us to a little grave.No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low,For God hath writ all dooms magnificent,So guilt not traverses his tender will.Around the man who seeks a noble end,Not angels but divinities attend.From high to higher forcesThe scale of power uprears,The heroes on their horses,The gods upon their spheres.This shining moment is an edificeWhich the Omnipotent cannot rebuild.Roomy EternityCasts her schemes rarely,And an aeon allowsFor each quality and partOf the multitudinousAnd many-chambered heart....
Ralph Waldo Emerson