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To Mary Who Died In This Opinion.
1.Maiden, quench the glare of sorrowStruggling in thine haggard eye:Firmness dare to borrowFrom the wreck of destiny;For the ray morn's bloom revealingCan never boast so bright an hueAs that which mocks concealing,And sheds its loveliest light on you.2.Yet is the tie departedWhich bound thy lovely soul to bliss?Has it left thee broken-heartedIn a world so cold as this?Yet, though, fainting fair one,Sorrow's self thy cup has given,Dream thou'lt meet thy dear one,Never more to part, in Heaven.3.Existence would I barterFor a dream so dear as thine,And smile to die a martyrOn affection's bloodless shrine.Nor would I change for pleasureThat withered hand and ashy cheek,If my heart ens...
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Presentiment
"My Sister"Cometh a voice from a far-land!Beautiful, sad, and low;Shineth a light from the star-land!Down on the night of my woe;And a white hand, with a garland,Biddeth my spirit to go.Away and afar from the night-land,Where sorrow o'ershadows my way,To the splendors and skies of the light-land,Where reigneth eternity's day;To the cloudless and shadowless bright-land,Whose sun never passeth away.And I knew the voice; not a sweeterOn earth or in Heaven can be;And never did shadow pass fleeterThan it and its strange melody;And I know I must hasten to meet her,"Yea, ~Sister!~ thou callest to me!"And I saw the light; 'twas not seeming,It flashed from the crown that she wore,And the ...
Abram Joseph Ryan
The Lament of Yasmini, the Dancing-Girl
Ah, what hast thou done with that Lover of mine?The Lover who only cared for thee?Mine for a handful of nights, and thineFor the Nights that Are and the Days to Be,The scent of the Champa lost its sweet -So sweet is was in the Times that Were! -Since His alone, of the numerous feetThat climb my steps, have returned not there.Ahi, Yasmini, return not there!Art thou yet athrill at the touch of His hand,Art thou still athirst for His waving hair?Nay, passion thou never couldst understand,Life's heights and depths thou wouldst never dare.The Great Things left thee untouched, unmoved,The Lesser Things had thy constant care.Ah, what hast thou done with the Lover I loved,Who found me wanting, and thee so fair?Ahi, Yasmini, He found her fai...
Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
Benedicite
God's love and peace be with thee, whereSoe'er this soft autumnal airLifts the dark tresses of thy hair.Whether through city casements comesIts kiss to thee, in crowded rooms,Or, out among the woodland blooms,It freshens o'er thy thoughtful face,Imparting, in its glad embrace,Beauty to beauty, grace to grace!Fair Nature's book together read,The old wood-paths that knew our tread,The maple shadows overhead,The hills we climbed, the river seenBy gleams along its deep ravine,All keep thy memory fresh and green.Where'er I look, where'er I stray,Thy thought goes with me on my way,And hence the prayer I breathe to-day;O'er lapse of time and change of scene,The weary waste which lies betweenT...
John Greenleaf Whittier
The Roses
I have roses in my garden, And their fragrance fills the air. How I love to watch them blooming; For they all are very fair. Some have deep red velvet petals, Some again are snowy white; And the little baby pink ones, Surely give you such delight. Pretty birds come to my garden, And sing there the live-long day; Yes the birds and pretty flowers Help and cheer us on our way.
Alan L. Strang
Love.
Love is anterior to life,Posterior to death,Initial of creation, andThe exponent of breath.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
I Would Live In Your Love
I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes;I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soulas it leads.
Sara Teasdale
Rose Of All The World
I am here myself; as though this heave of effortAt starting other life, fulfilled my own:Rose-leaves that whirl in colour round a coreOf seed-specks kindled lately and softly blownBy all the blood of the rose-bush into being -Strange, that the urgent will in me, to setMy mouth on hers in kisses, and so softlyTo bring together two strange sparks, begetAnother life from our lives, so should sendThe innermost fire of my own dim soul out- spinningAnd whirling in blossom of flame and being upon me!That my completion of manhood should be the beginningAnother life from mine! For so it looks.The seed is purpose, blossom accident.The seed is all in all, the blossom lentTo crown the triumph of this new descent.Is that it, woman? D...
David Herbert Richards Lawrence
To The River Charles.
River! that in silence windestThrough the meadows, bright and free,Till at length thy rest thou findestIn the bosom of the sea!Four long years of mingled feeling,Half in rest, and half in strife,I have seen thy waters stealingOnward, like the stream of life.Thou hast taught me, Silent River! Many a lesson, deep and long;Thou hast been a generous giver; I can give thee but a song.Oft in sadness and in illness, I have watched thy current glide,Till the beauty of its stillness Overflowed me, like a tide.And in better hours and brighter, When I saw thy waters gleam,I have felt my heart beat lighter, And leap onward with thy stream.Not for this alone I love thee, Nor be...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Separation. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.)
And so we twain must part! Oh linger yet,Let me still feed my glance upon thine eyes.Forget not, love, the days of our delight,And I our nights of bliss shall ever prize.In dreams thy shadowy image I shall see,Oh even in my dream be kind to me!Though I were dead, I none the less would hearThy step, thy garment rustling on the sand.And if thou waft me greetings from the grave,I shall drink deep the breath of that cold land.Take thou my days, command this life of mine,If it can lengthen out the space of thine.No voice I hear from lips death-pale and chill,Yet deep within my heart it echoes still.My frame remains - my soul to thee yearns forth.A shadow I must tarry still on earth.Back to the body dwelling here in pain,
Emma Lazarus
Libera Me
Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphrodite, befriend!Long have I served thine altars, serve me now at the end,Let me have peace of thee, truce of thee, golden one, send.Heart of my heart have I offered thee, pain of my pain,Yielding my life for the love of thee into thy chain;Lady and goddess be merciful, loose me again.All things I had that were fairest, my dearest and best,Fed the fierce flames on thine altar: ah, surely, my breastShrined thee alone among goddesses, spurning the rest.Blossom of youth thou hast plucked of me, flower of my days;Stinted I nought in thine honouring, walked in thy ways,Song of my soul pouring out to thee, all in thy praise.Fierce was the flame while it lasted, and strong was thy wine,Meet for immortals that die ...
Ernest Christopher Dowson
Catullus De Lesbia[1]
Lesbia for ever on me rails,To talk of me she never fails.Now, hang me, but for all her art,I find that I have gain'd her heart.My proof is this: I plainly see,The case is just the same with me;I curse her every hour sincerely,Yet, hang me but I love her dearly.
Jonathan Swift
Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter II. Sorrow.
Letter II. Sorrow.I. Yes, I was mad. I know it. I was mad. For there is madness in the looks of love; And he who frights a tender, brooding dove Is not more base than I, and not so sad; For I had kill'd the hope that made me glad, And curs'd, in thought, the sunlight from above.II. He was a fool, indeed, who lately tried To touch the moon, far-shining in the trees, He clomb the branches with his hands and knees. And craned his neck to kiss what he espied. But down he fell, unseemly in his prid...
Eric Mackay
A Meditation For His Mistress
You are a tulip seen today,But (Dearest) of so short a stay;That where you grew, scarce man can say.You are a lovely July-flower,Yet one rude wind, or ruffling shower,Will force you hence, (and in an hour.)You are a sparkling Rose i'th'bud,Yet lost, ere that chaste flesh and bloodCan show where you or grew, or stood.You are a full-spread fair-set Vine,And can with Tendrils love entwine,Yet dried, ere you distill your Wine.You are like Balm enclosed (well)In Amber, or some Crystal shell,Yet lost, ere you transfuse your smell.You are a dainty Violet,Yet withered, ere you can be setWithin the Virgin's Coronet.You are the Queen all flowers among,But die you must (fair Maid) ere long,As He,...
Robert Herrick
Sonnet.
Lady, whom my beloved loves so well! When on his clasping arm thy head reclineth,When on thy lips his ardent kisses dwell, And the bright flood of burning light, that shinethIn his dark eyes, is poured into thine; When thou shalt lie enfolded to his heart,In all the trusting helplessness of love; If in such joy sorrow can find a part, Oh, give one sigh unto a doom like mine!Which I would have thee pity, but not prove.One cold, calm, careless, wintry look, that fell Haply by chance on me, is all that heE'er gave my love; round that, my wild thoughts dwell In one eternal pang of memory.
Frances Anne Kemble
Our Minds Are Married, But We Are Too Young
Our minds are married, but we are too youngFor wedlock by the customs of this ageWhen parent homes pen each in separte cageAnd only supper-earning songs are sung.Times past, when medieval woods were green,Babes were betrothed, and that betrothal brief.Remember Romeo in love and griefThose star-crossed lovers, Juliet was fourteen.Times past, the caveman by his new-found fireRested beside his mate in woodsmokes scent.By our own fireside we shall rest contentFifty years hence keep troth with hearts desire.We shall remember, when our hair is white,These clouded days revealed in radiant light.
Eric Blair
Any Wife To Any Husband
IMy love, this is the bitterest, that thouWho art all truth and who dost love me nowAs thine eyes say, as thy voice breaks to sayShouldst love so truly and couldst love me stillA whole long life through, had but love its will,Would death that leads me from thee brook delay!III have but to be by thee, and thy handWould never let mine go, thy heart withstandThe beating of my heart to reach its place.When should I look for thee and feel thee gone?When cry for the old comfort and find none?Never, I know! Thy soul is in thy face.IIIOh, I should fade, tis willed so! might I save,Galdly I would, whatever beauty gaveJoy to thy sense, for that was precious too.It is not to be granted. But the soulWhence t...
Robert Browning
For A Girl In A Book
Kim, composite of all my loves,less real than most, more real than all;of my making, all the good andsome of the bad, yet of yourself;sole, unique, strong, alone,whole, independent, one: yet minein that you cannot be unfaithful.
Ben Jonson