En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Evelyn Hope

I

Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead!
Sit and watch by her side an hour.
That is her book-shelf, this her bed;
She plucked that piece of geranium-flower,
Beginning to die too, in the glass;
Little has yet been changed, I think:
The shutters are shut, no light may pass
Save two long rays thro' the hinge's chink.

II

Sixteen years old, when she died!
Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name;
It was not her time to love; beside,
Her life had many a hope and aim,
Duties enough and little cares,
And now was quiet, now astir,
Till God's hand beckoned unawares,—
And the sweet white brow is all of her.

III

Is it too late then, Evelyn Hope?
What, your soul was pure and true,
The good stars met in your horoscope,
Made you of spirit, fire and dew—
And, just because I was thrice as old
And our paths in the world diverged so wide,
Each was nought to each, must I be told?
We were fellow mortals, nought beside?

IV

No, indeed! for God above
Is great to grant, as mighty to make,
And creates the love to reward the love:
I claim you still, for my own love's sake!
Delayed it may be for more lives yet,
Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few:
Much is to learn, much to forget
Ere the time be come for taking you.

V

But the time will come,—at last it will,
When, Evelyn Hope, what meant (I shall say)
In the lower earth, in the years long still,
That body and soul so pure and gay?
Why your hair was amber, I shall divine,
And your mouth of your own geranium's red—
And what you would do with me, in fine,
In the new life come in the old one's stead.

VI

I have lived (I shall say) so much since then,
Given up myself so many times,
Gained me the gains of various men,
Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes;
Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope,
Either I missed or itself missed me:
And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope!
What is the issue? let us see!

VII

I loved you, Evelyn, all the while.
My heart seemed full as it could hold?
There was place and to spare for the frank young smile,
And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold.
So, hush,—I will give you this leaf to keep:
See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand!
There, that is our secret: go to sleep!
You will wake, and remember, and understand.

poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Evelyn

We walked till the sunlight died
How could I breathe without your love
Like others we all fight
Against the cruel cruel time
A hundred times a year
The wind blows
A hundred times a year
The wind blows through my skin
Through my skin
All the choices and many voices
Keep on telling me
Its you, evelyn
Its you, evelyn
We talked about wrong or right
I couldnt agree I had to shout
Sometimes we all must fight
Against the cruel heart of doubt
A hundred times a year
We find out
A hundred times a year
We find out
By experience
All the choices and many voices
Keep on telling me
Its you, evelyn
Its you, evelyn
You keep the rain from falling
You keep the rain from falling
Down on me
Evelyn
Everything will die for you
Everyone will cry for you
Evelyn, evelyn, evelyn
You keep the rain from falling
Down on me
Evelyn

song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Evelyn

Evelyn-Evelyn
Where were you last night?
Evelyn-Evelyn
Where were you last night?

waited on your front porch till the break of day
but when the dawn broke I could no longer wait for...

must have phoned a million times no answer came
what kind of fool am I to play this game with...

this has gone on before
I can't take it no more
I'll even up the score and
get away from...

if you must have your way you won't have me
I won't be pushed around I must get free from...

song performed by by The Tragically Hip from The Tragically Hip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maybe Now It’s Far Too Late (In Answer To Robert Browning)

Maybe now it’s far too late
to tell you about what you meant to me
and I am closing the garden gate
where your flowers still grow with an own dignity.

You hair at a time was gleaming with gold,
you face glistened with a sweet smile
but that was in distant days and now I am getting old
and I am lingering for a short while

again caught in memory,
but your hand, your presence I cannot keep
and in another world from me you are free
but in reality in the earth’s bosom you do sleep

and we loved each other for a short while
but I have lived on and on since then
have sailed like you dreamt to do on the Nile,
have known both good and evil men

but sometimes in other faces it’s your eyes that I see,
in something that is much more than just a memory.

[Reference: Evelyn Hope by Robert Browning.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Dead To The Living

Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.

IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
With the young year's blood in them smiled,
I passed through the lanes and the wakened fields,
And stood by the grave of the child.
And the pain awoke that is never dead
Though it sometimes sleeps, and again
It set its teeth in this heart of mine,
And fastened its claws in my brain:
For it seemed so hard that the little hands
And the little well-loved head
Should be out of reach of my living lips,
And be side by side with the dead--
Not side by side with us who had loved,
But with these who had never seen
The grace of the smile, the gold of the hair,
And the eyes of my baby-queen.
Yet with trees about where the brown birds build,
And with long green grass above,

She lies in the cold sweet breast of earth
Beyond the reach of our love;
Whatever befalls in the coarse loud world,
We know she will never wake.
When I thought of the sorrow she might have known,
I was almost glad for her sake. . . .
Tears might have tired those kiss-closed eyes,
Grief hardened the mouth I kissed;
I was almost glad that my dear was dead
Because of the pain she had missed.
Oh, if I could but have died a child
With a white child-soul like hers,
As pure as the wind-flowers down in the copse,
Where the soul of the spring's self stirs;
Or if I had only done with it all,
And might lie by her side unmoved!
I envied the very clods of earth
Their place near the child I loved!

And my soul rose up in revolt at life,
As I stood dry-eyed by her grave,
When sudden the grass of the churchyard sod
Rolled back like a green smooth wave;
The brown earth looked like the brown sea rocks,
The tombstones were white like spray,
And white like surf were the curling folds
Of the shrouds where the dead men lay;
For each in his place with his quiet face
I saw the dead lie low,
Who had worked and suffered and found life sad,
So many sad years ago.
Unchanged by time I saw them lie
As when first they were laid to rest,
The tired eyes closed, the sad lips still,
And the work-worn hands on the breast.
There were some who had found the green world so grey,
They had left it before their time,
And some were little ones like my dear,
And some had died in their prime;
And some were old, they had had their fill
Of bitter unfruitful hours,
And knew that none of them, none, had known
A flower of a hope like ours!

Through their shut eyelids the dead looked up,
And without a voice they said:
'We lived without hope, without hope we died,
And hopeless we lie here dead;
And death is better than life that draws
Pain in, as it draws in breath,
If life never dreams of a coming day
When life shall not envy death.
Through the dark of our hours and our times we lived,
Uncheered by a single ray
Of such hope as lightens the lives of you
Who are finding life hard to-day;
With our little lanterns of human love
We lighted our dark warm night--
But you in the chill of the dawn are set
With your face to the eastern light.
Freedom is waiting with hands held out
Till you tear the veil from her face--
And when once men have seen the light of her eyes,
And felt her divine embrace,
The light of the world will be risen indeed,
And will shine in the eyes of men,
And those who come after will find life fair,
And their lives worth living then!
Will you strive to the light in your loud rough world,
That these things may come to pass,
Or lie in the shadow beside the child,
And strive to the sun through the grass?'

'My world while I may,' I cried; 'but you
Whose lives were as dark as your grave?'
'We too are a part of the coming light,'
They called through the smooth green wave.
Their white shrouds gleamed as the flood of green
Rolled over and hid them from me--
Hid all but the little hands and the hair,
And the face that I always see.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Quieta Ne Movete II

IF one should wake one's frozen faith
In sunlight of her radiant eyes,
Bid it forget its dream of death,
In this new dream of Paradise,
Bid it forget the long, slow pain,
The agony when, all in vain,
It fought for life, and how one swore,
Once cold, it should not waken more;

If hope one buried long ago
Should thrill beneath those smiles of hers,
Should in one's sere life stir and grow,
As in brown woods the young spring stirs;
If, breaking icy bonds of grief,
One's soul should start to bud and leaf,
It might forget in that springtide
How last year's leaves fell off and died.

If from warm faith and hope set high
A lovely living child was born,
With lips more pure than starlit sky,
And eyes as clear as summer morn,
Child-love might grow till one forgot
Old love, that was and now is not--
Forgot that far-off time of tears,
And all these desolated years.

And yet of faith, hope, love, one knows
So well what end the years will make,
If one should dig beneath Time's snows
And wake them now for her sweet sake.
New life may mean new joy; but then,
What lives again may die again,
And to that second death there may
Be no new resurrection-day.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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A New Year's Message To Joseph Mazzini

Send the stars light, but send not love to me.
Shelley.

I

Out of the dawning heavens that hear
Young wings and feet of the new year
Move through their twilight, and shed round
Soft showers of sound,
Soothing the season with sweet rain,
If greeting come to make me fain,
What is it I can send again?

2

I know not if the year shall send
Tidings to usward as a friend,
And salutation, and such things
Bear on his wings
As the soul turns and thirsts unto
With hungering eyes and lips that sue
For that sweet food which makes all new.

3

I know not if his light shall be
Darkness, or else light verily:
I know but that it will not part
Heart's faith from heart,
Truth from the trust in truth, nor hope
From sight of days unscaled that ope
Beyond one poor year's horoscope.

4

That faith in love which love's self gives,
O master of my spirit, lives,
Having in presence unremoved
Thine head beloved,
The shadow of thee, the semitone
Of thy voice heard at heart and known,
The light of thee not set nor flown.

5

Seas, lands, and hours, can these divide
Love from love's service, side from side,
Though no sound pass nor breath be heard
Of one good word?
To send back words of trust to thee
Were to send wings to love, when he
With his own strong wings covers me.

6

Who shall teach singing to the spheres,
Or motion to the flight of years?
Let soul with soul keep hand in hand
And understand,
As in one same abiding-place
We keep one watch for one same face
To rise in some short sacred space.

7

And all space midway is but nought
To keep true heart from faithful thought,
As under twilight stars we wait
By Time's shut gate
Till the slow soundless hinges turn,
And through the depth of years that yearn
The face of the Republic burn.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Were There Hope

I was never in a league of noble gentlemen
To whom she'd cast polite and flitting smiles,
Only distant hope and dying dreams for me!
Or perhaps descent into a game of wiles

To give a chance of sipping wine on heady nights
With her angelic presence to declare;
Above, an aura playing out hypnotic hues,
And I in awe of blonde cascades of hair.

But no! my tiring soul is sinking in a mire
To haunt me for an age and evermore, for
How could I expect to hold her silken hand
When I am but a soulless ghost of yore?

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

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Hope, hope?
Hope?
Never

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth

Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong
Thine heart to live, and love, and long;
But thou art wed to grief and wrong:
Live, then, and long, though hope be dead!
Live on, & labour thro’ the years!
Make pictures through the mist of tears,
Of unforgotten happy fears,
That crossed the time ere hope was dead.
Draw near the place where once we stood
Amid delight’s swift-rushing flood,
And we and all the world seemed good
Nor needed hope now cold and dead.
Dream in the dawn I come to thee
Weeping for things that may not be!
Dream that thou layest lips on me!
Wake, wake to clasp hope’s body dead!
Count o’er and o’er, and one by one
The minutes of the happy sun
That while agone on kissed lips shone,
Count on, rest not, for hope is dead.
Weep, though no hair’s breadth thou shalt move
The living Earth, the heaven above
By all the bitterness of love!
Weep and cease not, now hope is dead!
Sighs rest thee not, tears bring no ease,
Life hath no joy, and Death no peace:
The years change not, though they decrease,
For hope is dead, for hope is dead.
Speak, love, I listen: far away
I bless the tremulous lips, that say,
“Mock not the afternoon of day,
Mock not the tide when hope is dead!”
I bless thee, O my love, who say’st:
“Mock not the thistle-cumbered waste;
I hold Love’s hand, and make no haste
Down the long way, now hope is dead.
With other names do we name pain,
The long years wear our hearts in vain.
Mock not our loss grown into gain,
Mock not our lost hope lying dead.
Our eyes gaze for no morning-star,
No glimmer of the dawn afar;
Full silent wayfarers we are
Since ere the noon-tide hope lay dead.
Behold with lack of happiness
The master, Love, our hearts did bless
Lest we should think of him the less:
Love dieth not, though hope is dead!”

poem by William Morris
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And I Hope That He Loves You (a song)

well I hope that he loves you like a blazing fire
and I hope that he lets you have all that you need and more
I really hope that he gives you the key to his heart
and just maybe he'll give you the key to his door
so you can sneak in at one in the morning
and kiss him like you know you've always wanted to
neither of you care about the girl he gave up for you
you're both just so glad that he told her 'adieu'

well I hope that he loves you softer than the bedsheets in your room
and I hope that you tell him stories about your past
I really hope that he holds you and says 'goodnight' so quietly
it makes you realize that the love will last
and when you wake up he'll still be there lying next to you
and he'll give you that enchanting smile
and you'll tell him how glad you are that you met him
and he'll tell you how much he loves your romantic style

well I hope he practices his grin for you
and I hope he's gone with the wind for you
I really hope he's willing to sin for you
because I know he'll let you touch his skin for you
because he's gone with the wind for you

and I hope that he loves you more than life itself
and I hope that you make him feel good about himself
I hope you wonder where I sleep at night
I hope you wonder if I'm alright
I hope you wonder if you made a mistake
I hope you know that you made a heart break...
for the first time, for the first time
well thanks to you it's the last time, it's the last time
I'm never going to love again
because of you, and the things you said back then
cause that was the last time, cause you didn't come through
and I hope that he loves you

poem by Jade Leven
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My Hopes

Theres so many things in this life
That we can not explain
I hope that on the other side
We will meet again

I hope that by this time
We will understand
I hope that our souls
Will be joined in heart and hand

I hope that god tests our love
When we are on this plain
And that he has the wisdom
To join us once again

I hope that we can open up
And give this love a chance
So we can be together
In heart, in soul and hand

poem by Kevin Campbell
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The Jungle Husband

Dearest Evelyn, I often think of you
Out with the guns in the jungle stew
Yesterday I hittapotamus
I put the measurements down for you but they got lost in the fuss
It's not a good thing to drink out here
You know, I've practically given it up dear.
Tomorrow I am going alone a long way
Into the jungle. It is all grey
But green on top
Only sometimes when a tree has fallen
The sun comes down plop, it is quite appalling.
You never want to go in a jungle pool
In the hot sun, it would be the act of a fool
Because it's always full of anacondas, Evelyn, not looking ill-fed
I'll say. So no more now, from your loving husband Wilfred.

poem by Stevie Smith
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Young, Dumb and Beautiful

Young, dumb and beautiful
She is everything I need
Young, dumb and beautiful
She means the world to me

Young, dumb and beautiful
A flower for the world to see
Young, dumb and beautiful
So glad she loves me

I used to stare into her eye's in awe
The passion we shared made my heart fall
I hope she knows she means the world to me
Never thought someone so beautiful would ever love me

So many countless nights I yearned for true love
Prayed for God to send me an angel from above
Now I know that some prayers come true
Because every morning when I wake its next to you

Young, dumb and beautiful
Thank you for being mine
Young, dumb and beautiful
A love to grow with time

As I hold your hand down this bright road.
Gonna tell you something that Ive never told.
Want you to know I love you so.
Let us share our hearts forever more.

Young, dumb and beautiful
Blow a kiss into the breeze
Young, dumb and beautiful
She's brought me to my knee's

poem by Lance Carthen
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the Eternal Question

THE ETERNAL QUESTION

She was just a child, really,
A girl of sixteen,
when Stanford White took her
in a champagne fueled dream.

White was an architect of great renown,
He had designed the Garden at Madison Square.
He had designs on this chorus girl now,
whose raven haired beauty drew many men’s stares.

He had dined her and wined her
They had toasts with Champagne
On a red velvet swing
In his quarters they played.

In a room full of mirrors
A virgin lay down
When she awoke the next morning
No virgin was found.

It was Evelyn Nesbit’s fate
To be seen as a pawn or a prize.
Harry Thaw sought her in marriage
To take her from a man he despised.

Stanford White was wealthy, urbane,
and had his pick of life’s pleasures
Harry K Thaw was a wastrel and strange,
living off of his Father’s massed treasures.
White and Thaw had competed
for Evelyn’s affections.
White won, then soon lost interest.
Poor Evelyn lost his protection.

Thaw was an addict and deviant
He injected himself with cocaine.
He enjoyed whipping girls and sometimes young boys
with his riding whip or his cane.

He’d pursued Evelyn Nesbit for years
She’d denied all of his advances
Then her forced her and whipped her and beat her
It was one of life’s stranger romances.

He soon learned that the girl he had married
was no demure and virginal bride.
He learned that his rival, Stanford White
had, once more, plucked his pride.

Harry Thaw was then possessed
by a paranoid Jealous rage
Stanford White was a dead man
if it could be arranged.

Thaw, that summer, found his chance
At the roof Garden of Madison Square
Stanford White was in attendance
Thaw and Nesbitt were also there.

Thaw wore a long black overcoat
Strange dress for a day in June
The chorus girls were singing out
when three shots disturbed the tune.

Harry Thaw had murdered White:
three shots at point blank range.
The crowd, in shock, did nothing
as the murderer fled the stage.

Harry Thaw was placed on trial.
The Trial of the century
His lawyers built a strong defense
Based on an insanity plea...
In exchange for a promised divorce
And a specified sum of cash
Evelyn Nesbit was persuaded
to testify on Thaw’s behalf.

She told of the red velvet Swing
and about the mirrored room.
The Jury ruled insanity
Harry Thaw would be free soon.

After the Divorce, Thaw cut her off.
No cash was ever paid
She went on to a brief career
in movies and on stage..

Thaw died of a heart attack
In Nineteen Forty Nine.
Evelyn died in a Nursing Home
in Ronald Reagan’s time.

White’s Square Garden was demolished
Now moved to Seventh Avenue
It’s in its fourth incarnation
as the World’s most famous venue.

In the forum of the Garden
A golden Statute is in place.
With the body of a huntress
But with Evelyn Nesbit’s face

poem by John F. McCullagh
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Love's Final Breath

I know it is time.
I must shut the door.
I know you do not.
Love me anymore.

You're seeking yourself.
Which I hope you do find.
And I hope it's worth all.
That you're leaving behind.

I wish I had give you.
All that you craved.
It hurt when you told me.
That we couldn't be saved.

I knew coming clean.
The risk I would take.
To make our love new.
Hoping your love would wake.

But it put it to sleep.
Then it put it to death.
I cry when I think of.
Our love's final breath.

Your love is now faded.
It's faded to black.
Your heart I now realize.
Is not coming back.

My path I now venture.
With you not by my side.
Your heart was once full.
Now it's empty and dried.

I did what I could.
But it did not suffice.
My ultimate failure.
Cost the ultimate price.

My heart is so sad.
I feel my heart crying.
As I watch what I cherish.
Lay in front of me dying.

As much as it hurts.
I now set you free.
To be all that you want,
And all you can be.

So goodbye my sweet love.
We can't be together.
But in my heart and my soul
You'll be with me forever.

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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At A Funeral

I loved her too, this woman who is dead.
Look in my face. I have a right to go
And see the place where you have made her bed
Among the snow.

I loved her too whom you are burying.
I have a right to stand beside her bier,
And to my handful of the dust I fling,
That she may hear.

I loved her; and it was not for the eyes
Which you have shut, nor for her yellow hair,
Nor for the face which in your bosom lies.
Let it lie there!

Nor for the wild--birds' music of her voice,
Which we shall hear in dreams till we too sleep;
Nor for the rest, which made the world rejoice,
The angels weep.

It was not for the payment of sweet love,
Though love is often straitened for a kiss,
Nor for the hope of other joys above,
But only this,

That she had laid her hand upon my heart
Once in the summer time when we were young,
And that her finger--tips had left a smart,
And that my tongue

Had spoken words which might not be unspoken
Lest they should make a by--word of love's truth,
And I had sworn that love should be the token
Of my youth.

And so I gave her all, and long ago
The treasure of my youth was put in pawn;
And she was little richer that I know
When that was gone.

But I have lived a beggar since that day
And hide my face it may be from men's eyes;
For often I have seen them shrink away,
As in surprise

That such a loathsome cripple should be found
To walk abroad in daylight with the rest,
And scarce a rag to cover up the wound
Upon his breast.

Yet no man stopped to ask how this might be,
Or I had scared them, and let loose my tongue,
How I had bought myself this misery
When I was young.

Yet I have loved her. This must be my pay,
The pension I have earned me with these tears;
The right to kneel beside her grave to--day,
Despite these years,

With all her kisses burning on my cheek,
As when I left her and our love was dead,
And our lips trembled though they did not speak,
The night I fled;

The right to bid you stand aside, nor be
A witness of our meeting. Did you love
In joy as I have loved in misery?
You did not prove

Your love was stronger than the strength of death,
Or she had never died upon your hand.
I would have fed her breathing with my breath;
I would have fanned

A living wind of Heaven to her lips;
I would have stolen life from Paradise.
And she is dead, and you have seen eclipse
Within those eyes.

If I could know that you had loved her well;
If I could hold it for a certainty
That you had sold your life as I did sell;
If I could see

The blackness of your soul, and with my tongue
Taste the full bitterness of tears unshed;
If I should find your very heart was wrung
And maimed and dead;

If I should feel your hand's grasp crumble mine,
And hug the pain when I should grasp in turn;
If I could dip my fingers in the brine
Of eyes that burn;

If I could hear your voice call back the dead
With such a mighty cry of agony
That she should turn and listen in the bed
Where she doth lie,

And all the heavens should together roll,
Thinking they heard the angel's trumpet tone,
I could forget it that you bought a soul
Which was my own;

I could forget that she forgot her vows,
That aught was bartered for the wealth of love;
I could untell the story of my woes,
Till God above

Should hold her guiltless and condone the wrong
Done to His justice; I could take your hand
And call you brother, as we went along
To take our stand

Before His judgment--seat with her again
Where we are hurrying,--for we could not keep
Our place unchallenged in the ranks of men
Who do not weep.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Broken Chances

My Love,

I don't know how you're going to get this,
But it is my last word on this Earth.
Just what ever you do sit alone and read this.
I want you to be at the lake where you gave me my first kiss,
I want you to sit by the tree that held us, and read this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were my love, my only one person who always made me smile,
You held my hand through so many things, so many firsts.
You were my light you were my smile
And you told me the three deadly words,
The words that always kill, but first make you smile.

I have sewed my mouth shut, so you will never see me smile.

I would melt at the sound of your voice,
I would just sit and listen just to know you were really there,
I would call when you weren't home, just to hear your voice.
My wish every day was to hear you say 'I love you',
To hear your voice.

I have glued my ears so I don't have to listen to your lies.

I remember the feeling of your hands running through my hair,
You'd weave your fingers through it to comfort me,
Sometimes I would act sad just to feel your fingers in my hair,
I would silently smile and melt in your arms.
I remember your fingers running through my blond hair.

I have cut my hair so I can never remember that feeling.

U can see you standing looking at me with your sparkling eyes,
I always see you,
I can never see past those deep eyes,
I can see you smile at me, see your hands reach for mine.
I can still see your eyes.

I have cut my eyes out so I can never again fall into your deceiving eyes.

You made my heart race with butterflies, with hope.
I gave you my heart to keep, you said you'd never break it,
You gave me the one thing i needed ti keep going; hope.
And I fell for the traps, I gave you EVERYTHING.
I ave you all the hope I held in my heart, my soul.

I have stabbed my heart, just so you can't shatter what's already broken.

You became my life, you became my love, my everything.
No matter what happened I still loved you,
And no matter what I tried to give you everything,
And you made me loose so much that I'm left with nothing,
And with my dying breath I give you what was all I had left, my everything.

I take my life to show you what love really means, that it's not the lie you told.

I may not be able to smile when you hold me,
I may not be able to hear your words even if their truth,
I may not be able to remember you soothing touch, or your warmth,
I mat not be able to see your eyes, or your reaching hands,
I may not be able to press my beating heart against your skin,
I may not be able to give you a second chance, for like my heart it is broken,
But After the pain and lies, I believe in what I felt for you,
And hope maybe someday you'll believe the same, and find beauty from pain

Even with nothing left to give you but my word, I breath my last breath for you.

I lay in silence to let you live, to give to you a broken second chance,

For I will always love you,
Be............

by: Bethany Maxwell =)

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Armand Barbes

Fire out of heaven, a flower of perfect fire,
That where the roots of life are had its root
And where the fruits of time are brought forth fruit;
A faith made flesh, a visible desire,
That heard the yet unbreathing years respire
And speech break forth of centuries that sit mute
Beyond all feebler footprint of pursuit;
That touched the highest of hope, and went up higher;
A heart love-wounded whereto love was law,
A soul reproachless without fear or flaw,
A shining spirit without shadow of shame,
A memory made of all men's love and awe;
Being disembodied, so thou be the same,
What need, O soul, to sign thee with thy name?

All woes of all men sat upon thy soul
And all their wrongs were heavy on thy head;
With all their wounds thy heart was pierced and bled,
And in thy spirit as in a mourning scroll
The world's huge sorrows were inscribed by roll,
All theirs on earth who serve and faint for bread,
All banished men's, all theirs in prison dead,
Thy love had heart and sword-hand for the whole.
"This was my day of glory," didst thou say,
When, by the scaffold thou hadst hope to climb
For thy faith's sake, they brought thee respite; "Nay,
I shall not die then, I have missed my day."
O hero, O our help, O head sublime,
Thy day shall be commensurate with time.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dear Love, Do You Remember?

Dearest one, do you remember,
As we sat side by side,
How you told me that you loved me,
Asked me to be your bride.
And you told me we'd be happy,
Through all the years to come,
If we ever would prove faithful,
As in the days when we were young.
Oh! how well do I remember,
The kind and loving words,
And now as I sat dreaming,
The thoughts my memory stirs.
But the days have passed before me,
And the scenes of long ago,
But I can never forget the
Days that have passed o'er.

Oh! how clearly I remember
The days when we were young,
How we would tell to each other
Of happy times to come,
And as we would sit together,
That dear loved one and I,
Oh, sat dreaming of the future,
And childhood days gone by.

Dearest love, do you remember
The first time that we met --
Our youthful days have gone, love,
I hope you love me yet,
Now we are growing old, love,
Our heads will soon be gray,
May we ever love each other
Till from earth we pass away.

poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She

Bring back that 'hair-down', unguarded mystery
I liked it better when your tightrope walked on me
Board up my window, prepare for a hurricane
You have a way of breaking through my barricade
You give me all-new games to play
You set me soul free
Now every word that she speaks to me is pure gold
She set my soul free
She give me love, give me hope, give me strength to bear my faults for you
Was my intention to take control again?
Somehow you got me on the ropes of my own plan
To turn up the volume and make you dance for me
Release some pressure so that I can turn and see
Spirit manifests as 'She'
You set me soul free (you set my soul free)
Now every word that she speaks to me is pure gold
She set my soul free (she set my soul free)
She give me love, give me hope, give me strength to bear my faults for you
Like a flower
I can see but I can't feel
Oh yeah
And nothing that you do could ever make me run, run away from you
I never knew, I never knew she could
She set my soul free
Now every word that she speaks to me is pure gold
She set my soul free (she set my soul free)
She give me love, give me hope, give me strength to bear my faults for you

song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XLIII: Love and Hope

Bless love and hope. Full many a withered year
Whirled past us, eddying to its chill doomsday;
And clasped together where the blown leaves lay
We long have knelt and wept full many a tear.
Yet lo! one hour at last, the Spring's compeer,
Flutes softly to us from some green byeway:
Those years, those tears are dead, but only they:—
Bless love and hope, true soul; for we are here.
Cling heart to heart; nor of this hour demand
Whether in very truth, when we are dead,
Our hearts shall wake to know Love's golden head
Sole sunshine of the imperishable land;
Or but discern, through night's unfeatured scope,
Scorn-fired at length the illusive eyes of Hope.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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