Related quotes: He, in a few minutes...

He, in a few minutes ravished this fair creature, or at least would have ravished her, if she had not, by a timely compliance, prevented him.

Henry Fielding in Jonathan Wild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Ravished

I was ravished by the words
that flowed in familiar tones
as they glided across the page.
I was ravished by my pen
that with symmetrical reasoning
writes between the lines,
whatever that is suppose to mean.
I was ravished and seduced
into world beyond my understanding
as my pen danced with words
in clusters of mediocrity.
I was ravished and ravished again
that looking back became a toil,
something I will never do again.
I was ravished into doing whatever I do best,
whatever that may be. I was ravished into it.

15 November 2011

poem by David Harris
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Explicitness Missed

Is it joy or delight?
Or could this be emotional devastation?
I am ravished.

An experience that has changed my consciousness.
My comfort zone has been demolished.
Am I in shock and astonished by this?

Is it joy or delight?
Or could this be emotional devastation?
I am ravished.

But neither beast nor savage,
Has me impatiently awaiting...
For more explicitness missed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Epitaph on Mrs. Margaret Paston, of Barningham, in Norfolk

So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet,
So ripe a judgment, and so rare a wit,
Require at least an age in one to meet.
In her they met; but long they could not stay,
'Twas gold too fine to fix without allay.
Heaven's image was in her so well exprest,
Her very sight upbraided all the rest;
Too justly ravished from an age like this,
Now she is gone, the world is of a piece.

poem by John Dryden
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God made a little Gentian

442

God made a little Gentian—
It tried—to be a Rose—
And failed—and all the Summer laughed—
But just before the Snows

There rose a Purple Creature—
That ravished all the Hill—
And Summer hid her Forehead—
And Mockery—was still—

The Frosts were her condition—
The Tyrian would not come
Until the North—invoke it—
Creator—Shall I—bloom?

poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Heathrose

ONCE a boy a Rosebud spied,

Heathrose fair and tender,
All array'd in youthful pride,--
Quickly to the spot he hied,

Ravished by her splendour.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

Said the boy, "I'll now pick thee,

Heathrose fair and tender!"
Said the rosebud, "I'll prick thee,
So that thou'lt remember me,

Ne'er will I surrender!"
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

Now the cruel boy must pick

Heathrose fair and tender;
Rosebud did her best to prick,--
Vain 'twas 'gainst her fate to kick--

She must needs surrender.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Dreaming

I've seen you in a vision,
Or maybe it was a dream,
Your hair was silky and glowing,
And oh how your eyes did gleam.

Your smile was so perfect,
Your skin was so soft and fair,
Your kiss was like heaven,
And your touch nothing could compare.

As I laid In your warm embrace,
With the scent of passion in the air,
It was like a scene out of a movie,
Of this great love affair.

As we ravished each others bodies,
Well in to the dark of night,
And still holding on,
Throughout the morning light.

poem by Richard Goolsby
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The Christian

Honor and happiness unite
To make the Christian's name a praise;
How fair the scene, how clear the light,
That fills the remnant of His days!

A kingly character He bears,
No change His priestly office knows;
Unfading is the crown He wears,
His joys can never reach a close.

Adorn'd with glory from on high,
Salvation shines upon His face;
His robe is of the ethereal dye,
His steps are dignity and grace.

Inferior honors He disdains,
Nor stoops to take applause from earth;
The King of kings Himself maintains
The expenses of His heavenly birth.

The noblest creature seen below,
Ordain'd to fill a throne above;
God gives him all He can bestow,
His kingdom of eternal love!

My soul is ravished at the thought!
Methinks from earth I see Him rise!
Angels congratulate His lot,
And shout Him welcome to the skies.

poem by William Cowper
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Olney Hymn 50: The Christian

Honor and happiness unite
To make the Christian's name a praise;
How fair the scene, how clear the light,
That fills the remnant of His days!

A kingly character He bears,
No change His priestly office knows;
Unfading is the crown He wears,
His joys can never reach a close.

Adorn'd with glory from on high,
Salvation shines upon His face;
His robe is of the ethereal dye,
His steps are dignity and grace.

Inferior honors He disdains,
Nor stoops to take applause from earth;
The King of kings Himself maintains
The expenses of His heavenly birth.

The noblest creature seen below,
Ordain'd to fill a throne above;
God gives him all He can bestow,
His kingdom of eternal love!

My soul is ravished at the thought!
Methinks from earth I see Him rise!
Angels congratulate His lot,
And shout Him welcome to the skies.

poem by William Cowper
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Hymn XVIII: Father, Saviour of Mankind

Father, Saviour of mankind,
Who hast on me bestowed
An immortal soul, designed
To be the house of God;
Come, and now reside in me,
Never, never to remove;
Make me just and good, like thee,
And full of power and love.

Bid me in thy image rise,
A saint, a creature new,
True, and merciful, and wise,
And pure, and happy too.
This thy primitive design,
That I should in thee be blest,
Should within the arms divine
For ever, ever rest.

Let thy will on me be done;
Fulfil my heart's desire,
Thee to know and love alone,
And rise in raptures higher;
Thee, descending on a cloud,
When with ravished eyes I see,
Then I shall be filled with God
To all eternity!

poem by John Wesley
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Hymn XVIII: Father, Saviour of Mankind

poem by Charles Wesley
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Hors-d’oeuvre

Long ago and far away
lived a knight not so bold
and he often considered
how he would rescue a damsel in distress.
Not being bold or handsome to
the knight wondered what he should do.

Then came a day
when his lady fair was kidnapped
and the knight was perplexed
at what he should do.
Mounting his steed he galloped
to the castle where she was held.

The walls of the castle
seem to stretch to the sky.
How was he to save her
and rescue her virtue from these wicked men?
He could not scale this fortress
and breech its stone walls,

From within the walls he heard
groans and wails ring out.
The thoughts of them
stealing her virtue
made his voice ring out.
“Open the gates and let me in.”

The gates duly opened
and the knight with sword in hand
quickly rode his steed in.
There was his lady fair
being ravished by several men.
“Leave ye lady fair alone.”

The knight was taken back
as his lady fair’s voice
echoed in his ears.
“Be gone you silly knight,
can’t you see this lady
wants to have some fun.”

6-7 September 2010

poem by David Harris
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To De Witt Miller

Dear Miller: You and I despise
The cad who gathers books to sell 'em,
Be they but sixteen-mos in cloth
Or stately folios garbed in vellum.

But when one fellow has a prize
Another bibliophile is needing,
Why, then, a satisfactory trade
Is quite a laudable proceeding.

There's precedent in Bristol's case
The great collector--preacher-farmer;
And in the case of that divine
Who shrives the soul of P.D. Armour.

When from their sapient, saintly lips
The words of wisdom are not dropping,
They turn to trade--that is to say,
When they're not preaching they are swapping!

So to the flock it doth appear
That this a most conspicuous fact is:
That which these godly pastors do
Must surely be a proper practice.

Now, here's a pretty prize, indeed,
On which De Vinne's art is lavished;
Harkee! the bonny, dainty thing
Is simply waiting to be ravished!

And you have that for which I pine
As you should pine for this fair creature:
Come, now, suppose we make a trade--
You take this gem, and send the Beecher!

Surely, these graceful, tender songs
(In samite garb with lots of gilt on)
Are more to you than those dull tome?
Her pastor gave to Lizzie Tilton!

poem by Eugene Field
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Sonnet: Suffering’s Are God-sent

Despite the fact that people get punished,
They won’t give up their habits bad for long;
They love to see the other much ravished,
And will not give up things that appear wrong.

’Tis hard abandoning one’s vices gained!
Good habits die an early death in life;
Men commit sins until the soul is stained;
So, God brings on an era of great strife!

’Tis vanity that steals the hearts of men,
And pride afills their heads in umptine ways;
While jealousy weakens their little ken;
In wasteful thinking, spent are his good days.

But men won’t take the road that’s right and fair!
So, suff’rings come that they just cannot bear.

9-2-2001

poem by John Celes
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Indian Dancer

EYES ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire
Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer around them in fountains of light;
O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of desire,
And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces bewitch the voluptuous watches of night.

The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter and die in the maze of their gem-tangled hair,
And smiles are entwining like magical serpents the poppies of lips that are opiate-sweet;
Their glittering garments of purple are burning like tremulous dawns in the quivering air,
And exquisite, subtle and slow are the tinkle and tread of their rhythmical, slumber-soft feet.

Now silent, now singing and swaying and swinging, like blossoms that bend to the breezes or showers,
Now wantonly winding, they flash, now they falter, and, lingering, languish in radiant choir;
Their jewel-girt arms and warm, wavering, lily-long fingers enchant through melodious hours,
Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire!

poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Origins

The plaster continues to crumble
It's because of the light!
That blasted light!
I see the floors are sinking in
In the derelict of light.

I am a creature of comfort
Because of the light!
Oh, that blasted light!
Lavish me in the finest of things
Without the curse of the light.

The horror within is now revealed
Why, because of the light.
Oh, that blasted light!
And with the darkness, my beauty is healed.
Because of the light, oh the light.

Do you find I have cause to lie?
Yes, I do.
It's because of the light!
For all that my soul is suffering
And I am a creature of night.

I am a creature of comfort
I am a creature of fright
I'm a creature of sensual pleasure
I'm a creature with just one little bite.

I am a creature of legend
I am a creature of night
I'm a creature that stalks in the shadows
I'm a creature that hides from the light.

I am a creature unwanted
I am a creature with might
I'm a creature seduced by the hunger
I'm a creature of mischief and rife.

I am a creature so sadly
I am a creature, that's right
I'm a creature without soul
As low as it goes
I'm the creature to end your life

poem by Katherine Clark
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