Related quotes: 'Your ringlets, your ringlets, That...

The Ringlet

'Your ringlets, your ringlets,
That look so golden-gay,
If you will give me one, but one,
To kiss it night and day,
The never chilling touch of Time
Will turn it silver-gray;
And then shall I know it is all true gold
To flame and sparkle and stream as of old.
Till all the comets in heaven are cold,
And all her stars decay.'
'Then take it, love, and put it by;
This cannot change, nor yet can I.'

'My ringlet, my ringlet,
That art so golden-gay,
Now never chilling touch of Time
Can turn thee silver-gray;
And a lad may wink, and a girl may hint,
And a fool may say his say;
For my doubts and fears were all amiss,
And I swear henceforth by this and this,
That a doubt will only come for a kiss,
And a fear to be kiss'd away.'
'Then kiss it, love, and put it by:
If this can change, why so can I.'

O Ringlet, O Ringlet,
I kiss'd you night and day,
And Ringlet, O Ringlet,
You still are golden-gay,
But Ringlet, O Ringlet,
You should be silver-gray:
For what is this which now I'm told,
I that took you for true gold,
She that gave you 's bought and sold,
Sold, sold.

O Ringlet, O Ringlet,
She blush'd a rosy red,
When Ringlet, O Ringlet
She clipt you from her head,
And Ringlet, O Ringlet,
She gave you me, and said,
'Come, kiss it, love and put it by:
If this can change, why so can I.'
O fie, you golden nothing, fie,
You golden lie.

O Ringlet, O Ringlet,
I count you much to blame,
For Ringlet, O Ringlet,
You put me much to shame,
So Ringlet, O Ringlet,
I doom you to the flame.
For what is this which now I learn,
Has given all my faith a turn?
Burn, you glossy heretic, burn,
Burn, burn.

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Related quotes

Loneliness song

I’m lonesome since I tope the hill and lore the moor and valley
Such heavy thought my heart does fill, since parting without my sally
I sick no more the fine or gay but the one to love me
Her golden hair in ringlet flair
Her slender waste will bind me

poem by Mthokozisi Ntokozo Maphumulo
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Echoes

LADY Clara Vere de Vere
Was eight years old, she said:
Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread.

She took her little porringer:
Of me she shall not win renown:
For the baseness of its nature shall have strength to drag her down.

"Sisters and brothers, little Maid?
There stands the Inspector at thy door:
Like a dog, he hunts for boys who know not two and two are four."

"Kind words are more than coronets,"
She said, and wondering looked at me:
"It is the dead unhappy night, and I must hurry home to tea."

poem by Lewis Carroll from Phantasmagoria and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You Looked So Tempting In The Pew

YOU looked so tempting in the pew,
You looked so sly and calm -
My trembling fingers played with yours
As both looked out the Psalm.

Your heart beat hard against my arm,
My foot to yours was set,
Your loosened ringlet burned my cheek
Whenever they two met.

O little, little we hearkened, dear,
And little, little cared,
Although the parson sermonised,
The congregation stared.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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How His Soul Came Ensnared

My soul would one day go and seek
For roses, and in Julia's cheek
A richess of those sweets she found,
As in another Rosamond;
But gathering roses as she was,
Not knowing what would come to pass,
it chanced a ringlet of her hair
Caught my poor soul, as in a snare;
Which ever since has been in thrall;
--Yet freedom she enjoys withal.

poem by Robert Herrick
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What Kind Of Mistress He Would Have

Be the mistress of my choice,
Clean in manners, clear in voice;
Be she witty, more than wise,
Pure enough, though not precise;
Be she showing in her dress,
Like a civil wilderness,
That the curious may detect
Order in a sweet neglect;
Be she rolling in her eye,
Tempting all the passers by;
And each ringlet of her hair,
An enchantment, or a snare,
For to catch the lookers on;
But herself held fast by none.
Let her Lucrece all day be,
Thais in the night, to me.
Be she such, as neither will
Famish me, nor overfill.

poem by Robert Herrick
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To A Lady, Who Presented The Author With The Velvet Band Which Bound Her Tresses

This Band, which bound thy yellow hair,
Is mine, sweet girl! Thy pledge of love;
It claims my warmest, dearest care,
Like relics left of saints above.

Oh! I will wear it next my heart;
'Twill blind my soul in bonds to thee;
From me again 't will ne'er depart,
But mingle in the grave with me.

The dew I gather from thy lip
Is not so dear to me as this;
That I but for a moment sip,
And banquet on a transient bliss:

This will recall each youthful scene,
E'en when our lives are on the wane;
The leaves of Love will still be green
When Memory bids them bud again.

Oh! little lock of golden hue,
In gently waving ringlet curl'd
By the dear head on which you grow,
I would not lose you for a world.

Not though a thousand more adorn
The polish'd brow where once you shone,
Like rays which gild a cloudless morn,
Beneath Columbia's fervid zone.

poem by Byron
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I cannot dance upon my Toes

326

I cannot dance upon my Toes—
No Man instructed me—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge—
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—
Or lay a Prima, mad,

And though I had no Gown of Gauze—
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences—like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so—

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention—easy—Here—
Nor any Placard boast me—
It's full as Opera—

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Totally Random Phrases (that sound kinda naughty but aren't)

An ocean of devotion,
A tizzy of dizzy
A potion of lotion
In a sea of ecstasy

A Chasm of orgasm
A surfeit of stimulation
A quiver of shivers
An ovation of titillation

A night of delight
A clutch of a touch
A wonderful sight
A touch too much

A piece of striptease
An asp full of hiss
A squeeze of knees
An abyss of bliss,

A feeling of reeling
A measure of treasure
A pealing of feeling
A treasure of pleasure

A collection of affection
A crest of a breast
A perfection of direction
A quest of the best

a rain of pain
A ringlet of regrets
A refrain in the brain
A collage of coquettes

A bind in the mind
A clasp of a grasp
A slip of a lip
A growl of a gasp

A pleasing of teasing
An illusion of alarm
A cart load of heart
A strong arm of charm

poem by David Whalen
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Rained September

Wraith she was in roads foremost
ancient dance in modes to totter;
with words floating on sea water,
My calls in dreams invoked, lost.

Kind expression was, in night air,
to undergo in my darknened light,
she came to me, enchanting sight,
it was her aptitude fine 'n' fair.

Aspect of solitude she traced nigh,
a brass confront she cared softly,
to touch my lips with fingers hostly,
to hash her love notes in tide high.

Memory she was or a destined coil,
contemplative strophe, poems' soul,
words that rhymed a face to extol,
a silent bog with wet grassed soil.

And then she left, disruption stray,
wraith she was and fled, a ringlet,
there she became a singing kinglet,
with our poems, sepia tones in clay.

She stayed in, with my ode to float,
amid a start of a rained September,
her silent call of gray to remember,
a reflective board, smiles to denote.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Apology To Delia: For Desiring A Lock Of Her Hair

Delia, the unkindest girl on earth,
When I besought the fair,
That favour of intrinsic worth
A ringlet of her hair,

Refused that instant to comply
With my absurd request,
For reasons she could specify,
Some twenty score at least.

Trust me, my dear, however odd
It may appear to say,
I sought it merely to defraud
Thy spoiler of his prey.

Yes! when its sister locks shall fade,
As quickly fade they must,
When all their beauties are decayed,
Their gloss, their colour, lost—

Ah then! if haply to my share
Some slender pittance fall,
If I but gain one single hair,
Nor age usurp them all;—

When you behold it still as sleek,
As lovely to the view,
As when it left thy snowy neck,
That Eden where it grew,

Then shall my Delia's self declare
That I professed the truth,
And have preserved my little share
In everlasting youth.

poem by William Cowper
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Aphotic day

Aphotic day, apt to confront
your own failures and engage
in battles a loss is an adage,
or a subscription to far beyond.

Odd time to submit a virtue,
where winds underline empty,
your solitude and war hefty,
where dangers declare untrue.

Concealed day, a wind ringlet,
rotates scopes - just to care,
path is kissing this odd pair,
Hades and an accessing bullet.

Sentry guard to one odd link,
could be a next century yon,
prowess insists on lost agon
your far stars on Dome blink;

Then the bullet closer speeds,
to love you in angelic pastures,
on loved meritorious captures,
that crown only manly deeds;

It is the dark trees breathing,
a threading of killed soldiers,
shriveled shot in dark hollers,
Destinies annul your sheathing.

With each year to annunciate,
a quietus smile, coal vastness,
an odd light spread dampness,
is dew drops on your tomb slate.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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O mother, praying God will save
Thy sailor,--while thy head is bow'd,
His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud
Drops in his vast and wandering grave.

Ye know no more than I who wrought
At that last hour to please him well;
Who mused on all I had to tell,
And something written, something thought;

Expecting still his advent home;
And ever met him on his way
With wishes, thinking, "here to-day,"
Or "here to-morrow will he come."

O somewhere, meek, unconscious dove,
That sitteth ranging golden hair;
And glad to find thyself so fair,
Poor child, that waiteth for thy love!

For now her father's chimney glows
In expectation of a guest;
And thinking "this will please him best,"
She takes a riband or a rose;

For he will see them on to-night;
And with the thought her colour burns;
And, having left the glass, she turns
Once more to set a ringlet right;

And, even when she turn'd, the curse
Had fallen, and her future Lord
Was drown'd in passing thro' the ford,
Or kill'd in falling from his horse.

O what to her shall be the end?
And what to me remains of good?
To her, perpetual maidenhood,
And unto me no second friend.

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere

LIKE souls that balance joy and pain,
With tears and smiles from heaven again
The maiden Spring upon the plain
Came in a sun-lit fall of rain.
In crystal vapour everywhere
Blue isles of heaven laugh'd between,
And far, in forest-deeps unseen,
The topmost elm-tree gather'd green
From draughts of balmy air.

Sometimes the linnet piped his song:
Sometimes the throstle whistled strong:
Sometimes the sparhawk, wheel'd along,
Hush'd all the groves from fear of wrong:
By grassy capes with fuller sound
In curves the yellowing river ran,
And drooping chestnut-buds began
To spread into the perfect fan,
Above the teeming ground.

Then, in the boyhood of the year,
Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere
Rode thro' the coverts of the deer,
With blissful treble ringing clear.
She seem'd a part of joyous Spring:
A gown of grass-green silk she wore,
Buckled with golden clasps before;
A light-green tuft of plumes she bore
Closed in a golden ring.

Now on some twisted ivy-net,
Now by some tinkling rivulet,
In mosses mixt with violet
Her cream-white mule his pastern set:
And fleeter now she skimm'd the plains
Than she whose elfin prancer springs
By night to eery warblings,
When all the glimmering moorland rings
With jingling bridle-reins.

As she fled fast thro' sun and shade,
The happy winds upon her play'd,
Blowing the ringlet from the braid:
She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd
The rein with dainty finger-tips,
A man had given all other bliss,
And all his worldly worth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips.

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Prayers

The rocking hands swayed me back,
The centuries full four and ten behind;
Placed me on the cold wet sandy bank,
At the time of dawn, half light, half night.
Behind I saw stretched sandy plains,
In front calm sea with small ridges
Moving when gentle air moved.

Far away I beheld a ship coming
Ashore from the remote distant land,
Anchored instantly after the voyage long.
I beheld then the men four riding on
The steeds, galloping along splashing waters;
Fully armoured,
Equipped with sharp shining swords;
And captured they the descending voyager,
From the shoulders who cast at me,
A resigned patient look.

Ah! I can recall the heavy rough brows,
Long nose, thick lips, complexion black,
Perforated ear with a silvery ringlet,
Long dress and loose sleeves.
Turned then he to the centre,
Bended knees, sat to offer the prayers,
Under the lurking long curved blades.

Then the same rocking hands brought me back,
To sign a bond, to make a new turn,
And rectify direction of the derailed gait,
Eyes I found watering full flowing,
Drenching cheeks and the whiskers all.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Lady Maggie

You must not call me Maggie, you must not call me Dear,
For I'm Lady of the Manor now stately to see;
And if there comes a babe, as there may some happy year,
'Twill be little lord or lady at my knee.

Oh, but what ails you, my sailor cousin Phil,
That you shake and turn white like a cockcrow ghost?
You're as white as I turned once down by the mill,
When one told me you and ship and crew were lost:

Philip my playfellow, when we were boy and girl
(It was the Miller's Nancy told it to me),
Philip with the merry life in lip and curl,
Philip my playfellow drowned in the sea!

I thought I should have fainted, but I did not faint;
I stood stunned at the moment, scarcely sad,
Till I raised my wail of desolate complaint
For you, my cousin, brother, all I had.

They said I looked so pale—some say so fair—
My lord stopped in passing to soothe me back to life:
I know I missed a ringlet from my hair
Next morning; and now I am his wife.

Look at my gown, Philip, and look at my ring,
I'm all crimson and gold from top to toe:
All day long I sit in the sun and sing,
Where in the sun red roses blush and blow.

And I'm the rose of roses says my lord;
And to him I'm more than the sun in the sky,
While I hold him fast with the golden cord
Of a curl, with the eyelash of an eye.

His mother said 'fie,' and his sisters cried 'shame,'
His highborn ladies cried 'shame' from their place:
They said 'fie' when they only heard my name,
But fell silent when they saw my face.

Am I so fair, Philip? Philip, did you think
I was so fair when we played boy and girl,
Where blue forget-me-nots bloomed on the brink
Of our stream which the mill-wheel sent a whirl?

If I was fair then sure I'm fairer now,
Sitting where a score of servants stand,
With a coronet on high days for my brow
And almost a sceptre for my hand.

You're but a sailor, Philip, weatherbeaten brown,
A stranger on land and at home on the sea,
Coasting as best you may from town to town:
Coasting along do you often think of me?

I'm a great lady in a sheltered bower,
With hands grown white through having nought to do:
Yet sometimes I think of you hour after hour
Till I nigh wish myself a child with you.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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College love lost

She came to the class of physics
And sat by a tall white pillar never alone
An angle watching the board of elongated equations with no lyrics
I sat few rows behind her carved with stone
And once, but once she turned lifting her eyes
And suddenly, sweetly, strangely blushed
To find they were met by my own
And suddenly, sweetly strangely my heart beat stronger
My blood throbbed thicker until I heard no longer
The Thermo dynamic transformations laws
I was long gone under a pensive dream, an utterly estranged show

The bell’s ring pealed up the vaulted hall
What untimely abrupt call
I stood up on my feet stunned like a child
Would she remember it the passionate dual of our eyes’ meet
Ah well, very well, I might have been beguiled
By some coquettish deceit
Yet if she were not a cheat
If she were all that she seemed
And her smile had all that I dreamed
Then the world were not so shakily bitter
And her gracious smile would have sunken on me so much sweeter

What vile winds had scudded away the war
Of roses and daisies at her garden door
As she fled fast through sun and shade
The happy pine trees winds upon her played
Blowing the ringlet from the braid
She looked so lovely as she swayed

I stood watching her a man in his pride
Or a puppet on a string
The rein with dainty finger-tips
A man who would give all other bliss
And all his worldly worthy for this
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips

copy rights 2010

poem by Isaac Ziv
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El Poeta Y La Ilusion (The Poet and the Illusion)

Spanish

La princesita hipsipilo, la vibrátil filigrana,
—Princesita ojos turquesas esculpida en porcelana—
Llamó una noche a mi puerta con sus manitas de lis.
Vibró el cristal de su voz como una flauta galana.

—Yo sé que tu vida es gris.
Yo tengo el alma de rosa, frescuras de flor temprana,
Vengo de un bello país
A ser tu musa y tu hermana!—

Un abrazo de alabastro...luego en el clavel sonoro
De su boca, miel suavísima; nube de perfume y oro
La pomposa cabellera me inundó como un diluvio.
O miel, frescuras, perfumes!...Súbito el sueño, la sombra
Que embriaga..Y, cuando despierto, el sol que alumbra en mi alfombra
Un falso rubí muy rojo y un falso rizo muy rubio!

English

The amazonian little princess, a vibratile filagree,
—Turquoise eyes sculpted of porcelain, little princess—
Called one night at my door with her small hands of iris.
And the trilling crystal of her voice was like an elegant flute:

—I know your life is gray.
I have the soul of a rose, the dew of budding flowers,
I come from a beautiful country
To be your sister and muse!—.

An arm of alabaster...then, in the sonorous carnation
Of her mouth, softest honey; in a cloud of gold and perfume
She surrounded me, brash horsewoman, like a deluge.
Oh honey, freshness, perfumer!...The sudden dream, the shadow
Which intoxicates...and when I wake, the sun that falls on my carpet
In a false ruby very red, and a false ringlet very blond.

poem by Delmira Agustini
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When Tommy Came Marching Home

Devine came back the other day.
We'd planned a great home-comin'.
No long trombone we had to play,
No fine, heroic drummin'.
With two sticks and a milk-can Borne
Put up a martial clatter,
While Carter blew a bullock-horn
Says Tom Devine, with healthy scorn;
“Gorstruth! what is the matter?”

We set three colored petticoats
From Baker's chimneys blowin'
('Tis not the bravest flag that floats,
Yet 'twas the finest goin');
We cheered our hero all we knew,
No song of praise neglectin',
To show our pride as he limped through
He merely spat and snorted, “Who
“The deuce are yous expectin'?”

They lured him to my shop somehow,
And sued for news of battle.
Says Tom: “Who rides the mail track now?
Who herdin' Stringer's cattle?”
A dint the Turk put in his head.
He covers with a ringlet.
He'd won a medal, so we read.
“I might 'ave 'ad it pinched,” he said-
“I've sewn it in my singlet!”

Says Cole “But, 'struth, you must 'ave seen
A fearful swag of scrappin'.”
And Tom agrees “Where men are keen
That's pretty sure to 'appen.
One night a little bloke from Hay
Who plugged a Pentridge warder
Got such a doin' that at day,
Amazed, they ticked him for a stray
Distinguished Service Order.

“Then Sydney Bob was rather vexed
With Green—who'd pinched his braces,
That was 'continued in our next'
In half a score of places.
McCubbin threw his grub at Lea
(You know how sticky stew is);
They fought till neither man could see.
You talk of fight—Gorstrike me, we
Saw stacks of it at Suez!”

poem by Edward George Dyson
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Banquet Of Love

I once heard these words in a song;
'You must remember this...a kiss is
just a kiss...a sigh is just a sigh, ' etc.

With you...nothing...nothing, could be
further from the truth.

Your kiss, is a ride among the stars,
a shower of moon beams and a
sailboat ride, in the Garden Of Eden.

Kissing you...is an out of body experience,
a transport to paradise and a creation
of ultimate passion and joy.

Kissing, every part of who you are, is
truly a banquet of love.

Let me feast of your love and of your lips,
for I am in love with you. Let me always
kiss your mouth...eyes...all of you.

Let us ride the feathers of angels, through
starlit nights-holding...kissing, for now...
and evermore.

Your kiss...touch...embrace, has captured
my heart...my very soul.

I send you this kiss...for the lips
I can not do without.

*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss *..........Kiss*
*Kiss*......Kiss*
*Kiss*.. .*Kiss*
*Kiss*.*Kiss*
*Kiss*......*Kiss*
*Kiss*........*Kiss*
*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss*...............*Kiss*

.........* Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.. .......*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kis s*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
..... ....*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*

...........* Kiss*
.....*Kiss*....*Kiss*
..*Kiss*....... .*Kiss*
..*Kiss*........*Kiss*
.....*Kiss*
..........*Kiss*
.*Kiss*.......*Kiss*
.K iss*.......*Kiss*
..*Kiss*.....*Kiss*
..... .....*Kiss

...........*Kiss*
.....*Kiss *....*Kiss*
..*Kiss*........*Kiss*
..*Kiss* ........*Kiss*
.....*Kiss*
...........*Kiss *
.*Kiss*.......*Kiss*
.Kiss*.......*Kiss*
..*Kiss*.....*Kiss*
..........*Kiss

To kiss you...love you...has made my
life worthwhile. Has given meaning, to
each day I live.

A day without your kiss, is as a day
without sunshine. Just the thought
of you, gladdens my heart.

*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss*. .........Kiss*
*Kiss*......Kiss*
*Kiss*...* Kiss*
*Kiss*.*Kiss*
*Kiss*......*Kiss*
* Kiss*........*Kiss*
*Kiss*............*Kiss**Kiss*...............*Kiss*

.........*Ki ss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.... .....*Kiss*
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.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
....... ..*Kiss*
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...........*Ki ss*
.....*Kiss*....*Kiss*
..*Kiss*........* Kiss*
..*Kiss*........*Kiss*
.....*Kiss*
..........*Kiss*
.*Kiss*.......*Kiss*
.Kis s*.......*Kiss*
..*Kiss*.....*Kiss*
....... ...*Kiss

............*Kiss*
.....*Kiss* ....*Kiss*
..*Kiss*........*Kiss*
..*Kiss*. .......*Kiss*
.....*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*.*Kiss*.......*Kiss*
.Kiss*.......*Kiss*
..*Kiss*.....*Kiss*
..........*Kiss

ONE LAST KISS, FOR ALL THAT YOU ARE.
FOR ALL THAT YOU DO.

WHY DO I LOVE YOU?
BECAUSE...YOU ARE YOU.

YOU ARE MY WORLD. MY LOVE.

*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss*.. ........Kiss*
*Kiss*......Kiss*
*Kiss*...*K iss*
*Kiss*.*Kiss*
*Kiss*......*Kiss*
*K iss*........*Kiss*
*Kiss*............*Kiss*
*Kiss*...............*Kiss*

.........*Kis s*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
..... ....*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*
........ .*Kiss*
.........*Kiss*

............*Ki ss*
.....*Kiss*....*Kiss*
..*Kiss*........* Kiss*
..*Kiss*........*Kiss*
.....*Kiss*
...........*Kiss*
.*Kiss*.......*Kiss*
.Ki ss*.......*Kiss*
..*Kiss*.....*Kiss*
...... ....*Kiss

...........*Kiss*
.....*Kiss* ....*Kiss*
..*Kiss*........*Kiss*
..*Kiss*. .......*Kiss*
.....*Kiss*
..........*Kiss*
.*Kiss*.......*Kiss*
.Kiss*.......*Kiss*
..*Kiss*.....*Kiss*
...........*Kiss

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kisses For You...