Related quotes: Imagine, ma petite, Dear sister...

Invitation to the Voyage

Imagine, ma petite,
Dear sister mine, how sweet
Were we to go and take our pleasure
Leisurely, you and I—
To lie, to love, to die
Off in that land made to your measure!
A land whose suns' moist rays,
Through the skies' misty haze,
Hold quite the same dark charms for me
As do your scheming eyes
When they, in their like wise,
Shine through your tears, perfidiously.

There all is order, naught amiss:
Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss.

Treasure galore—ornate,
Time-glossed—would decorate
Our chamber, where the rarest blooms
Would blend their lavish scent,
Heady and opulent,
With wisps of amber-like perfumes;
Where all the Orient's
Splendid, rich ornaments—
Deep mirrors, ceilings fine—would each,
In confidential tone,
Speak to the soul alone
In its own sweet and secret speech.

There all is order, naught amiss:
Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss.

See how the ships, asleep—
They who would ply the deep!—
Line the canals: to satisfy
Your merest whim they come
From far-flung heathendom
And skim the seven seas. —On high,
The sunset's rays enfold
In hyacinth and gold,
Field and canal; and, with the night,
As shadows gently fall,
Behold! Life sleeps, and all
Lies bathed in warmth and evening light.

There all is order, naught amiss:
Comfort and beauty, calm and bliss.

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Related quotes

Invitation for a Voyage (L'Invation au Voyage)

My sisterchild, my dear!
Imagine going there
Gently to live together, just us two,
To love and think not why
To love and live and die
Together in the land that is like you.
The soaking suns that rise
Through those cloud-raveled skies
Will move me with the selfsame mystery
And witchery that lie
Within each traitor eye
That shines out through your tears to look at me.

There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure

A furniture that bears
The polish of the years
Will be the decoration of our chamber,
The very rarest blooms
Commingling their perfumes
With vague and sundry redolence of amber.
Those ceilings richly wrought,
And mirrors deep as thought,
And every wall with Eastern splendors hung
They all would speak apart
To nothing but the heart
In nothing but its tender mother tongue.

There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure

See vessels in the sweep
Of those canals, asleep,
Whose way it is to wander from their berth.
See how, to answer some
Small wish of yours, they come
Our way through all the waters of this earth.
At close of day the sun
Robes hayfields one by one,
Then the canals, and soon the town outright,
In hyacinth and gold;
The world that we behold
Subsides to slumber in a warm low light.

There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure

poem by Charles Baudelaire from Les Fleurs du Mal (1857), translated by A.Z. Foreman
Submitted by anonym
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Invitation to the Voyage (L'Invitation au Voyage)

Think, would it not be
Sweet to live with me
All alone, my child, my love? —
Sleep together, share
All things, in that fair
Country you remind me of?
Charming in the dawn
There, the half-withdrawn
Drenched, mysterious sun appears
In the curdled skies,
Treacherous as your eyes
Shining from behind their tears.

There, restraint and order bless
Luxury and voluptuousness.

We should have a room
Never out of bloom:
Tables polished by the palm
Of the vanished hours
Should reflect rare flowers
In that amber-scented calm;
Ceilings richly wrought,
Mirrors deep as thought,
Walls with eastern splendor hung,
All should speak apart
To the homesick heart
In its own dear native tongue.

There, restraint and order bless
Luxury and voluptuousness.

See, their voyage past,
To their moorings fast,
On the still canals asleep,
These big ships; to bring
You some trifling thing
They have braved the furious deep.
— Now the sun goes down,
Tinting dyke and town,
Field, canal, all things in sight,
Hyacinth and gold;
All that we behold
Slumbers in its ruddy light.

There, restraint and order bless
Luxury and voluptuousness.

poem by Charles Baudelaire from Les Fleurs du Mal (1857), translated by Edna Saint Vincent Millay
Submitted by anonym
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The Goddess of Love

The sun shone
Down on her face
Its warmth
Its rays
Captured beauty in grace

Her eyes were closed
As she smiled up to the sun
Her body stealth
Naked in gold

The beauty she is
Took their breath away
They witnessed a goddess
In the dappling rays

Slowly with grace
She turned with sheer bliss
And smiled her sweet smile
It's made men shiver and quake
In their fantasy bliss

Like an angel she walked
Amongst flowers of love
Enticing and seducing
What men call lust?

She looks over her shoulder
At the drooling of man
And shimmers in dreams
That drives men insane

The Goddess of love
Is just but a dream
But is this just a taste
Of what men really see

poem by Kaila George
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A Dream Within A Dream

Have you ever had a dream within a dream that you dreamt about?
I dreamt in my dream that I was laying in the arms of my love
While lying in her arms my head rest gently against her bosoms
I was in a state a calm, bliss, and contentment felt never before

I fell asleep in such comfort made me drift gently away
I cried, in the dream I was dreaming, for such love I have never had since
I woke, in my dream, to be asked what was wrong
Said I, I am fine and drifted away once more asleep

The tears I cried, in the dream I was dreaming, could fill Victory Lake
Once again I awoke to the comforting eyes of the one I loved the most
I felt so alive and prayed that I could remain in her arms eternally
Realizing that I was still asleep I wish my dream would never end

I loved her so much that my words could never spark
I felt at ease laying in my goddess arms
The comfort that rocked my soul so gently I cried
I cried tears of joy for the life I had with her

I cried knowing that I would wake from my dream
I cried for the things I miss the most and the way I acted
I cried knowing that this was nothing more than a dream
I cried for I was once so foolish and now I know it

I cried for the comfort I had once now lost to time
I cried for the warmth I once had now gone bye
I cried for I realized how good I had it now squandered
I cried know such comfort cost so much

I woke from all dreams lying on the floor
I woke knowing that a love I had was so true so long ago
Laying there thinking that I have some wonderful memories
I know I will love again but a love like that comes only once in a lifetime

Sometimes you never realize a great thing when you have it
The insensitivity that comes from a place of too much comfort
Neglecting the things that means the most
Forgetting to maintain, cherish, and nurture love’s fire

A kindle fire that still burns learns and earns trust
Forget now that life is a dream for all is never as it seems
Never forget to be a lover or someone else will
The same thing it took to get her will be the same thing to keep her

I wish I could dream of her every night for the rest of my life
The bond that binds us reminds us of what we use to be
The links remain and never can be broken by time
My dream was a wonderful dream but not as you are

poem by Wilfred Mellers
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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11. Calm is the morn without a sound

Calm is the morn without a sound,
Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
And only thro' the faded leaf
The chestnut pattering to the ground:
Calm and deep peace on this high wold,
And on these dews that drench the furze.
And all the silvery gossamers
That twinkle into green and gold:
Calm and still light on yon great plain
That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,
And crowded farms and lessening towers,
To mingle with the bounding main:

Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
These leaves that redden to the fall;
And in my heart, if calm at all,
If any calm, a calm despair:

Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,
And waves that sway themselves in rest,
And dead calm in that noble breast
Which heaves but with the heaving deep.

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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For JOY

NOW THAT you have grown older
do not shy away from the possibility that happiness can still be
within the hold of your hands
that your lips can still be red and all alive
for the next kiss
no matter how late love
can be,

do not look back
you might fall to the past that
keeps on pulling you
to the arms of
grief

It was not at all your fault that the flower
of love wilted
too early

He was the sun that came at the wrong time
and did not notice
how sweet can you be
at sunset

Now, another moon has noticed
the beauty of your
petals
the sweetest scent that only comes
when the night is
deep and
so silent

Walk under its light
feel the warmth of its rays
close your eyes and feel
once again
how love can be stronger and sweeter
after the first pain

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She

She, whose eyes were weary brown
shimmers, sparkles in the dark
she whose glamor shine over place
yonder the valleys, hills and dale

she who believeth beauty lies
upon the sprawling universe
she hath that hope that never dies
could broke thine spell and chanted curse

upon heights desired she, to walk
Road less chosen she merely took
naught under the perished land
neither the uncountable sound

she whose enter brought me tears
of joy yet to lose was total fear
to take the wheel, I let her steer
of nor inferior just to clear

the dancing lotus smiles at me
the peeking sun does for she
the ambiance is when daffodils
consume all of my frighted chills

now, she in light do fade
in bliss in paradise laid
under the prosperous shade
of sweet air and blossom's glade...

poem by Ellirie Aviles
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Beautiful One

Oh beautiful one, adorned with spell
To ravage my world as might a sweet angel.
Oh beautiful thing, so much at ease:
Allure of caressing breeze in touch gentle.

Oh beautiful creature, sail me do,
As floating on seas of halcyon blue tincture.
You beautiful being, gracing charm
And features that render feel of deep texture.

Your beautiful poise in glide supreme,
Gives such like a vista honed as from heaven.
That beautiful art of face ornate,
Not ever to understate or be riven.

Your beautiful flame of pulchritude
Doth dizzy me high, so I conclude always
You beautiful girl forever be
My shining Janette; my guide; my stairway.

beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Cry like a Bees...

buzzzz…buzzzz…
a soft pity voice
hear near the sleeping
Daffodils, that waits no break in the
nectar of the heart the
Bees call, Oh! come
serenity of the night as my tears
fall, lead me to the dazzling
Butterfly to fly up in the
wondering sky, comfort my hour and
keep me astray in the
paradise I stay

wet scatter off as teardrop
kept each leaf, and the whole ground
wait forging a deep wish to calm the
crying flee of a Dear friend

privy intend to hold the sweet tears,
and nothing lift,
for the option becomes the
final judgment of tears,
even pain comes
with awesome wealth of distress, surely
the day ended with gain
of lost memory to lend me
a little home to cry

nay! remember my past, for the Bees
likes to sing in
a silent of hovering fast and the
flower blooms blend
every teardropp fall in the ground,
it recall

hear little heart, as the Bees cried
in the flying play, the
flower is just waiting to comfort
the graceful pain …..

poem by Antonio Liao
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Earth’s Moments Of Gloom

“The heart knoweth its own bitterness”

The heart hath its moments of hopeless gloom,
As rayless as is the dark night of the tomb;
When the past has no spell, the future no ray,
To chase the sad cloud from the spirit away;
When earth, though in all her rich beauty arrayed,
Hath a gloom o’er her flowers—o’er her skies a dark shade,
And we turn from all pleasure with loathing away,
Too downcast, too spirit sick, even to pray!

Oh! where may the heart seek, in moments like this,
A whisper of hope, or a faint gleam of bliss?
When friendship seems naught but a cold, cheerless flame,
And love a still falser and emptier name;
When honors and wealth are a wearisome chain,
Each link interwoven with grief and with pain,
And each solace or joy that the spirit might crave
Is barren of comfort and dark as the grave.

Lift—lift up thy sinking heart, pilgrim of life!
A sure spell there is for thy spirit’s sad strife;
’Tis not to be found in the well-springs of earth,—
Oh! no, ’tis of higher and holier birth.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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His Litany, To The Holy Spirit

In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the artless doctor sees
No one hope, but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When his potion and his pill,
Has, or none, or little skill,
Meet for nothing but to kill,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath pray'd,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decay'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knows, I'm tost about
Either with despair, or doubt;
Yet, before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd;
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

poem by Robert Herrick
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His Litany to the Holy Spirit

In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

Whe the artless doctor sees
No one hope but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When his potion and his pill,
Has or none or little skill,
Meet for nothing, but to kill,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,
'Cause my speech is now decayed,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When (God knows) I'm toss'd about,
Either with despair or doubt,
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the Tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the Judgment is revealed,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

poem by Robert Herrick
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Oh, How I Love Late Summer Eve

Oh, how I love late summer eve
When rays of light rush pouring from the gore golden West
And the balmy night wind comes tranquil into rest
The silver cloud in the moon sheen has been long on its way to leave

All mal thoughts and fears take a sweet pause and calm retrieve
No more little gnawing cares, but find with easy quest
The night music, the fragrant bush, the silhouette of flowers with Nature's beauty dressed
And there comes delight my innocent craving a miracle soul to deceive

That is the time when my heart is warm in ecstatic lore
Musing about the beauty of the haze under summer night
Oh, adventurous creatures of the night rise to take your dinted shields
And I see the beauty of the glory the wild summer night yields

poem by Isaac Ziv
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Easter

Lent gathers up her cloak of sombre shading
In her reluctant hands.
Her beauty heightens, fairest in its fading,
As pensively she stands
Awaiting Easter's benediction falling,
Like silver stars at night,
Before she can obey the summons calling
Her to her upward flight,
Awaiting Easter's wings that she must borrow
Ere she can hope to fly--
Those glorious wings that we shall see to-morrow
Against the far, blue sky.
Has not the purple of her vesture's lining
Brought calm and rest to all?
Has her dark robe had naught of golden shining
Been naught but pleasure's pall?
Who knows? Perhaps when to the world returning
In youth's light joyousness,
We'll wear some rarer jewels we found burning
In Lent's black-bordered dress.
So hand in hand with fitful March she lingers
To beg the crowning grace
Of lifting with her pure and holy fingers
The veil from April's face.
Sweet, rosy April--laughing, sighing, waiting
Until the gateway swings,
And she and Lent can kiss between the grating
Of Easter's tissue wings.
Too brief the bliss--the parting comes with sorrow.
Good-bye dear Lent, good-bye!
We'll watch your fading wings outlined to-morrow
Against the far blue sky.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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The Beauty

Beauty is the bliss
Contained in Five letters
Timeless Infinite;
In feasting the eyes
Harmonious and melodious
To the ears
And in the sweet heart
Which lies behind these Joys;

In the nature
The greenery, the rivers and mountains
The flora and fauna
The full moon

Lies beauty In the union of the hearts

And in the intoxication it creates;
and in their separation
pain and hurt Is present beauty
When we get what we desired
And Also retaining that which we got

Lies beauty In prettiness,

in loving hearts In youthfulness,
in charm In naivety of girls
and their aesthetic sensuality
Are all beauty to beauty

Also the heart which is melt in
and burnt
In deep sorrow and insult
And in their experience
And in their liking;

Lies the trait of beauty

poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
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Beauty In Summer

What beauty is reborn
On such a summer's morning.
As broken hearts still torn
Take hope within the dawning.
That healing song
My soul does kiss
From Blackbird's serenade of bliss.
Hung in the gallery
Of memory
- This art.
Daubed with colours
The sky set free.
To start
A raindance of serenity.
To enhance
With scent of bloom
Such summer beauty.
From winter's gloom.
That tinkling piano of silver stream,
I lie with you
-And trees
To dream.
To quaff that fruit of summer wine,
And share your lips
Two twins so fine!
- And sweet.
One heartbeat,
Then sunset bleeds.
We walk through
Surf caressing beach
Where gold has shone
And pleasure leads.
As stars now reach
To touch your eyes,
I just dissolve
At beauty's prize.
Remember that
We are so blessed
Even before the day has dressed.
And the moon
Lays all below to rest.
Such beauty beats in the wings
Of the butterfly
Summer beauty brings.

poem by Kevin East
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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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