Sonnet X. To Mrs. G
AH! why will Mem'ry with officious care
The long lost visions of my days renew?
Why paint the vernal landscape green and fair,
When life's gay dawn was opening to my view?
Ah! wherefore bring those moments of delight,
When with my Anna, on the southern shore,
I thought the future, as the present bright?
Ye dear delusions!--ye return no more!
Alas! how diff'rent does the truth appear,
From the warm picture youth's rash hand portrays!
How fades the scene, as we approach it near,
And pain and sorrow strike--how many ways!
Yet of that tender heart, ah! still retain
A share for me--and I will not complain!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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Related quotes
Share With Me
to verify and rework may 14 2009
0,18
Share with me, my dear, Care with me, my dear,
vision clear to trace future fair, where time and place flow fair
joy’s grace to share space, to replace motives base
sunrise, sunset serene. with garden green serene.
0,45
Sharing, giving, and forgiving, Sharing, choosing not refusing,
joining joy for living, - trusting, not accusing,
living me and you for you and me. living me and you for you and me.
1,03
Joy tender, long we’ll remember, - Joy tender, long we’ll remember, -
past and present, future seen past and present, future seen
1,15
as honeymoon happiness as contentment where pleasure
hand in hand advancing, none measure enhancing
eyes to bright eyes glancing. fun’s treasure, joy dancing.
1,30
This shared gift from me to you, This shared gift from me to you,
from you to me – felicity. from you to me – felicity.
1,45
Love in life rejoices, Love in life revoices,
life in love rejoices, life in love shared choices,
united in serenity. united in serenity.
1,57
This shared gift from me to you, This shared gift from me to you,
from you to me – felicity. from you to me – felicity.
2,04
Heart through heart charts tomorrow Friend in friend finds fulfilment
part in part, nor apart, ends unease, mends resentment,
nor in parts, torn to sorrow. energies frees, - contentment
Each through each is completed links two minds in true fusion
reach goals, teach to outreach lending love not illusion
each through each, undefeated. ending heartache, confusion.
2.42 Cupid’s dart need not borrow Heart in heart signal sent meant
surface art causing smart – silence melts, shared investment
quarrels start, hurtful stones throw. soul to soul in complement.
4.55
Share with me, my dear, vision clear to trace future fair, joy’s grace to share space, sunrise, sunset serene.
5.23
7.15
Heart through heart charts tomorrow
part in part never part,
nor apart, torn to sorrow.
Each through each is completed
reach and teach breach outreach,
each through each, undefeated.
2.42 Cupid’s dart need not borrow
surface art causing smart –
quarrels start, senseless stones throw.
evergreen garden scene to grace
8.51
18 September 2006
Share with Me_20060927_Share with me, my dear ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_1448_robi3_0000 XXX_KLX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Written After Leaving Her At New Burns
How quick the change from joy to woe!
How chequered is our lot below!
Seldom we view the prospect fair,
Dark clouds of sorrow, pain, and care,
(Some pleasing intervals between),
Scowl over more than half the scene.
Last week with Delia, gentle maid,
Far hence in happier fields I strayed,
While on her dear enchanting tongue
Soft sounds of grateful welcome hung,
For absence had withheld it long.
'Welcome, my long-lost love, she said,
E'er since our adverse fates decreed
That we must part, and I must mourn
Till once more blessed by thy return,
Love, on whose influence I relied
For all the transports I enjoyed,
Has played the cruel tyrant's part
And turned tormentor to my heart,
But let me hold thee to my breast,
Dear partner of my joy and rest,
And not a pain, and not a fear,
Or anxious doubt, shall enter there.'
Happy, thought I, the favoured youth,
Blessed with such undissembled truth!--
Five suns successive rose and set,
And saw no monarch in his state,
Wrapped in the blaze of majesty,
So free from every care as I.--
Next day the scene was overcast;
Such day till then I never passed,--
For on that day, relentless fate!
Delia and I must separate.
Yet ere we looked our last farewell,
From her dear lips this comfort fell:--
'Fear not that time, where'er we rove,
Or absence, shall abate my love.'
And can I doubt, my charming maid,
As unsincere what you have said?
Banished from thee to what I hate,
Dull neighbours and insipid chat,
No joy to cheer me, none in view,
But the dear hope of meeting you;
And that through passion's optic seen,
With ages interposed between;--
Blessed with the kind support you give,
'Tis by your promised truth I live;
How deep my woes, how fierce my flame,
You best may tell, who feel the same.
poem by William Cowper
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To James Freeman Clarke
I BRING the simplest pledge of love,
Friend of my earlier days;
Mine is the hand without the glove,
The heart-beat, not the phrase.
How few still breathe this mortal air
We called by school-boy names!
You still, whatever robe you wear,
To me are always James.
That name the kind apostle bore
Who shames the sullen creeds,
Not trusting less, but loving more,
And showing faith by deeds.
What blending thoughts our memories share!
What visions yours and mine
Of May-days in whose morning air
The dews were golden wine,
Of vistas bright with opening day,
Whose all-awakening sun
Showed in life's landscape, far away,
The summits to be won!
The heights are gained. Ah, say not so
For him who smiles at time,
Leaves his tired comrades down below,
And only lives to climb!
His labors,--will they ever cease,--
With hand and tongue and pen?
Shall wearied Nature ask release
At threescore years and ten?
Our strength the clustered seasons tax,--
For him new life they mean;
Like rods around the lictor's axe
They keep him bright and keen.
The wise, the brave, the strong, we know,--
We mark them here or there,
But he,--we roll our eyes, and lo!
We find him everywhere!
With truth's bold cohorts, or alone,
He strides through error's field;
His lance is ever manhood's own,
His breast is woman's shield.
Count not his years while earth has need
Of souls that Heaven inflames
With sacred zeal to save, to lead,--
Long live our dear Saint James!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Lost in everything
Lost in thought
lost in pain
lost in fear
that you can never retain!
Lost in trouble
lost in grief
lost in heartbreak
that you can never relief!
Lost in sorrow
lost in death
lost in misery
That you can never refresh!
Lost in life
lost in words
lost in everything
That you can never return!
Lost in chaos
lost in peace
lost in burdens
that you can never release!
Because these are the things
we think and feel
through the good and the bad
It's a forever done deal!
poem by Katarina Bowman
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Dear Anna (Carlos Olmeda)
Did the roses never open,
Are you left to start again?
And not a single tear should fall into the water,
That you kept them in.
Dear Anna,
I am the only one,
Who will love you until the end,
Oh Anna,
Open your heart again,
And warm me by the fire within.
How are you going to face the autumn,
With the pain you only friend?
Just remember that; Before you know the winter,
You'll know love again
Dear Anna,
I am the only one,
Who will love you until the end,
Oh Anna,
Open your heart again,
And warm me by the fire within.
I stand forewarned,
Love will change,
Even the best of friends,
And nothing wrong with starting over,
Go on and have yourself a cry,
I just wanna be the man with arms around you,
When you dry your eyes
Dear Anna,
Well, I am the only one,
Who will love you until the end,
Oh Anna,
Open your heart again,
And warm me by the fire within.
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Struggles Cease - after William Shakespeare Sonnet XLVII
Struggles cease as heart and eye ally
And each to each good turns does sans delay: -
Now may they twine as heart, with inner eye
Garners reflection fair of peerless traits.
The heart refreshed is eyeing every part,
Open eye's fulfilled, heart's welcome guest,
Moreover neither rush, wait other's start,
As hearts signed, sealed, are mutually impressed.
Mention Present, Past is shadow dim
As Present, passed, fair Future’s bells ring bright,
United are all three: ‘us’, ‘her’, ‘him’s’ hymn,
Draws trinity’s divinity in sight.
Eye may make no mistake, beyond day's shore,
Charmed knight returns to one he’d e’er adore.
12 June 2008
Happy Birthday M C!
After William Shakespeare
Shakespeare Sonnet XLVII
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other:
When that mine eye is famish’d for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:
So, either by thy picture or my love,
Thyself away art present still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them and they with thee;
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Solvitur acris Hiems
Youth, that went, is come again,
Youth, for which we all were fain;
With soft pleasure and sweet pain
In each nerve and every vein,
Circling through the heart and brain,
Whence and wherefore come again?
Eva, tell me!
Dead and buried when we thought him,
Who the magic spell hath taught him?
Who the strong elixir brought him?
Dead and buried as we thought,
Lo! unasked for and unsought
Comes he, shall it be for nought?
Eva, tell me!
Youth that lifeless long had lain,
Youth that long we longed in vain for,
Used to grumble and complain for,
Thought at last to entertain
A decorous cool disdain for,
On a sudden see again
Comes, but will not long remain,
Comes, with whom too in his train,
Comes, and shall it be in vain?
Eva, tell me!
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Wood-Nymph
-After a picture by Burne Jones-
The green leaves, ah, the green leaves cover me:
Would I might lose this unloved human life
And share the happy being of the leaves!
For lo, they live and grow and drink the sun
And sip the nectar of the heavenly showers
And have no sorrow with it; but they grow
Happily, and Pan at even blesses them.
While I, alas me hapless, I am joined
Part to their life, and all in longing to them;
Part to the gods, the bright gods whom I see
Flash through the woods at even or morn, and make
The beautiful familiar trees seem strange;
And part to mortals and their little life.
Green leaves that cover me, to you I mourn,
My sisters, my more happy sisters, ye
Rustle, rustle in the summer air,
With happy cries of birds among your boughs:
Be happy, though I am not happy. Nay,
I am not all unhappy, evermore.
One while a bird sings on the topmost bough
And my heart sings, forgetting life and death
And sorrow: so forgetting I were blest,
And bliss the gods deny me. When they walk
The forest before sundawn--Artemis,
Girt for the chase and followed by her hounds,
Queen Herê or another, ere the dawn,
Or Aphrodite with the rosy dawn--
I may not speak my longings, but they pass,
Pass unregardful to their happy heaven.
They see me not--not me, akin to Gods!
These tears are vain.--When mortals pass at eve,
Treading a delicate path between the trees,
Pale mortal men and women, with their loves--
It pains me that I see them, for I know
I am not as they are, and cannot share
The little love that fills their little life--
Vain, vain; and they too pass and see me not.
Ah me, dear leaves, forsaken of gods and men,
And sad because I cannot live their life,
Will you not love me whom none others love?
Will you not teach me how to live your life,
My sisters, my more happy sisters?--live
In peace and quietness and still content,
And freshen and fade and freshen and have no care
And have no longing, full of peace to live,
Forgetting thus for ever life and death
And Gods and men and sorrow and delight.
poem by Arthur Symons
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The Period In Your Long Sentence
there comes a point in your life
when you simply do not care
you give love and yet you still do not care
if they give you the same love in return
they give you pain and still you do not care
you have no pain to give them you have actually
nothing at that point in your life when
pain and love too become nothing at all
equate that with that point of no return when
you do not look back not even afraid that something
may turn into salt or stone you simply do not care
because there is nothing to really care because
you are nearing the endpoint of your existence and your
mind and heart are focused on that something
that you do not know but hundred percent sure that it
is something that you cannot exchange with what passed
between the grip of your hands between the hold of your
fingers: nothing snaps, something completes itself
you are full and you long for nothing anymore
'it is there! it is there! ' that is the only
proclamation. The past fades. The present shrinks.
The world becomes a period in your long sentence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Laura Days
Dreaming to-day in a forest green
Where the great gums rake the sky,
My thoughts turn back to another scene
And to old days, long gone by;
To a land of youth, and a youth's employ,
And - to filch another's phrase -
To the men who were boys, when I was a boy,
In the long gone Laura days.
To a little town that nestles down
By the hills of Beetaloo,
Where a youth dreamed dreams of fair renown,
And a man's ambition grew,
'Twas here his earliest songs were sung
And he won his earliest praise
From men who were young when he was young
In the long gone Laura days.
Spicer, Stockdale, Ballantyne,
Marrie, Mitchell and Braund;
How many a right good pal of mine
Has gone from that sunlit land.
How many a man, how many a lad,
Whose head now slowly greys,
To a song grew glad as I grew glad
In those long gone Laura days.
Susman, Sibly and Dr Cook,
Blume and Barrington,
Oh! the lives of some are a long-closed book,
But many a tale runs on.
Hollis and Harvey, Chandler, Green
Are gone their various ways,
But I see them all in the olden scene
Of the long gone Laura days.
I see them still, I see the town
Under those scrub-clad hills,
The shops where the quiet street runs down,
Wilson, Rowland, Bills.
Taylor, Weste, Felstead too,
Cole of the kindly ways,
And many other friends I knew
In the long gone Laura days.
And the names of some come slow to mind,
But the faces greet me clear,
And I hold them all as men most kind,
As I hold the old town dear;
And so in memory to the end
That old time picture stays,
For I see each face as a faithful friend
Of the far off Laura days.
To the ladies all I lift a glass,
And toast with a right good will,
Every matron, every lass, who
Shine in memory still,
Fair would I hymn them all in rhyme
With soaring song of praise,
Friends of mine from a golden time
In the long gone Laura days.
When the evening sun slants through the gums,
By my forest-rimmed abode,
Once more the old clear picture comes,
And my mind drifts down the road;
Back to the town by Beetaloo,
Where the Rocky River strays;
Back to the old kind friends I knew
In the dear dead Laura days.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Path Of Time
Whether of present or past
Or future if you please
The time that you portray
Moves only for yourself
Some choose to live in the past
Lost hopes and dreams they share
But time only last
Until they release the burden they bear
Some choose to live in the present
And behold the sights of each day
A balance of decisions for 10 second frames
And everything always seems fair
Some people look towards the future
To see long term effects unfold
However long it takes to get there
They keep persisting towards their goal
I chose to live in the present
Ignore the past and future presence
And live life like I will not see the next day
And still not have to care
But if I provide an example
For past, present, or future
My path is still my own
And moves only for myself
poem by Logan Fulk
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You Are The Dawn
How the dawn brings the light
How the light fill the whole heart
The most sought after dream
From childhood to youthful charm
Keep haunting the chambers dark
Leaving the blind, without a spark.
The bright sunrays pierce all corners
The warm moon light delight all viewers
But the wrecked childhood days
Weaken the living spirit, day after day
The fast approaching phase of youth
Still finds no one to shower some warmth.
In the pre-destined darkness, left to fate
No hand is offered as help, though aghast
Love is the dire need in this crisis hour
Showering faith on us is the only savior
Hold our hand to share feelings for a day
Who’s there except you to show us a way.
Yes, you are the dawn to bring the light
Yes, you are the light to fill the dark hearts.
poem by Dr. Ashok Chakravarthy Tholana
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Elegy on the Death of a Child
Fair was thy blossom, tender flower,
That open'd like the rose in May,
Though nursed beneath the chilly shower
Of fell regret, for love's decay.
How oft thy mother heaved the sigh
O'er wreaths of honour early shorn,
Before thy sweet and guiltless eye
Had open'd on the dawn of morn!
How oft, above thy lowly bed,
When all in silence slumber'd low,
The fond and filial tear was shed,
Thou child of love, of shame, and woe!
Her wrong'd but gentle bosom burn'd
With joy thy opening bloom to see;
The only breast that o'er thee yearn'd;
The only heart that cared for thee.
Oft her young eye, with tear-drops bright,
Pleaded with Heaven for her sweet child,
When faded dreams of past delight
O'er recollection wander'd wild.
Fair was thy blossom, bonnie flower,
Fair as the softest wreaths of spring,
When late I saw thee seek the bower
In peace thy morning hymn to sing.
Thy little foot across the lawn
Scarce from the primrose press'd the dew;
I thought the spirit of the dawn
Before me to the greenwood flew.
E'en then the shaft was on the wing,
Thy spotless soul from earth to sever,
A tear of pity wet the string
That twang'd, and seal'd thy doom for ever.
I saw thee late, the emblem fair
Of beauty, innocence, and truth,
Start tiptoe on the verge of air,
'Twixt childhood and unstable youth;
But now I see thee stretch'd at rest:
To break that rest shall wake no morrow -
Pale as the grave-flower on thy breast!
Poor child of love, of shame, and sorrow!
May thy long sleep be sound and sweet;
Thy visions fraught with bliss to be;
And long the daisy, emblem meet,
Shall shed its earliest tear o'er thee!
poem by James Hogg
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A Meeting
Quite carelessly I turned the newsy sheet;
A song I sang, full many a year ago,
Smiled up at me, as in a busy street
One meets an old-time friend he used to know.
So full it was, that simple little song,
Of all the hope, the transport, and the truth,
Which to the impetuous morn of life belong,
That once again I seemed to grasp my youth.
So full it was of that sweet, fancied pain
We woo and cherish ere we meet with woe,
I felt as one who hears a plaintive strain
His mother sang him in the long ago.
Up from the grave the years that lay between
That song's birthday and my stern present came
Like phantom forms and swept across the scene,
Bearing their broken dreams of love and fame.
Fair hopes and bright ambitions that I knew
In that old time, with their ideal grace,
Shone for a moment, then were lost to view
Behind the dull clouds of the commonplace.
With trembling hands I put the sheet away;
Ah, little song! the sad and bitter truth
Struck like an arrow when we met that day!
My life has missed the promise of its youth.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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You Don't Have To Paint Me A Picture
The kiss was colder than I remember
When we first said hello
I guess the flame's now a little lower
I can feel you letting go
You know the pain drops a little darker
Then when you first put it on
I guess your love's like some old cheap and magic marker
Said forever nice go
But you don't have to paint me a picture
You don't have to say things at all
You don't have to paint me a picture
I can see in the writing on the wall
When we first fell, we fell a long way
Summer nights and winter days
Mountain sunrise, ocean sunset
Hand in hand in the haze
Now it's cold heart summer evenings
And there's clouds on my sunrise
But you don't have to smile and say you're happy
I can see what's in your eyes
You don't have to paint me a picture
You don't have to say things at all
You don't have to paint me a picture
I can see in the writing on the wall
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To F. W. N. A Birthday Offering
Dear Frank, this morn has usher'd in
The manhood of thy days;
A boy no more, thou must begin
To choose thy future ways;
To brace thy arm, and nerve thy heart,
For maintenance of a noble part.
And thou a voucher fair hast given,
Of what thou wilt achieve,
Ere age has dimm'd thy sun-lit heaven,
In weary life's chill eve;
Should Sovereign Wisdom in its grace
Vouchsafe to thee so long a race.
My brother, we are link'd with chain
That time shall ne'er destroy;
Together we have been in pain,
Together now in joy;
For duly I to share may claim
The present brightness of thy name.
My brother, 'tis no recent tie
Which binds our fates in one,
E'en from our tender infancy
The twisted thread was spun;—
Her deed, who stored in her fond mind
Our forms, by sacred love enshrined.
In her affection all had share,
All six, she loved them all;
Yet on her early-chosen Pair
Did her full favour fall; [Note]
And we became her dearest theme,
Her waking thought, her nightly dream.
Ah! brother, shall we e'er forget
Her love, her care, her zeal?
We cannot pay the countless debt,
But we must ever feel;
For through her earnestness were shed
Prayer-purchased blessings on our head.
Though in the end of days she stood,
And pain and weakness came,
Her force of thought was unsubdued,
Her fire of love the same;
And e'en when memory fail'd its part,
We still kept lodgment in her heart.
And when her Maker from the thrall
Of flesh her spirit freed,
No suffering companied the call,
—In mercy 'twas decreed,—
One moment here, the next she trod
The viewless mansion of her God.
Now then at length she is at rest,
And, after many a woe,
Rejoices in that Saviour blest
Who was her hope below;
Kept till the day when He shall own
His saints before His Father's throne.
So it is left for us to prove
Her prayers were not in vain;
And that God's grace-according love
Has come as gentle rain, {15}
Which, falling in the vernal hour,
Tints the young leaf, perfumes the flower.
Dear Frank, we both are summon'd now
As champions of the Lord;—
Enroll'd am I, and shortly thou
Must buckle on thy sword;
A high employ, nor lightly given,
To serve as messengers of heaven!
Deep in my heart that gift I hide;
I change it not away
For patriot-warrior's hour of pride,
Or statesman's tranquil sway;
For poet's fire, or pleader's skill
To pierce the soul and tame the will.
O! may we follow undismay'd
Where'er our God shall call!
And may His Spirit's present aid
Uphold us lest we fall!
Till in the end of days we stand,
As victors in a deathless land.
poem by John Henry Newman
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The Confidant
Anna was always full of thought
As if she'd many sorrows known,
Yet mostly her full heart was fraught
With troubles that were not her own;
For the whole school to Anna used to tell
Whatever small misfortunes unto them befell.
And being so by all beloved,
That all into her bosom poured
Their dearest secrets, she was moved
To pity all-her heart a hoard,
Or storehouse, by this means became for all
The sorrows can to girls of tender age befall.
Though individually not much
Distress throughout the school prevailed,
Yet as she shared it all, 'twas such
A weight of woe that her assailed,
She lost her colour, loathed her food, and grew
So dull, that all their confidence from her withdrew.
Releasëd from her daily care,
No longer listening to complaint,
She seems to breathe a different air,
And health once more her cheek does paint.
Still Anna loves her friends, but will not hear
Again their list of grievances which cost so dear.
poem by Charles Lamb
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You Only Paint The Picture Once
(Teddy Gentry/Randy Owen/Ronnie Rogers/Greg Fowler)
Look at those evening shadows
Casting a peaceful light
The sun is disappearing
It's a beautiful sight
Moments caught forever
By the master's touch
A lasting reminder
To us
You only paint the picture once
(And) you only get one chance
Take the time to do your best
While the brush is in your hand
Make sure it's just right
Before the colors dry
You can't change it once it's done
You only paint the picture once
Love is the canvas
That's where it all starts
A lifetime together
Becomes a work of art
Just look what's been created
Between your heart and mine
Oh I believe that we're one of a kind
You only paint the picture once
(And) you only get one chance
Take the time to do your best
While the brush is in your hand
Make sure it's just right
Before the colors dry
You can't change it once it's done
You only paint the picture once
It's a portrait of life
You can't live it twice
You only paint the picture once
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marriage Morn.
Fades the moonlight on the sea,
And the dawn is coming in —
What will this day bring for me,
This of all days, Evelyn?
Ah! to-day our hands we plight;
Life or death is in the vow;
All that earth knows of delight
Or of grief is round me now —
While the dawn-light limns the shore,
And thou in thy lonely sleep
Dream'st thy maiden dreams before
Hymen's mystery shall steep
Thy heart's fancies in mine own,
And the pulse of passion stir
With the esctasy that's known
Only to Love's worshipper.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Magic Unfurled in Stilly Night
MAGIC UNFURLED IN STILLY NIGHT
If fair stars glitter in my eyes from you they're sent 'tis no surprise.
Magic unfurled in stilly night, imagination wings free flight,
Advances past life's present plight, to share with you new world's delight.
Unusual lustre in my eyes from you reflects as bright sunrise
Deft spins earth's orbit's winning skies, dark light returns with shared insight.
Each 'twenty-four' speed [s]print as one - see fairies' tasks are never done!
If fair stars' sparkle represents tenderness where each assents,
May verse returned to sender's plane retain the quintessential plain,
All's well, remains, each heart sustains through to, from, each, pane eases pains.
Unforeseen our recompense as new dreams span both 'whither' 'whence'
Dispersing day's incompetence, these energies increase, intense,
Effacing care and worries, - one from two may spring, from struggles, fun.
If scintillation smoothes away the fuss, the cuss of dusty day,
Mending rays send fey touch bright, beam aura gold which somehow might
As epidemic, spread aright, for world polluted care, heal quite.
Unlooked for glister sent from you to you returns through interplay.
Dawn day prepares to permeate two tender hearts that chart shared fate,
Enchanted future cycle's spun through one in two, you too we won, won't be undone.
18 May 2008
robi03_1385_robi03_0000 AXX_LXX
(c) Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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