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The Passionate Shepherd to his Love

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherds's swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

poem by Christopher Marlowe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Her Reply

IF all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.

But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither--soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,--
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.

poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nymph’s Reply To The Shepherd

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,
The Coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.

poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

quote by Christopher Marlowe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thy Nightly Gown, Thy Shoes, Thy Shows and Bed of Roses

Thy nightly gown, thy shoes, thy shows and bed of roses
Bring back thy cap, thy kirtle and the thousands of poises
Soon, too soon they break, too soon wither, hast to be forgotten
In folly ripe, in dash to edge, in madness or reason rotten

Belt of straw and ivy meadows with sprouting buds
Coral clasps and spring with amber studs
All these in me no means can tarnish or move
To come to thy and be thy eternal love

But can youth last, and love still breed
Have joys no date, no limits no age no need
The shades and memories of these delights of love
Will prove any age or time's blemish of you my precious dove

Copy Rights 2010
All rights reserved

poem by Isaac Ziv
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come Dance with Me - Parody Christopher Marlowe - Come Live with Me and be My Love

Come dance with me and find release,
howl to the moon, with wild wolves run,
no nightmares now as heart finds peace, -
a stellar future crowned with fun
shall underwrite harvest increase
two reap together, story spun
from morn to night as worries cease,
while one and one at last make one.

Come dance we'll circumnavigate
the seven seas as zephyr’s breeze
anticipates and may translate
past cares to luck which soul strings frees.
Harp, Terpsichore shall play as Fate
unwinds past phantom_mime banshees,
life’s letter stamps ‘reciprocate’
inventing new realities.

Come dance with me, unlearn life’s woe
owe only to your inner voice
as chivalry and honour flow -
no need to justify your choice.
Slow motion – Time stood still – will throw
away wait’s weights as both rejoice
in unexpected overthrow
of anchors as trim sails we hoist.

Come dance with me, no strings attached –
except of harp or violin -
devotion, eloquence unmatched,
will shed all lies of ties that sin.
Thus inner doors may be unlatched,
as new dimensions open in
embracing wave which saves unscratched
soul stirred from hibernation’s bin.

Come dance with me, endearing smile
will echo caring, sharing, joy,
while Lara’s theme will reconcile
true love to trust, no wiles employ.
Tiara crowned Princess no guile
may meet who, sweet, greets verse employ
as an expression timed to dial
away Time’s hands all else destroy.

Come dance with me, no judgment blind
will claim, will, blame, will shame, reject, -
all icicles soon left behind
Spring’s robin sings you’re soul elect.
From past which could be less unkind
we’ll destination fly direct
where all but lines are underlined,
no need for conduct circumspect.

Come dance, together we’ll unlearn
the past’s mistakes, to future fair
to promised land hand, hand, will turn
with light and laughter everywhere.
The seasons slip by, none return,
yet bird’s song echoes, in your hair
may make its nest, chirp soft, not spurn,
and answer questions pondered there.

Come dance with me, I’ll hold you tight,
In tenderness which knows no bounds,
Restoring hidden wings for flight
Tears soon shall ceasee, – for fears no grounds.
Here magic, comfort, and respite,
there melody received resounds,
acceptance and contentment quite
unmeasured pleasure ache impounds.

Come dance with me, and we will learn
what makes lips tingle, goose-bumps rise,
what makes spine shiver, plush blush burn
each day will bring some fresh surprise.
Eyes Isis envies will discern
from green to blue each spark that flies,
as touch, from glitter fairy’s fern
may guide, not steer, still share concern.

Come dance with me, I’ll always keep,
my word - a promise from my heart -
integrity runs very deep,
each part of each need never part.
Thus whether way is slope or steep
Until Earth’s end – which sings fresh start –
alert I’d watch awake, asleep,
protecting dreams from sudden start.

Come dance, from trap or golden cage,
forever free to spread your wings
in harmony which knows nor rage,
nor stings nor slaps, - where spirit sings
in ecstasy as, turning page,
we’ll Autumn sage and Summer’s swings
unite as, taking center stage,
Spring warmth from Winter’s tumult springs.

Come dance, your silent grace shall show
how one above, below, unique
shines out, from shadows free, whose glow
pre-empts necessity to speak.
From yesterdays the future’s flow
shall still remember tender cheek,
yet turn towards joy’s overflow,
life liberate from sadness, pique.

Come dance to tune which wounded heart
returns to health and inspiration
we’ll reel, we’ll heal, real hopes may chart
beyond old altar’s altercation.
Past struggles’ tide and tears depart,
as sun and moon anticipation
eliminate invasive dart,
while heralding emancipation.

Come dance with me, we’ll share the key
that opens inspiration’s portal
uncover wellspring’s latency -
spirit infinite, immortal, -
find answers to eternity
withheld from passing shadow mortal
as soul’s connection as one we
establish, spurn deceptions’ maw well.

Come dance with me, I’ve said before, -
who twice ten thousand lines could add, -
and here repeat for one time more
ambition plain: to turn sad glad.
If this sweet song your pleasure move
this greeting was inscribed Above
all let and hindrance swift remove –
come live with me and be my love …

3 February 2007
robi03_1600_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kittle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle,

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull.
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each My morning,
If these delights thy mind may move,
then live with me and be my love.

Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593 Published 1592
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COME LIVE WITH ME - THE NYMPH'S REPLY
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.

But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither - soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs, -
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.

Sir Walter RALEIGH 1552_1618 rale02_0001_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
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THE BAIT
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

There will the river whispering run
Warmed by thy eyes, more than the sun.
And there th'enamoured fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
By sun, or moon, thou darkenest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs, with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net:

Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest,
Or curious traitors, sleave silk flies
Bewitch poor fishes' wandering eyes.

For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait,
That fish, that is not catched thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.

John DONNE 1572_1631 donn02_0003_marl01_0002 PXX_JMX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE SHEPHERD TO HIS FAIR ONE
To Phillis, to love and live with him

Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.

The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,
With crawling woodbine over-spread:
By which the silver-shedding streams
Shall gently melt thee into dreams.

Thy clothing next, shall be a gown
Made of the fleeces' purest down.
The tongues of kids shall be thy meat;
Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat
The paste of filberts for thy bread
With cream of cowslips buttered:
Thy feasting-table shall be hills
With daisies spread, and daffadils;
Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,
For meat, shall give thee melody.

I'll give thee chains and carcanets
Of primroses and violets.
A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
That richly wrought, and this as brave;
So that as either shall express
The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,
When Themilis his pastime makes,
There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.

On holydays, when virgins meet
To dance the heys with nimble feet,
Thou shalt come forth, and then appear
The Queen of Roses for that year.

And having danced ('bove all the best)
Carry the garland from the rest,
In wicker-baskets maids shall bring
To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
The blushing apple, bashful pear,
And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.

Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
The name of Phillis in the rind
Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.

To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
Be-prank'd with ribbands, to this end,
This, this alluring hook might be
Less for to catch a sheep, than me.

Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
Not made of ale, but spiced wine;
To make thy maids and self free mirth,
All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.

Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
Of winning colours, that shall move
Others to lust, but me to love. -

These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
If thou wilt love, and live with me.

Robert HERRICK 1591_1674 herr01_0007_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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COME LIVE WITH ME AND BE MY LOVE
Come, live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of peace and plenty, bed and board,
That chance employment may afford.

I’ll handle dainties on the docks
And thou shalt read of summer frocks:
At evening by the sour canals
We’ll hope to hear some madrigals.

Care on thy maiden brow shall put
A wreath of wrinkles, and thy foot
Be shod with pain: not silken dress
But toil shall tire thy loveliness.

Hunger shall make thy modest zone
And cheat fond death of all but bone –
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

Cecil Day LEWIS 1904_1972 lewi2_0001_marl01_0002 PXX_JLX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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ATLANTIC CITY IDYLL
Come bet with me and be my luck
and bring me gimlets tart with lime.
We’ll chase the wily holy buck
and toss the dice and sneer at time.
And we will dazzle in our clothes
and neon dazzle us as well.
We’ll strike a sleek and moneyed pose,
we’ll yell a blithe, ecstatic yell
until at last we’ve squandered all,
shot the wad and maxed the cards,
until we’ve quaffed till dawns appall
and hoarse are velvet-throated bards.
Come stroll with me and be my muse
of feckless hope and vain desire.
On the boardwalk the huckster woos
and Armless Annie tongues her lyre.

Kate BENEDICT 19xx_20xx bene02_0001_marl01_0002 PWX_JXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE DISPASSIONATE SHEPHERDESS
Do not live with me, do not be my love.
And yet I think we may some pleasures prove
That who enjoy each other, in the haste
Of their most inward kissing, seldom taste.

Being absent from me, you shall still delay
To come to me, and if another day,
No matter, so your greeting burn as though
The words had all the while been picked in snow.

No other gift you'll offer me but such
As I can neither wear, nor smell, nor touch -
No flowers breathing of evening, and no stones
Whose chilly fire outlasts our skeletons.

You'll give me once a thought that stings, and once
A look to make my blood doubt that it runs.
You'll give me rough and sharp perplexities,
And never, never will you give me ease.

For one another's blessing not designed,
Marked for possession only of the mind,
And soon, because such cherishing is brief,
To ask whereon was founded our belief.

That there was anything at all uncommon
In what each felt for each as man and woman -
If this then be our case, if this our story,
Shall we rail at heaven? Shall we, at the worst, be sorry?

Heaven's too deaf, we should grow hoarse with railing,
And sorrow never quickened what was failing.
But if you think we thus may pleasures prove,
Do not live with me, do not be my love.

Babette DEUTSCH 1895_1982 deut01_0001_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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BACCHANAL
“Come live with me and be my love, ”
He said, in substance. “There’s no vine
We will not pluck the clusters of,
Or grape we will not turn to wine.”

It’s autumn of their second year.
Now he, in seasonal pursuit,
With rich and modulated cheer,
Brings home the festive purple fruit;

And she, by passion once demented,
- That woman out of Botticelli –
She brews and bottles, unfermented,
The stupid and abiding jelly.

VRIES Peter de 1910_19 vrie01_0001_marl01_0002 PWX_LJX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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LOVE UNDER THE REPUBLICANS (OR DEMOCRATS)
Come live with me and be my love
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of a marriage conducted with economy
In the Twentieth Century Anno Donomy.

We’ll live in a dear little walk-up flat
With practically room to swing a cat
And a potted cactus to give it hauteur
And a bathtub equipped with dark brown water.

We’ll eat, without undue discouragement,
Foods low in cost but high in nouragement
And quaff with pleasure, while chatting wittily,
The peculiar wine of Little Italy.

We’ll remind each other it’s smart to be thrifty
And buy our clothes for something-fifty.
We’ll bus for miles on holidays
For seas at depressing matinees,

And every Sunday we’ll have a lark
And take a walk in Central Park.
And one of these days not too remote
You’ll probably up and cut my throat.

Ogden NASH 1902_1971 - Verses from 1929 On
Nash01_0011_marl01_0002 PWX_DJL

Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE PASSIONATE PROFITEER TO HIS LOVE
Come feed with me and be my love,
And pleasures of the table prove,
Where Prunier and The Ivy yield
Choice dainties of the stream and field.

At Claridge thou shalt duckling eat,
Sip vintages both dry and sweet,
And thou shalt squeeze between thy lips
Asparagus with buttered tips.

On caviare my love shall graze,
And plump on salmon mayonnaise,
And browse at Scott’s beside thy swain
On lobster Newburg with champagne.

Between hors d’oeuvres and canapés
I’ll feast thee on poularde soufflé
And every day within thy reach
Pile melon, nectarine and peach.

Come share at the Savoy with me
The menu of austerity;
If in these pastures thou wouldst rove
Then feed with me and be my love.

« Sagittarius » Targets 1942
KATZIN Olga Miller 1896_1987 katz01_0009_marl01_0002 PXX_JLX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
I love thee - I love thee!
'Tis all that I can say;
It is my vision in the night,
My dreaming in the day;
The very echo of my heart,
The blessing when I pray:
I love thee - I love thee!
Is all that I can say.

I love thee - I love thee!
Is ever on my tongue;
In all my proudest poesy
That chorus still is sung;
It is the verdict of my eyes,
Amidst the gay and young:
I love thee - I love thee!
A thousand maids among.

I love thee - I love thee!
Thy bright and hazel glance,
The mellow lute upon those lips,
Whose tender tones entrance;
But most, dear heart of hearts, thy proofs
That still these words enhance.
I love thee - I love thee!
Whatever be thy chance.

Thomas Hood 1799_1845
Hood01_0008_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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A MICROSCOPIC SERENADE
“Oh come, my love, and seek with me
A realm by grosser eye unseen,
Where fairy forms will welcome thee,
And dainty creatures hail thee queen.
In silent pools the tube I’ll ply,
Where green conferva-threads lie curled,
And proudly bring to thy bright eye
The trophies of the protist world.

We’ll rouse the stentor from his lair,
And gaze into the cyclops ’ eye;
In chara and nitella hair
The protoplasmic stream descry,
For ever weaving to and fro
With faint molecular melody,
And curious rotifers I’ll show,
And graceful vorticellidae.

Where melicertae ply their craft
We’ll watch the playful water-bear,
And no envenomed hydra’s shaft
Shall mar our peaceful pleasure there;
But while we whisper love’ssweettale
We’ll trace, with sympathetic cart,
Within the embryonic snail
The growing rudimental heart.

Where rolls the volvox sphere of green,
And plastids move in Brownian dance -
If, wandering ‘mid that gentle scene,
Two fond amoebae shall perchance
Be changed to one beneath our sight
By process of biocrasis,
We’ll recognise, with rare delight,
A type of our prospective bliss.

Or dearer thou by far to me
In thy sweet maidenly estate
Than any seventy-fifth could be,
Of aperture however great!
Come, go with me and we will stray
Through realm by grosser eye unseen,
Where protophytes shall homage pay,
And protozoa hail thee queen.”

“Jacob HENRICI” Scribners November 1879
PSsc01_0001_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE PASSIONATE HOUSEHOLDER TO HIS LOVE

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shepherds All And Maidens Fair

PIPE, shepherds, pipe, the summer's ripe;
So wreathe your crooks with flowers;
The world's in tune to Love and June,
The days are rich in hours,
In rosy hours, in golden hours--
Love's crown and fortune fair,
So gather gold for Love to hold,
And flowers for Love to wear!

Sing, maidens, sing! A dancing ring
Of pleasures speed your way;
Too harsh and dry is fierce July,
Too maiden-meek was May;
But Love and June their old sweet tune
Are singing at your ear:
So learn the song and troop along
To meet your shepherds dear!

Oh, Chloris fair, a rose to wear,
And gold to spend have I--
When all are gay on this June day
You would not bid me sigh?
You would not scorn a swain forlorn--
Each shepherd far and near
Hastes to his sweet, with flying feet,
As I towards my dear.

No maids there be in Arcady
But have their shepherds true;
Must you alone despise the one
Who only pipes for you?
You have no ear my pipe to hear
Though all for you it be;
And I no eyes for her who sighs
And only sings for me!

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To Phillis, To Love And Live With Him

TO PHILLIS, TO LOVE AND LIVE WITH HIM

Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.
The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,
With crawling woodbine over-spread:
By which the silver-shedding streams
Shall gently melt thee into dreams.
Thy clothing next, shall be a gown
Made of the fleeces' purest down.
The tongues of kids shall be thy meat;
Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat
The paste of filberts for thy bread
With cream of cowslips buttered:
Thy feasting-table shall be hills
With daisies spread, and daffadils;
Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,
For meat, shall give thee melody.
I'll give thee chains and carcanets
Of primroses and violets.
A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
That richly wrought, and this as brave;
So that as either shall express
The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,
When Themilis his pastime makes,
There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.
On holydays, when virgins meet
To dance the heys with nimble feet,
Thou shalt come forth, and then appear
The Queen of Roses for that year.
And having danced ('bove all the best)
Carry the garland from the rest,
In wicker-baskets maids shall bring
To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
The blushing apple, bashful pear,
And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.
Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
The name of Phillis in the rind
Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.
To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
Be-prank'd with ribbands, to this end,
This, this alluring hook might be
Less for to catch a sheep, than me.
Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
Not made of ale, but spiced wine;
To make thy maids and self free mirth,
All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.
Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
Of winning colours, that shall move
Others to lust, but me to love.
--These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
If thou wilt love, and live with me.

poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We May Live Together

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To My Dear and Loving Husband

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.

I prize thy love more than whole Mines of Gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence.

Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love lets so persevere,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by anonym
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Astrophel's Song Of Phyllida And Corydon

Fair in a morn (O fairest morn!),
Was never morn so fair,
There shone a sun, though not the sun
That shineth in the air.
For the earth, and from the earth,
(Was never such a creature!)
Did come this face (was never face
That carried such a feature).
Upon a hill (O blessèd hill!
Was never hill so blessèd),
There stood a man (was never man
For woman so distressed):
This man beheld a heavenly view,
Which did such virtue give
As clears the blind, and helps the lame,
And makes the dead man live.
This man had hap (O happy man!
More happy none than he);
For he had hap to see the hap
That none had hap to see.
This silly swain (and silly swains
Are men of meanest grace):
Had yet the grace (O gracious gift!)
To hap on such a face.
He pity cried, and pity came
And pitied so his pain,
As dying would not let him die
But gave him life again.
For joy whereof he made such mirth
As all the woods did ring;
And Pan with all his swains came forth
To hear the shepherd sing;
But such a song sung never was,
Nor shall be sung again,
Of Phyllida the shepherds' queen,
And Corydon the swain.
Fair Phyllis is the shepherds' queen,
(Was never such a queen as she,)
And Corydon her only swain
(Was never such a swain as he):
Fair Phyllis hath the fairest face
That ever eye did yet behold,
And Corydon the constant'st faith
That ever yet kept flock in fold;
Sweet Phyllis is the sweetest sweet
That ever yet the earth did yield,
And Corydon the kindest swain
That ever yet kept lambs in field.
Sweet Philomel is Phyllis' bird,
Though Corydon be he that caught her,
And Corydon doth hear her sing,
Though Phyllida be she that taught her:
Poor Corydon doth keep the fields
Though Phyllida be she that owes them,
And Phyllida doth walk the meads,
Though Corydon be he that mows them:
The little lambs are Phyllis' love,
Though Corydon is he that feeds them,
The gardens fair are Phyllis' ground,
Though Corydon is he that weeds them.
Since then that Phyllis only is
The only shepherd's only queen;
And Corydon the only swain
That only hath her shepherd been,--
Though Phyllis keep her bower of state,
Shall Corydon consume away?
No, shepherd, no, work out the week,
And Sunday shall be holiday.

poem by Nicholas Breton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Him We Live

Father! I bless thy name that I do live,
And in each motion am made rich with thee,
That when a glance is all that I can give,
It is a kingdom's wealth if I but see;
This stately body cannot move, save I
Will to its nobleness my little bring;
My voice its measured cadence will not try,
Save I with every note consent to sing;
I cannot raise my hands to hurt or bless,
But I with every action must conspire;
To show me there how little I possess,
And yet that little more than I desire;
May each new act my new allegiance prove,
Till in thy perfect love I ever live and move.

poem by Jones Very
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Live for Love, Love for Live, Love! Love! Love!

Love you in the morning!
Love you in the evening,
Love you in the noonday,
Love you all the way!
Live for love, love for live, love! Love! Love!

Winter and summer come and just go!
But true lovers come and gather, never forgo,
Love tugs the heart string!
Love ignites the soul to sing,
Live for love, love for live, love! Love! Love!

I will give you the wind of my sky today,
I will give you the waves in my ocean someday,
I will give you the beat in my heart one-day!
I will give you the wreath of flowers everyday;
Live for love, love for live, love! Love! Love!

Love gives you inspiration,
Yet love takes your ambition!
Love gives you admiration,
Yet love takes your animation!
Live for love, love for live, love! Love! Love!

Love bestows you with promised lands Sojourn,
Yet love breaks your invigoration!
Love bestows you with fairylands forlorn,
yet love shocks your vilification!
Live for love, love for live, love! Love! Love!

poem by Harindhar Reddy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shepherd's Wife's Song

Ah, what is love? It is a pretty thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,
And sweeter, too:
For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
And cares can make the sweetest love to frown:
Ah then, ah then,
If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

His flocks are folded; he comes home at night
As merry as a king in his delight,
And merrier, too:
For kings bethink them what the state require,
Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire:

He kisseth first, then sits at blithe to eat
His cream and curds, as doth a king his meat,
And blither, too:
For kings have often fears when they do sup,
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup:

To bed he goes, as wanton then, I ween,
As is a king in dalliance with a queen;
More wanton, too:
For kings have many griefs, affects to move,
Where shepherds have no greater grief than love:

Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound
As doth the king upon his bed of down;
More sounder, too:
For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,
Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill:

Thus, with his wife, he spends the year as blithe
As doth the king at every tide or sithe,
And blither, too:
For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,
Where shepherds laugh and love upon the land:
Ah then, ah then,
Since country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

poem by Robert Greene
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Amazing Grace

'Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.'
So Robert Herrick's poetry
has written yet his words may be
as nought compared to all that's poured
in soul-song here for my adored.

'Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
Or woods or steepy mountain yield.' -
Though Marlowe's maid as hand and glove
swain fain would fit her heart to move,
his verse is but an empty shield
compared to all I'd have revealed.

'But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.'
Thus Walter Raleigh mocks, shortsold,
the love whose span cannot be told
no empty write I'd write, hymn's hum -
no strings save mandolin to strum.

'For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait,
That fish, that is not catched thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.'
John Donne declaimed - admire his feat -
as none could e'er exaggerate
your angel wings, your beauty's eye,
your heart whose depth none chart, your sigh!

'Care on thy maiden brow shall put
A wreath of wrinkles, and thy foot
Be shod with pain: not silken dress
But toil shall tire thy loveliness.'
Day-Lewis says, - bride's white turns soot
with high ideals crushed underfoot -
yet my heart feel the years' duress
must only add to happiness.

'Come, live with us and be our cook,
And we will all the whimsies brook
That German, Irish, Swede, and Slav
And all the dear domestics have.'
Says F.P.A. - beyond my book
such verse appears, no second look
I'd grant to others where your light
leads ever onwards, seeds delight.

'Until at last we’ve squandered all,
shot the wad and maxed the cards,
until we’ve quaffed till dawns appall
and hoarse are velvet-throated bards.'
Thus tricked as Benedict would call
may suit for clubs' mascara fards,
for shattered mirrors' shivered shards, -
but I for you no trumps could call.

'That there was ought at all uncommon
In what each felt as man and woman -
If this our case, if this our story,
Shall we, at the worst, be sorry? '
Thus Babette Deutsch may sing - a common
complaint where maids abused by come on
as pawns are treated - care and worry
for you unknown shall be, dear glory!

'And she, by passion once demented,
- That woman out of Botticelli –
She brews and bottles, unfermented,
The stupid and abiding jelly.'
de Vries may state - a state repented
by those led on by greed or belly,
advantages misrepresented,
celebrities as seen on telly.

Should that reflect our daily 'lark
with weekly walk in Central Park.
till one of these days not too remote
you’ll probably up and cut my throat.' -
I quote Nash, - Ogden's - bite and bark
an choice to which I'd never hark.
You are my suit, my hat, my coat,
emotions' motions, ocean's float.

'At Claridge thou shalt duckling eat,
Sip vintages both dry and sweet,
And squeeze between enchanting lips
Asparagus with buttered tips.'
This Katzin may suggest as treat!
For you each day dark Fate I'd cheat -
though other blooms from stem death strips -
you, peerless rose, Time won't eclipse.

'I love thy bright and hazel glance,
The mellow lute upon those lips,
Whose tender, tender tones entrance'
Says Thomas Hood who swaying hips
it seems escapes, or leaves to chance.
One magic touch - your fingertips -
encourage me to plea advance.

'Oh come, my love, and seek with me
A realm by grosser eye unseen,
Where fairy forms will welcome thee,
And dainty creatures hail thee queen.'
This is a cold reflection we -
though writ in Scribner's magazine,
pen unknown,19th. century -
could find together, far from spleen.

'Come vote for me and back my run,
And once this next election’s won,
For your int’rests I will slave,
Never acting like a knave.'
This Silverstein in story spun,
half serious and half in fun,
may preach - yet as as equal wave
farewell to cowards' surface brave.

Come live with me, my partner be,
and we will every contract make
that tricky opportunity
presents in life of bid and (s) take.
You moon, I sun, eternity
will round each other spin, ne'er shake, -
alliance through equality
that none may question, none mistake.

Trumps we shall call, my Queen of hearts,
diamonds divine declare clean breast.
We’ll not proceed by fits and starts,
but lead from strength, ne’er second best!
No clubs will e'er disturb your rest,
no spades will darken Cupid's darts,
your breast is my mount Everest,
your whole is greater than my parts.

With points imperial we’ll show
the world we make a perfect match,
we’ll club together till Time’s flow
will slam the door and bolt the latch
on others too unskilled to grow
together come what weather, catch
disease of boredom, envy, know
not joys eternal we may hatch.

Let thus united be displayed
our souls upon life’s table baize,
always to call a spade a spade,
while psyching with a silent gaze.
Amazing grace, hopes never greyed,
unquantified shared trust which stays
as constant, tender, unafraid,
from better reach to red letter days.

Rewards, not risks and penalties,
we’ll surely reap - who’ll never err, -
above the line we’ll score with ease
to win life’s cup without a slur.
For you time rhymes sublime to please,
fulfillment through life's struggle-stir,
symbiotic complementarities
no empty phrase, praise-phase transfer.

This Valentine could verses add
till time turns tail and tale returns
upon itself through cycles glad
to demonstrate no other earns
love evergreen - no passing fad -
as yin through yang threads joy which yearns
to share and ne'er beware, be sad, -
as understanding more discerns.

We spin from cradle to the grave,
from love prenuptial onward heading
seemingly simple, from close shave,
from puberty to diamond wedding,
inviting all, compose, Time brave,
nor rash, nor brash,
it should transpire to verse conclave
convinced these stanzas' worth's worth spreading.

Remedial action we should take,
each remnant of resistance fling,
articulate shared feelings, make
from letters moving tune to sing
love's praises, phases, no mistake -
each mundane article may bring
true inspiration, stock life's lake
with thinklings fished by lines which swing.

Thus if what's writ be deemed enough
as introduction, invitation,
as shape of christmas stocking stuff
to fill until this dedication
attracts applause which off the cuff
emits approval, celebration,
then share with me through smooth and rough,
throughout lifelong collaboration.

Throughout life’s game we’ll not revoke,
but future points provoke with skill,
though now and then a psychic joke
helps spin time's wheel that’s never still.
Where others slurp their rum and coke
we'll grow together, hopes fulfill
where others fade as passing smoke,
we will combine both worth and will.

We’ll bridge our differences and
send signals which are never crossed,
ne’er overlook another’s hand
keep insight objectives lost
by those who love can't understand,
by those who later count the cost,
by those who colors on demand
display to mask their hidden frost.

If these delights your heart may move
to partner me through life’s long gambol,
then live with me and be my Love, -
I bid you, without long preamble
lend but one wing to turtle dove
may I the other add, no gamble
is this but bliss which must improve
as time spells rhyme love may unscramble.

Should all above still not suffice,
I'll add what hope's anticipation
inscribed last week - if you as ice
remain let pain dissolve, elation
our train of life tracks in a trice
departing from uncertain station
to dance on air as we twin, splice
and spice each day with fresh sensation...

Come dance with me and find release,
team into dreams, with wild wolves run,
no nightmares stalk where heart finds peace.
A stellar future crowned with fun
shall gather as harvest increase
we reap together, story spun
from morn to night as worries cease,
while one and one at last make one.

Come dance, we’ll circumnavigate
the seven seas as zephyr’s breeze
anticipates and may translate
past cares to luck which soul strings frees.
Harp, Terpsichore shall play as Fate
unwinds past phantom_mime banshees,
life’s letter stamps ‘reciprocate’
creating fresh realities.

Come dance, unlearn life’s kernel woe
owe only to your inner voice
as chivalry and honour flow -
no need to justify heart’s choice.
Slow motion – Time stood still – will throw
away wait’s weights as two rejoice
in unexpected overthrow
of anchors as trim sails are hoist.

Come dance, advance, no strings attached –
except of harp or violin -
devotion, eloquence unmatched,
shall shed all lies of ties that sin.
Thus inner doors may be unlatched,
contradictions’ caves cave in
Embrace new wave which saves unscratched
soul saved from hibernation’s bin.

Come dance, step clear, endearing smile
will echo caring, sharing, joy,
while dream’s theme reel will reconcile
to trust in real, no wiles employ.
Tiara crowned Princess no guile
may meet who, sweet, greets verse employ
as an expression timed to dial
away Time’s hands all else destroy.

Come dance with me, I’ll hold you tight,
in tenderness which knows no bounds,
restoring hidden wings for flight
tears soon shall cease, – for fears no grounds.
Here magic, comfort, and respite,
there melody received resounds,
acceptance and contentment quite
unmeasured pleasure ache impounds.

Come dance with me, and we will learn
what makes lips tingle, goose-bumps rise,
what makes spine shiver, plush blush burn, -
each day shall herald warmsurprise.
Eyes Isis envies will discern
from blue to you each spark that flies,
as touch, from glitter fairy’s fern
may guide, not steer, still share concern.

Come dance, my dear, I’ll always keep,
my word - a promise from my heart -
integrity runs very deep,
each part of each need never part.
Thus whether way is slope or steep
until Earth’s end – which sings fresh start –
alert I’d watch awake, asleep,
protecting dreams from sudden start.

Come dance to tune which wounded heart
returns to health and inspiration
we’ll reel, we’ll heal, real hopes may chart
beyond old altar’s altercation.
Past struggles’ tide and tears depart
as sun and moon anticipation
eliminate invasive dart,
while welcoming emancipation.

Come dance with me, I’ve said before, _
who twice ten thousand lines could add, -
and here repeat for one time more
ambition plain: to turn sad glad.
If this sweet song your pleasure move
this greeting was inscribed Above,
all let and hindrance swift remove –
come live with me and be my love …

PLEASE SEE NOTES BELOW
___________________

Responsa in order of appearance of quotations cited in the poem above:

Come Live with Me and Be My Love

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kittle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle,

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull.
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each My morning,
If these delights thy mind may move,
then live with me and be my love.

Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593

-----

Come Live with Me - The Nymph's Reply

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.

But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither-soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs, -
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.

Sir Walter RALEIGH 1552_1618

_______________________

The Bait

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

There will the river whispering run
Warmed by thy eyes, more than the sun.
And there th'enamoured fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
By sun, or moon, thou darkenest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs, with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net:

Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest,
Or curious traitors, sleave silk flies
Bewitch poor fishes' wandering eyes.

For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait,
That fish, that is not catched thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.

John DONNE 1572_1631

________________________

The Shepherd to his Fair One