Sonnet XL: Severed Selves
Two separate divided silences,
Which, brought together, would find loving voice;
Two glances which together would rejoice
In love, now lost like stars beyond dark trees;
Two hands apart whose touch alone gives ease;
Two bosoms which, heart-shrined with mutual flame,
Would, meeting in one clasp, be made the same;
Two souls, the shores wave-mocked of sundering seas:—
Such are we now. Ah! may our hope forecast
Indeed one hour again, when on this stream
Of darkened love once more the light shall gleam?—
An hour how slow to come, how quickly past,—
Which blooms and fades, and only leaves at last,
Faint as shed flowers, the attenuated dream.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Related quotes
Among the Trees
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for the one my heart calls for
I wonder lost among the trees
I see your light amongst the dark
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is brighter then the rest
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is out of my reach
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light comes closer
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is bright like an angel from the sky
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light fades away and leaves me alone
I wonder lost among the trees
Without a hand to guide the way
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for my guiding light
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost, alone
I wonder afraid of the world
Around me I look for the one
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost and alone forever...................................
poem by kelly Martini
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Over And Undone
IF one might hope that when we say farewell
To life, we two might but be one at last!
But we look back on a divided past,
And a divided future must foretell.
Apart we sowed the seed that flowers in hell,
The seed that blooms in heaven apart we cast:
See what remembrances my heart holds fast--
Ask your own heart what deeds you deem done well!
The memory I find my heaven in
Is that one hand-touch you regret as sin;
Your goodness, dear, that stood between us two
And made my hell, may make a heaven for you;
So evermore must lie our souls between
The kiss unkissed, the infinite might-have-been!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Lost in Love.....
Lost in love
with the innocense of your eyes when i first saw you,
Lost in love
with your humble voice that made me crave for it even more,
Lost in love
when being friends we came to know the incompleteness in our lives,
Lost in love
with the nervousness i felt when i first expressed my love and emotions,
Lost in love
with the smell of your hairs that mesmerized me,
Lost in love
with the gulabi lips that took me to a dream world,
Lost in love
with the kissable hands that i always want to hold till eternal love,
Lost in love
with the sensuous touch of yours which made me feel heavenly,
Lost in love
with your heartbeat that made me feel very close to your heart,
Lost in love
with the ticklish tummy of yours that lightened my senses,
Lost in love
with the hug of yours which made me feel complete,
Lost in love
with the kiss of yours that lessened the gap between our souls,
Lost in love
with the pain you took to keep our relation,
Lost in love
when we were departed and alone,
Lost in love
with the undying feeling of yours that kept me awake all night,
Lost in love
when we have found our WAY BACK INTO LOVE.
poem by Villager Gulabo
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Within The Midnight Hour
In the midnight hours, my heart
breaks, the fog moves in, wraps
it arms around the morning's
longing wake. The gentle dew
falls from the nights moon, within
the loving fog, my heart
blooms.
The midnight stars fading one
by one, falling from the darkness,
until the night is done. Stars
floating within my sea of tears,
midnight awaiting for my
love to appear.
Gripping the cool night, feeling
alone, lost in the misty fog,
my heart looking for a home.
Crying to the Heaven's, my
universe in pain, moon beams
playing melodies upon my
broken heart strings.
In the midnight hour, your
sweet name I call, the galaxy
crying, losing light as it's stars
fall. Alone in the midnight hour,
my heart, the pain consumes,
within the loving fog, my heart
does bloom.
poem by Ruth warren
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Lines To R. L.
That which we are and shall be is made up
Of what we have been. On the autumn leaf
The crimson stains bear witness of its spring;
And, on its perfect nodes, the ocean shell
Notches the slow, strange changes of its growth.
Ourselves are our own records; if we looked
Rightly into that blotted crimson page
Within our bosoms, then there were no need
To chronicle our stories; for the heart
Hath, like the earth, its strata, and contains
Its past within its present. Well for us,
And our most cherished secrets, that within
The round of being few there are who read
Beneath the surface. Else our very forms,
The merest gesture of our hands, might tell
Much we would hide forever. Know you not
Those eyes, in whose dark heaven I have gazed
More curiously than on my favorite stars,
Are deeper for such griefs as they have seen,
And brighter for the fancies they have shrined,
And sweeter for the loves which they have talked?
Oh! that I had the power to read their smiles,
Or sound the depth of all their glorious gloom.
So should I learn your history from its birth,
Through all its glad and grave experiences,
Better than if -- (your journal in my hand,
Written as only women write, with all
A woman's shades and shapes of feeling, traced
As with the fine touch of a needle's point) --
I followed you from that bright hour when first
I saw you in the garden 'mid the flowers,
To that wherein a letter from your hand
Made me all rich with the dear name of friend.
poem by Henry Timrod
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Parted Presence
LOVE, I speak to your heart,
Your heart that is always here.
Oh draw me deep to its sphere,
Though you and I are apart,
And yield, by the spirit's art,
Each distant gift that is dear.
O love, my love, you are here!
Your eyes are afar to-day,
Yet, love, look now in mine eyes.
Two hearts sent forth may despise
All dead things by the way.
All between is decay,
Dead hours and this hour that dies.
O love, look deep in mine eyes!
Your hands to-day are not here,
Yet lay them, love, in my hands.
The hourglass sheds its sands
All day for the dead hours' bier;
But now, as two hearts draw near,
This hour like a flower expands.
O love, your hands in my hands!
Your voice is not on the air,
Yet, love, I can hear your voice:
It bids my heart to rejoice
As knowing your heart is there,—
A music sweet to declare
The truth of your steadfast choice.
O love, how sweet is your voice!
To-day your lips are afar,
Yet draw my lips to them, love.
Around, beneath, and above,
Is frost to bind and to bar;
But where I am and you are,
Desire and the fire thereof.
O kiss me, kiss me, my love!
Your heart is never away,
But ever with mine, for ever,
For ever without endeavour,
To-morrow, love, as to-day;
Two blent hearts never astray,
Two souls no power may sever,
Together, O my love, for ever!
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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To Lesbia
Lesbia! since far from you I've ranged,
Our souls with fond affection glow not;
You say 'tis I, not you, have changed,
I'd tell you why,--but yet I know not.
Your polish'd brow no cares have crost;
And, Lesbia! we are not much older,
Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,
Or told my love, with hope grown bolder
Sixteen was then our utmost age,
Two years have lingering past away, love!
And now new thoughts our minds engage,
At least I feel disposed to stray, love!
'Tis I that am alone to blame,
I, that am guilty of love's treason;
Since your sweet breast is still the same,
Caprice must be my only reason.
I do not, love! suspect your truth,
With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not;
Warm was the passion of my youth,
One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.
No, no, my flame was not pretended,
For, Oh! I loved you most sincerely;
And--though our dream at last is ended--
My bosom still esteems you dearly.
No more we meet in yonder bowers;
Absence has made me prone to roving;
But older, firmer hearts than ours
Have found monotony in loving.
Your cheek's soft bloom is unimpeair'd,
New beauties still are daily bright'ning,
Your eye for conquest beams prepared,
The forge of love's resistless lightning.
Arm'd thus, to make their bosoms bleed,
Many will throng to sigh like me, love!
More constant they may prove, indeed;
Fonder, alas! they ne'er can be, love!
Anticipation
'Coming events cast their shadow before.'
I had a vision in the summer light—
Sorrow was in it, and my inward sight
Ached with sad images. The touch of tears
Gushed down my cheeks:—the figured woes of years
Casting their shadows across sunny hours.
Oh, there was nothing sorrowful in flowers
Wooing the glances of an April sun,
Or apple blossoms opening one by one
Their crimson bosoms—or the twittered words
And warbled sentences of merry birds;—
Or the small glitter and the humming wings
Of golden flies and many colored things—
Oh, these were nothing sad—nor to see Her,
Sitting beneath the comfortable stir
Of early leaves—casting the playful grace
Of moving shadows in so fair a face—
Nor in her brow serene—nor in the love
Of her mild eyes drinking the light above
With a long thirst—nor in her gentle smile—
Nor in her hand that shone blood-red the while
She raised it in the sun. All these were dear
To heart and eye—but an invisible fear
Shook in the trees and chilled upon the air,
And if one spot was laughing brightest—there
My soul most sank and darkened in despair!—
As if the shadows of a curtained room
Haunted me in the sun—as if the bloom
Of early flow'rets had no sweets for me,
Nor apple blossoms any blush to see—
As if the hour had brought too bright a day—
And little birds were all too gay!—too gay!—
As if the beauty of that Lovely One
Were all a fable.—Full before the sun
Stood Death and cast a shadow long before,
Like a dark pall enshrouding her all o'er,
Till eyes, and lips, and smiles, were all no more!
poem by Thomas Hood
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The Oriental Nosegay. By Pickersgill
THROUGH the light curtains came the perfumed air,
And flung them back and show'd a garden, where
The eye could just catch glimpses of those trees
Which send sweet messages upon the breeze
To lull a maiden's sleep, and fan her cheek,
When inward thoughts in outward blushes speak.
Bequeath's a silken couch, just fit to be
A snowy shrine for some fair deity;
And there a beauty rests, lovely as those
Enchanted visions haunting the repose
Of the young poet, when his eyelids shut
To dream that love they have but dream'd as yet;--
But dream'd! Alas, that love should ever be
A happiness but made for phantasie!
And flowers are by her side, and her dark eye
Seems as it read in them her destiny.
She knew whose hand had gather'd them, she knew
Whose sigh and touch were on their scent and hue.
Beautiful language! Love's peculiar, own,
But only to the spring and summer known.
Ah! little marvel in such clime and age
As that of our too earth-bound pilgrimage,
That we should daily hear that love is fled,
And hope grown pale, and lighted feelings dead.
Not for the cold, the careless to impart,
By such sweet signs, the silence of the heart:
But surely in the countries where the sun
Lights loveliness in all he shines upon,--
Where love is as a mystery and a dream,
One single flower upon life's troubled stream;
There, there, perchance, may the young bosom thrill,
Feeling and fancy linger with love still.
She look'd upon the blossoms, and a smile,
A twilight one, lit up her lip the while.
Surely her love is blest, no leaves are there
That aught of lover's misery declare.
True, 'mid them is that pale and pining flower,
Whose dim blue colour speaks an absent hour;
Yet it is nothing but that tender sorrow
Of those who part to-day to meet to-morrow:
For there are hope and constancy beside,
And are not these to happiness allied;
And yet upon that maiden's cheek is caught
A summer evening's shade of pensive thought,
As if these large soft eyes knew all their fate,
How the heart would its destiny create,--
At once too tender, and too passionate;--
Too made for happiness to be happy here,
An angel fetter'd to an earthly sphere.--
And those dark eyes, so large, so soft, so bright,
So clear as if their very tears were light;
They tell that destiny, art thou not one
To whom love will be like the summer sun
That feeds the diamond in the secret mine,
Then calls it from its solitude to shine,
And piece by piece be broken. Watch the bloom,
And mark its fading to an early tomb,
And read in the decay upon it stealing
Of thy own wasted hope and wither'd feeling,--
Ay, fitting messengers for love! as fair,
As quickly past as his own visions are;--
Fling, fling the flowers away!
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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A Psalm of Hope
When the world beats
the rhythms of joy and sorrow,
when our hearts keep the hope
to light the dark shadows,
when our hands touch the strings
for our common song,
then I know there is a way to go:
a way to peace
a way to hope
a way to light.
When a child is caressed
by love and kindness
and a stranger is welcomed
by our hands of faith,
when each moment bears
the seed of a bright new day,
then I know there`s a dream
to find and rebuild:
a dream for peace
a dream for hope
a dream for love.
When pain in our life
numbs our senses
and the will to survive
seems extinguished,
yet a ray of hope
comes shining through,
then I know there's a place to go:
a world of peace
a world of light
a world of love.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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The Voice
Between the open heart and the whisper goodbye,
Theres a perfect teardrop in your eye.
Between the lovers moon and the trembling sky,
Theres a broken dream in your mind.
And the voice is carrying the love you have lost,
And the change of heart in someone you trust.
Yea the voice is carrying the love and the scars.
Hear the lonely voice in the dark.
Between the careful touch and the breakaway kiss,
Theres a beauty you cant resist.
Mmm, between the fall apart and the moment of bliss,
There must be something more than this.
And the voice is carrying the love you have lost.
Love you have lost.
And the change of heart in someone you trust.
Yea the voice is carrying the love and the scars.
Love and the scars.
Hear the lonely voice in the dark.
In the dark.
Hear the lonely voice.
Hear the lonely voice.
And the voice is carrying the love you have lost.
Love you have lost.
And the change of heart in someone you trust.
Yea the voice is carrying the love and the scars.
Love and the scars.
Hear the lonely voice in the dark.
Oh, yea, the voice is carrying the love you have lost.
Love you have lost.
And the change of heart in someone you trust.
Yea the voice is carrying the love and the scars.
Love and the scars.
Hear the lonely voice in the dark. in the dark.
Lonely voice. lonely voice in the dark.
Hear the lonely voice.
Hear the lonely voice in the dark...
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Fades A Dream
WHY fades a dream?
An iridescent ray
Flecked in between the tryst
Of night and day.
Why fades a dream? —
Of consciousness the shade
Wrought out by lack of light and made
Upon life's stream.
Why fades a dream?
That thought may thrive,
So fades the fleshless dream;
Lest men should learn to trust
The things that seem.
So fades a dream,
That living thought may grow
And like a waxing star-beam glow
Upon life's stream —
So fades a dream.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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A Flame For You
(d. deviller/s. hosein/c. russell)
Think about you evry minute
Dream about you evry hour of the day
Close my eyes, and I think of your kiss
Well thats all that Ive got
When youre so far away
It took some tears to let you
Thought that time would never heal me
You left my life, without a sound
After all weve been through
I still want you near me
Refrain:
A flame for you still burns
And so Im savin my love for you
A flame for you still burns
And Im holdin on
Yes. Im holdin on
Still in love with you (hey)
Remember how you get to safe and walk (ohh)
We built our life for two, oh
Guess I didnt recognize the signs
Coz I was lost in love
Lost in love with you
(repeat refrain)
Every once in a while
You find a love
That slips right through your hands
Gonna do my very best
To get you back again
A flame for you still burns
And so Im savin my love for you
(savin all my love for you)
A flame for you still burns (hey)
And Im holdin on
Yes, Im holdin on
Still in love with you
A flame for you still burns (hey, baby)
And so Im savin my love for you (savin all my love for you)
A falme for you still burn (still burn)
And Im holdin on
Yes, Im holdin on
Still in love with you
A flame for you still burns (hey)
And so Im savin my love for you (savin all my love for you)
A flame for you still burns
And Im holdin on
Yes, Im holdin on
Still in love with you
A flame for you still burns
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Polyacrostic - A Final Act I Play... and Yet
A FINAL ACT I PLAY... AND YET
ALL FADES INTO NOTHINGNESS AT LAST,
FADES fast, flame flame attracts, itself devours.
INTO Time’s vacuum hours suction hour –
NOTHINGNESS: the frame for fame when Past
AT journey’s end the Future meets to cast
LAST dies with Fate – which late or early sours.
ASHES CHILLING TIME’S IMMORTAL POWERS:
CHILLING bigot, priest, iconoclast.
TIME’S melting pot’s a plumbless well, repast
IMMORTAL, tasteless still, which overpowers
POWERS of perception, leaves life’s flowers
LOST and blighted ‘neath the blast, soon passed.
AND yet Youth’s fountain springs, denies ‘too late’.
YET Hope fears’ dupes would prove, Love knows no date!
polyacrostic sonnet 21 November 1991
robi03_0486_robi03_0000 BSX_DKZ
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Stream Is Flowing From The West
The stream is flowing from the west;
As if it poured from yonder skies,
It wears upon its rippling breast
The sunset's golden dyes;
And bearing onward to the sea,
'T will clasp the isle that holdeth thee.
I dip my hand within the wave;
Ah! how impressionless and cold!
I touch it with my lip, and lave
My forehead in the gold.
It is a trivial thought, but sweet,
Perhaps the wave will kiss thy feet.
Alas! I leave no trace behind --
As little on the senseless stream
As on thy heart, or on thy mind;
Which was the simpler dream,
To win that warm, wild love of thine,
Or make the water whisper mine?
Dear stream! some moons must wax and wane
Ere I again shall cross thy tide,
And then, perhaps, a viewless chain
Will drag me to her side,
To love with all my spirit's scope,
To wish, do everything but -- hope.
poem by Henry Timrod
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Prayer Contemplating Final Farewells
Most Compassionate Heart
Who created love as the mystical essence
That sustains the universe,
Be with us in the lonely hour
Of final farewells,
At the moment
When we must acquiesce
To contemplate
The beautiful eyes
Of a friend or loved one
For which we will never
Gaze into again,
The hands that will no longer
Clasp ours in kind unity,
The loving voice stilled
From which we found
Pleasure and solace,
The brother or sister
Who journeyed with us
Through mutual struggles,
The mother or father
Who conceived our heart
And carried us
Through the most fragile days
Of this earthly sojourn.
Guide us through the sorrow
To understand and accept your purposes,
Grant us the knowledge and ability
To incorporate our departed loved ones
Into our own being,
To remember every smile and friendly greeting,
To recall every wise conversation,
To not lose a single kiss
But to have those treasured experiences
Woven into the very fabric of our existence
So that there is no death but only life,
That our own capacity to love
May only grow and increase aided by those
Who live within us,
That our departed loved ones
May yet touch many lives
Using the kindness of our hands.
May we walk
In the candlelight of hope
That seems dramatically dimmed by immense sadness
But which you never allow to be completely extinguished.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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The Mirabeau bridge
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
And all our loves
Why does it make so plain
That any joy must always follow pain
Let the night come the hour sound clear
The days all pass I’m still here
Our hands intertwined let’s stay face to face
While far below
The bridge of our arms strays
The languid wave of each endless gaze
Let the night come the hour sound clear
The days all pass I’m still here
Our love drifts away like these waters flow
Love drifts away
And our lives are so slow
With Hope more violent than we could know
Let the night come the hour sound clear
The days all pass I’m still here.
The days and weeks pass in a ceaseless train
But no past time
Or past love comes again
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
Let the night come the hour sound clear
The days all pass I’m still here.
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Zero Hour
A lost age of forgotten dreams
Reflections in a broken mirror
Hiding the images of hway might have been
Time stands still as the glass water shatters
Beneath the strain of humanity's dying voice
No hope, no fear, no choice
Lost hope, one fear, last chance
Welcome to zero hour
The gods look on, desperate to comprehend
The moment it all failed
Their tears fall to the earth
Polluted with humanity's sins
And they close their eyes
Their children have lost their way.
No hope, no fear, no choice
Lost hope, one fear, last chance
Welcome to zero hour
Time begins anew, the gods awaken
>From their sleep
And with it a new dream
Like the Phoenix we are reborn from the
Ashes of the past
The choice is ours, a new dawn, a new hope,
A new age
As we begin at zero hour.
song performed by by Quo Vadis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gertrude, Or Fidelity Till Death
Dark lowers our fate,
And terrible the storm that gathers o'er us;
But nothing, till that latest agony
Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose
This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-house,
In the terrific face of armed law,
Yea, on the scaffold, if it needs must be,
I never will forsake thee.
-Joanna Baillie
HER hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes rais'd,
The breeze threw back her hair;
Up to the fearful wheel she gaz'd–
All that she lov'd was there.
The night was round her clear and cold,
The holy heaven above,
Its pale stars watching to behold
The might of earthly love.
'And bid me not depart,' she cried,
'My Rudolph, say not so!
This is no time to quit thy side,
Peace, peace! I cannot go.
Hath the world aught for me to fear,
When death is on thy brow?
The world!–what means it?–mine is here–
I will not leave thee now.
'I have been with thee in thine hour
Of glory and of bliss;
Doubt not its memory's living power
To strengthen me thro' this!
And thou, mine honour'd love and true,
Bear on, bear nobly on!
We have the blessed heaven in view,
Whose rest shall soon be won.'
And were not these high words to flow
From woman's breaking heart?
Thro' all that night of bitterest woe
She bore her lofty part;
But oh! with such a glazing eye,
With such a curdling cheek–
Love, love! of mortal agony,
Thou, only thou, should'st speak!
The wind rose high–but with it rose
Her voice, that he might hear:
Perchance that dark hour brought repose
To happy bosoms near;
While she sat striving with despair
Beside his tortured form,
And pouring her deep soul in prayer
Forth on the rushing storm.
She wiped the death-damps from his brow
With her pale hands and soft,
Whose touch upon the lute-chords low
Had still'd his heart so oft.
She spread her mantle o'er his breast,
She bath'd his lips with dew,
And on his cheek such kisses press'd
As hope and joy ne'er knew.
Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith,
Enduring to the last!
She had her meed–one smile in death–
And his worn spirit pass'd.
While ev'n as o'er a martyr's grave
She knelt on that sad spot,
And, weeping, bless'd the God who gave
Strength to forsake it not!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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I Dream
dream of a better world where as people would see each other nothing more than people of a different shade of gray
I dream of all my problems crumbling in my hands never to utter another sound
I dream of love renewed no more forsaken the day of my fulfillment
I dream of blues skies and flowers lying in a field of hope and no more despair
I dream of moonlit nights where the smell of jasmine permeates the air with its sweet aroma
I dream of being in love once again with that person that just takes my breath away
I dream of angels dancing in candle light
I dream of naked waterfalls that drench my soul and ease my pain
I dream of earthly fulfillments never imagined before
I dream of paradise lost and never found
I dream of turquoise seas surrounding my unadorned body
I dream of piece no longer the beast devouring the children of the west
I dream of calmer seas that no longer rocks the boat of tranquility
I dream of you and me forever be
I dream no more the lonely night of my salvation
I dream of happiness once more on my enlightened soul
I dream of no more shadows haunting me as I slumber
I dream no more my weary eyes of sadness abound
I dream crying the day cometh the dawn no more
I dream walking on the beach with the one I love hand in hand
I dream of midnight caressing while the sun comes up
I dream of what could have been, what could be, and what has gone
I dream to no longer forsake my sanity to the darkness of my emotions
I dream of a place whereas I can lounge and bask in my redolence roses
I dream a dream of lesser conscienceless to the world that holds me back
I dream of no more waking hours consumed by society at large
I dream the dream of romantics no longer uttering there voices aloud
I am a dreamer, but without dreamers what would this world be
As empty as the heart that knows no love
As dark as the night that knows no stars
I think so there for I must have feelings
I live so there for I must be alive
I sleep so there for I must be a dreamer
Dream on and let the night bring you to places in the sun
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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