Sonnet LI
DOe I not see that fayrest ymages
Of hardest Marble are of purpose made?
for that they should endure through many ages,
ne let theyr famous moniments to fade.
Why then doe I, vntrainde in louers trade,
her hardnes blame which I should more co[m]mend?
sith neuer ought was excellent assayde,
which was not hard t'atchiue and bring to end.
Ne ought so hard, but he that would attend,
mote soften it and to his will allure:
so doe I hope her stubborne hart to bend,
and that it then more stedfast will endure.
Onely my paines wil be the more to get her,
but hauing her, my ioy wil be the greater.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sonnet LXXXIII
MY hungry eyes, through greedy couetize,
Still to behold the obiect of theyr payne:
with no contentment can themselues suffize,
but hauing pine, and hauing not complayne
For lacking it, they cannot lyfe sustayne,
and seeing it, they gaze on it the more:
in theyr amazement lyke Marcissus vayne
whose eyes him staru'd: so plenty makes me pore.
Yet are myne eyes so filled with the store
of that fayre sight, that nothing else they brooke:
but loath the things which they did like before,
and can no more endure on them to looke.
All this worlds glory seemeth vayne to me,
and all theyr shewes but shadowes sauing she.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XXXI
Ah why hath nature to so hard a hart,
giuen so goodly giftes of beauties grace?
whose pryde depraues each other better part,
and all those pretious ornaments deface.
Sith to all other beastes of bloody race,
a dreadfull countenaunce she giuen hath:
that with theyr terrour al the rest may chace,
and warne to shun the daunger of theyr wrath.
But my proud one doth worke the greater scath,
through sweet allurement of her louely hew:
that she the better may in bloody bath,
of such poore thralls her cruell hands embrew.
But did she know how ill these two accord,
such cruelty she would haue soone abhord.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XXIX
See how the stubborne damzell doth depraue
my simple meaning with disdaynfull scorne:
and by the bay which I vnto her gaue,
accoumpts my selfe her captiue quite forlorne.
The bay (quoth she) is of the victours borne,
yielded them by the vanquisht as theyr meeds,
and they therewith doe poetes heads adorne,
to sing the glory of their famous deedes.
But sith she will the conquest challeng needs,
let her accept me as her faithfull thrall,
that her great triumph which my skill exceeds,
I may in trump of fame blaze ouer all.
Then would I decke her head with glorious bayes,
and fill the world with her victorious prayse.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XLII
THe loue which me so cruelly tormenteth,
So pleasing is in my extreamest paine:
that all the more my sorrow it augmenteth,
the more I loue and doe embrace my bane.
Ne doe I wish (for wishing were but vaine)
to be acquit fro my continuall smart:
but ioy her thrall for euer to remayne,
and yield for pledge my poore captyued hart
The which that it from her may neuer start,
let her, yf please her, bynd with adamant chayne:
and from all wandring loues which mote peruart,
his safe assurance strongly it restrayne.
Onely let her abstaine from cruelty,
and doe me not before my time to dy.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XXXV
MY hungry eyes through greedy couetize,
still to behold the obiect of their paine:
with no contentment can themselues suffize,
but hauing pine and hauing not complaine.
For lacking it they cannot lyfe sustayne,
and hauing it they gaze on it the more:
in their amazement lyke Narcissus vaine
whose eyes him staru'd: so plenty makes me poore
Yet are mine eyes so filled with the store
of that faire sight, that nothing else they brooke,
but lothe the things which they did like before,
and can no more endure on them to looke.
All this worlds glory seemeth vayne to me,
and all their showes but shadowes sauing she.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Paralell Between Bowling And Preferment
Preferment, like a Game at bowles,
To feede our hope with diverse play
Heer quick it runnes, there soft it rowles:
The Betters make and shew the way.
As upper ground, so great Allies
Doe many cast on theyr desire:
Some uppe are thrust, and forc't to rise,
When those are stopt that would aspire.
Some whose heate and zeale exceed
Thrive well by Rubbs that curb theyr hast
Some that languish in theyr speede
Are cherisht by a gentle blast.
Some rest: and others cutting out
The same by whome themselves were made:
Some fetch a compasse farre about
And secretly the marke invade.
Some gett by knocke, and so advance
Theyr fortune by a boystrous ayme:
And some who have the sweetest chance
Theyr mistresse hitt, and winne the game.
The fayrest casts are those that owe
No thanks to Fortunes giddy sway:
Such honest men good bowles doe throw,
Whose owne true Byass cutts the way.
poem by William Strode
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Painful parting
The pain of parting may you never endure
May you never experience a siren's allure
A beggar I am; my love is profane
And I have endured a lot of pain
Being wretched and lonely I do not enjoy
Oh, how this pain I would like to destroy
But where should I go and what should I do?
I'm completely lost; I have no clue
My life is sad; there is no joy
This pain of mine may God destroy
If the pain of parting could feel my pain
It won't endure it; it would go insane
I have no hope; there is only despair
this pain, O God, was I born to bear?
So, Hafiz, I feel like a nightingale
Having lost his rose, who can only wail.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Be (Love Poem)
Sometimes it’s hard to be apart
Sometimes it’s hard to be brave
Sometimes it’s hard to be cold
Sometimes it’s hard to be daring
Sometimes it’s hard to be early
Sometimes it’s hard to be friends
Sometimes it’s hard to be good
Sometimes it’s hard to be happy
Sometimes it’s hard to be in-love
Sometimes it’s hard to be just
Sometimes it’s hard to be kind
Sometimes it’s hard to be lovely
Sometimes it’s hard to be mellow
Sometimes it’s hard to be nasty
Sometimes it’s hard to be out
Sometimes it’s hard to be poor
Sometimes it’s hard to be quiet
Sometimes it’s hard to be ready
Sometimes it’s hard to be simple
Sometimes it’s hard to be together
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Is Sure and Certain
What is sure and certain
Is death
Who is dead and who is living
Who is learned who is not
Not easy to tell.
We are here to endure
Everything that are
Transitory fleeting temporary
We are here to endure
cold and heat and rise and fall.
We should know pain and pleasure
We are here to feel and endure
And we know nothing is certain
Nothing is sure.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The priest persuades a humble people to endure their hard lot, a politician urges them to rebel against it, and a scientist thinks of a method that does away with the hard lot altogether.
Go, Piteous Heart
GO, pytyous hart, rasyd with dedly wo,
Persyd with payn, bleding with wondes smart,
Bewayle thy fortune, with vaynys wan and blo.
O Fortune vnfrendly, Fortune vnkynde thow art,
To be so cruell and so ouerthwart,
To suffer me so carefull to endure,
That wher I loue best I dare not dyscure !
One there is, and euer one shalbe,
For whose sake my hart is sore dyseasyd ;
For whose loue, welcom dysease to me !
I am content so all partys be pleasyd :
Yet, and God wold, I wold my payne were easyd !
But Fortune enforsyth me so carefully to endure,
That where I loue best I dare not dyscure.
poem by John Skelton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poem 95
VNto his mother straight he weeping came,
and of his griefe complayned:
Who could not chose but laugh at his fond game,
though sad to see him pained.
Think now (quod she) my sonne how great the smart
of those whom thou dost wound:
Full many thou hast pricked to the hart,
that pitty neuer found:
Therefore henceforth some pitty take,
when thou doest spoyle of louers make.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poem 14
NOw al is done; bring home the bride againe,
bring home the triumph of our victory,
Bring home with you the glory of her gaine,
With ioyance bring her and with iollity.
Neuer had man more ioyfull day then this,
Whom heauen would heape with blis.
Make feast therefore now all this liue long day,
This day for euer to me holy is,
Poure out the wine without restraint or stay,
Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,
Poure out to all that wull,
And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,
That they may sweat, and drunken be withall.
Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall,
And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine,
And let the Graces daunce vnto the rest;
For they can doo it best:
The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing,
To which the woods shal answer & theyr eccho ring.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Moving Oleta
Moving Oleta was the hardest thing he'd done
The nurses saw an old woman cryin'
But he saw the love of his life
She don't know where she is
But she knows this isn't home
Love is a hard, hard road
He met her in the summer of thirty-seven
In a brush arbor down on the Rush Creek shore
He loved her black hair and the mischief in her smile
But she won him with her eyes
All the years and children gone
He still sees her the same
Love is a hard, hard road
He woke up and mornin' and drove into town
He stayed all day til her dinner came
Then he took her to her room
Leaned on her wheelchair like a walker
And covered her with a quilt that she'd made
Only God and a couple of nurses
Helped the old man shoulder the load
Love is a hard, hard road
He said "They tell me this is all that's left,
Say this hell on earth is best,
I list all those reasons and I still don't understand"
He cursed his body old and weak
Tears of failure burned his cheeks
He said "Oh, don't you know I prayed to die before this day"
Love is a hard, hard road
There's a shadow much darker than the shadow of death
When you fear the reaper might not come today
They line 'em up in Laz-E-Boys out in the sunroom
The TV keeps the quiet away
She can't recall his name
And she's the only love he's known
Love is a hard, hard road
Love is a hard, hard road
Moving Oleta was the hardest thing he'd done
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
ENDURE...by talile ali
INTRO AND CHORUS
I GOT THE POWER
YOU GOT THE POWER
WE GO TTHE POWER
TO ENDURE
V1
LIFE CAN BE GRITTY
LIFE CAN BE SWEET
LIFE CAN BE UGLY
LIFE CAN BE NEAT
V2
RUNNING FOR SOMETHING
RUNNING IN TIME
RUNNING TIL YOU ARE LEFT BEHIND
V3
THE WHEELS KEEP ON SPINNING
THE WORLD NEVER STOPS
THE POOR KEEP ON TRYING
WHILE THR RICH TREAD HEAVILY ON TOP
V4
ENDURE
WE ALL MUST ENDURE
BE SURE
WE ALL WILL ENDURE
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Letting You Go
It ain't no fun lying down to sleep
And there ain't no secrets left for me to keep
I wish the stars up in the sky
Would all just call in sick
And the clouds would take the moon out
On some one-way trip
I drove all night down streets that wouldn't bend
But somehow they drove me back here once again
To the place i lost at love, and the place i lost my soul
I wish i'd just burn down this place that we called home
It would all have been so easy
If you'd only made me cry
And told me how you're leaving me
To some organ grinder's lullaby
It's hard, so hard - it's tearing out my heart
It's hard letting you go
Now the sky, it shines a different kind of blue
And the neighbor's dog don't bark like he used to
Well - me, these days
I just miss you - it's the nights that i go insane
Unless you're coming back for me
That's one thing i know that won't change
It's hard, so hard - it's tearing out my heart
It's hard letting you go
Now some tarot card shark said i'll draw you a heart
And we'll find you somebody else new
But i've made my last trip to those carnival lips
When i bet all that i had on you
It's hard, it's hard, it's hard, so hard
It's hard letting you go
It's hard, so hard, it's tearing out my heart
But it's hard letting you go
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet VIII
I live, I burn, I drown and I die
I endure at once chill and cold;
Life is too hard and too soft to hold;
I am joyful and sad, don't ask me why.
Suddenly I laugh and at the same time cry
And as I'm happy I must endure grief,
It lasts forever and goes like a thief,
Suddenly I bloom and vanish into sigh.
Thus I suffer Amors' inconstancy
And when I think I am in great pain,
Without thinking, it is gone again.
Then when my joy is a certainty
And my longing for love is not in vain,
I am in pain all over once again.
poem by Louise Labe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Geue Place Ye Louers, Here Before
Geue place ye louers, here before
That spent your bostes and bragges in vaine:
My Ladies beawtie passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Than doth the sonne, the candle light:
Or brightest day, the darkest night.
And thereto hath a trothe as iust,
As had Penelope the fayre.
For what she saith, ye may it trust,
As it by writing sealed were.
And vertues hath she many moe,
Than I with pen haue skill to showe.
I coulde rehearse, if that I wolde,
The whole effect of natures plaint,
When she had lost the perfit mold,
The like to whom she could not paint:
With wringyng handes howe she dyd cry,
And what she said, I know it, I.
I knowe, she swore with ragyng mynd:
Her kingdom onely set apart,
There was no losse, by lawe of kind,
That could haue gone so nere her hart.
And this was chiefly all her payne:
She coulde not make the lyke agayne.
Sith nature thus gaue her the prayse,
To be the chiefest worke she wrought:
In faith, me thinke, some better waies
On your behalfe might well be sought,
Then to compare (as ye haue done)
To matche the candle with the sonne.
poem by Henry Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Goodby Mass
Sitting on a hard chair try to sit straight
Sitting on a hard chair this moment won't wait
Listening to the speakers they're talking about you
Look at all the people all the people you know
Sitting with my back straight it becomes hard to hear
Some people are crying it becomes hard to hear
I don't think you'd have liked it you would have made a joke
You would have made it easier you'd say "tomorrow I'm smoke"
Sitting on a hard chair how far we have come
Trying hard to listen to your friends who have come
Some of them are famous and some are just like me
Trying hard to listen trying hard to see
Sitting in a hard chair it's over time to stand
Some people are crying I turn to grab your hand
It's your daughter saying thank you
You, you would have made a joke
"Isn't this something," you say, "tomorrow I'm smoke
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
John Ford: VI
HEW hard the marble from the mountain’s heart
Where hardest night holds fast in iron gloom
Gems brighter than an April dawn in bloom,
That his Memnoniah likeness thence may start
Revealed, whose hand with high funereal art
Carved night, and chiselled shadow: be the tomb
That speaks him famous graven with signs of doom
Intrenched inevitably in lines athwart,
As on some thunder-blasted Titan’s brow
His record of rebellion. Not the day
Shall strike forth music from so stern a chord,
Touching this marble: darkness, none knows how,
And stars impenetrable of midnight, may.
So locms the likeness of thy soul, John Ford.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!