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Sonnet XVII: My Poet, Thou Canst Touch

My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
And strike up and strike off the general roar
Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats
In a serene air purely. Antidotes
Of medicated music, answering for
Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears. God's will devotes
Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?
A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine
Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse?
A shade, in which to sing--of palm or pine?
A grave, on which to rest from singing? Choose.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Sonnet XVII

My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
And strike up and strike off the general roar
Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats
In a serene air purely. Antidotes
Of medicated music, answering for
Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears. God's will devotes
Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use ?
A hope, to sing by gladly ? or a fine
Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse ?
A shade, in which to sing--of palm or pine ?
A grave, on which to rest from singing ? Choose.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Xvii

My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
And strike up and strike off the general roar
Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats
In a serene air purely. Antidotes
Of medicated music, answering for
Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears. God's will devotes
Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use ?
A hope, to sing by gladly ? or a fine
Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse ?
A shade, in which to sing--of palm or pine ?
A grave, on which to rest from singing ? Choose.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Sonnet 17 - My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes

XVII

My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
And strike up and strike off the general roar
Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats
In a serene air purely. Antidotes
Of medicated music, answering for
Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears. God's will devotes
Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?
A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine
Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse?
A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine?
A grave, on which to rest from singing? Choose.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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What Though I Cannot Break My Chain

What though I cannot break my chain
Or e’er throw off my load,
The things impossible to men
Are possible to God.

Who, who shall in Thy presence stand,
Or match omnipotence;
Unfold the grasp of Thy right hand
And pluck the sinner thence?

Faith to be healed I fain would have,
O might it now be given;
Thou canst, thou canst the sinner save,
And make me meet for heav’n.

Bound down with twice ten thousand ties,
Yet let me hear Thy call;
My soul in confidence shall rise,
Shall rise and break through all.

Thou canst o’ercome this heart of mine,
Thou wilt victorious prove;
For everlasting strength is Thine,
And everlasting love.

poem by Augustus Montague Toplady
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Requiem

For thee the birds shall never sing again,
Nor fresh green leaves come out upon the tree,
The brook shall no more murmur the refrain
For thee.

Thou liest underneath the windswept lea,
Thou dreamest not of pleasure or of pain,
Thou dreadest no to-morrow that shall be.

Deep rest is thine, unbroken by the rain,
Ay, or the thunder. Brother, canst thou see
The tears that night and morning fall in vain
For thee?

poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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The Tiger- past predator: present prey!

Tiger, Tiger, poached for hide!

By Man’s bullets many died;

Bones and claws of thine are dried;

Poachers have thee crucified.

Past predator, now a prey!

Recklessly killed every day;

Thy extinction is so nigh;

Mortality of thine’s high.

Lord of Jungle, O Tiger!

Hast thou become much tamer?

Thy reserves have dwindled fast;

Wilt thou soon be thing of past?

Oh, what sinews, what muscles!

Victor of fiercest tussles;

Thou with agility stalk;

Despite weight, thou canst cat-walk!

No beast dare challenge thy might;

Thine eyes glimmer green at night;

Thou live in forests so dense;

Mighty beast- ’tis no pretence.

Frightens thy roar every beast;

Stalk thou grassland’s beasts for feast;

What strength fills thy graceful frame!

Jungle Lord, wherefrom thou came?

poem by John Celes
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Canst Thou Leave Me Thus, My Katie

Chorus
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie?
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie?
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus, for pity?

Is this thy plighted, fond regard,
Thus cruelly to part, my Katie?
Is this thy faithful swain's reward-
An aching, broken heart, my Katie!
Chorus

Farewell! and ne'er such sorrows tear
That finkle heart of thine, my Katie!
Thou maysn find those will love thee dear,
But not a love like mine, my Katie,
Chorus

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Blessed Be Thy Name Forever

Blessed be thy name for ever,
Thou of life the guard and giver!
Thou canst guard thy creatures sleeping,
Heal the heart long broke with weeping.

Thou who slumbered not, nor sleepest!
Blest are they Thou kindly keepest:
Thine the flaming sphere of light!
Thine the darkness of the night!

Thine the morning and the even,
God of angels, God of heaven!
God of life that fadeth never!
Glory to thy name for ever!

poem by James Hogg
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Scandalmonger

Good Morrow gossip art thou well?
Methinks thou hast some news to tell,
what scandal now has reached thine ears.
Must thou believe all that thou hears?
And must thou then embroider it
to make a tastier tidbit.
Thou spreadest rumour cheerfully
shouldst thou not tremble fearfully
Does not thy conscience bother thee.
Art thou so blind thou canst not see,
thy flapping tongue doth cause distress
to honest folk who are helpless.
Against thy tongue there’s no defence.
None can proclaim their innocence.

21-May-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Another Epilogue to Faith

If thou can move mountains
canst thou move my heart for me?
That it may beat the way it should be.

If I with thee can walk on waters,
canst thou dry the tears for me?
That I may walk in them no more.

If I with thee can do anything,
then why canst I love him back?
That I in kindness may fill what I lack.

If thou could lead the way for me,
canst thou put me to the path
that leads me to forgiveness..

that I may in goodness forgive myself.

poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Sonnet: Man, Thou Must Atone Now

Harass me not, Brother, harass me not;
Thou hast made blunder again, once again;
To have redressed my grievances, Thou ought,
Alas! Thou caused my heart to break with pain.

May be, Thou couldst create my file thine way;
Each person's file is maintained by One Boss;
None can prevent Truth's final Win some day;
Thine paper-work will soon be proved as farce.

Please rectify thine past mistakes somehow,
Lest God's punishment should descend on Thee;
Atone thine sin in action now and Now;
Man's cleverness can fai1 him miserably.

Why pick on me when I had done no wrong?
Canst Thou pay damages for suff 'rings long?

poem by John Celes
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The Gifts of God

THE LIGHT that fills thy house at morn,
Thou canst not for thyself retain;
But all who with thee here are born,
It bids to share an equal gain.

The wind that blows thy ship along,
Her swelling sails cannot confine;
Alike to all the gales belong,
Nor canst thou claim a breath as thine.

The earth, the green out-spreading earth,
Why hast thou fenced it off from me?
Hadst thou than I a nobler birth,
Who callest thine a gift so free?

The wave, the blue encircling wave,
No chains can bind, no fetters hold;
Its thunders tell of Him who gave
What none can ever buy for gold.

poem by Jones Very
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When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree. Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet And if thou wilt, remember And if thou wilt, forget.

quote by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wouldest Thou!

THY SERVANTS CLAIM THAT ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BELONGS TO YOU!
THY SCRIPTURES HAS IT WRITTEN! AND I QUOTE!
GO YE TO MY SERVANT JOB! DESTROY ALL HE HAS, BUT TOUCH NOT HIS LIFE!
THY SERVANTS SAY THIS TO ME!
IN EVERYTHING, GIVE THANKS UNTO GOD!
WOULDEST THOU GIVE THANKS UNTO ME IF I WERE GOD AND YOU WERE ME?
WOULDEST THOU WORSHIP ME IF I HAD DONE ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME BY THE DOINGS OF THINE SERVANTS?
THY SCRIPTURES HAST PROVEN THAT THE DOINGS OF THE DEVIL BE BY THY BIDDENS!
HOW THEN CAN THOU AND THINE HOUSEHOLD BE CALLED THE GOOD?
HOW THEN CANST THOU AND THINE HOUSEHOLD BE INNOCENT?
FOR ALL EVIL BY ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BE OF THEE!
FOR ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BELONGS TO YOU! THEY CLAIM!
WOULDEST THOU RESPECT ME IF I DID UNTO YOU BY THE HANDS OF MINE SERVANTS ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME BY THE HANDS OF THINE SERVANTS?
WOULDEST THOU?

poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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A Dialog

I.

Death, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee:
Canst thou not spare, of all our hopes have built,
One shelter where our spirits fain would be,
Death, if thou wilt?

No dome with suns and dews impearled and gilt,
Imperial: but some roof of wildwood tree,
Too mean for sceptre's heft or swordblade's hilt.

Some low sweet roof where love might live, set free
From change and fear and dreams of grief or guilt;
Canst thou not leave life even thus much to see,
Death, if thou wilt?

II.

Man, what art thou to speak and plead with me?
What knowest thou of my workings, where and how
What things I fashion? Nay, behold and see,
Man, what art thou?

Thy fruits of life, and blossoms of thy bough,
What are they but my seedlings? Earth and sea
Bear nought but when I breathe on it must bow.

Bow thou too down before me: though thou be
Great, all the pride shall fade from off thy brow,
When Time and strong Oblivion ask of thee,
Man, what art thou?

III.

Death, if thou be or be not, as was said,
Immortal; if thou make us nought, or we
Survive: thy power is made but of our dread,
Death, if thou be.

Thy might is made out of our fear of thee:
Who fears thee not, hath plucked from off thine head
The crown of cloud that darkens earth and sea.

Earth, sea, and sky, as rain or vapour shed,
Shall vanish; all the shows of them shall flee:
Then shall we know full surely, quick or dead,
Death, if thou be.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Sonnet LII: What? Dost Thou Mean

What? Dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart?
To take all mine and give me none again?
Or have thine eyes such magic or that art
That what they get they ever do retain?
Play not the tyrant, but take some remorse;
Rebate thy spleen, if but for pity's sake;
Or, cruel, if thou canst not, let us 'scourse,
And, for one piece of thine, my whole heart take.
But what of pity do I speak to thee,
Whose breast is proof against complaint or prayer?
Or can I think what my reward shall be
From that proud beauty, which was my betrayer?
What talk I of a heart, when thou hast none?
Or, if thou hast, it is a flinty one.

poem by Michael Drayton
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Clasping of Hands

LORD, Thou art mine, and I am Thine,
If mine I am; and Thine much more
Then I or ought or can be mine.
Yet to be Thine doth me restore,
So that again I now am mine,
And with advantage mine the more,
Since this being mine brings with it Thine,
And Thou with me dost Thee restore:
If I without Thee would be mine,
I neither should be mine nor Thine.

Lord, I am Thine, and Thou art mine;
So mine Thou art, that something more
I may presume Thee mine then Thine,
For Thou didst suffer to restore
Not Thee, but me, and to be mine:
And with advantage mine the more,
Since Thou in death wast none of Thine,
Yet then as mine didst me restore:
O, be mine still; still make me Thine;
Or rather make no Thine and Mine.

poem by George Herbert
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Sonnet 134: So, now I have confessed that he is thine

So, now I have confessed that he is thine,
And I my self am mortgaged to thy will,
Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,
For thou art covetous, and he is kind,
He learned but surety-like to write for me
Under that bond that him as fist doth bind.
The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou usurer, that putt'st forth all to use,
And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake;
So him I lose through my unkind abuse.
Him have I lost, thou hast both him and me;
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.

poem by William Shakespeare
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In Maximum

WOULDST thou be free? I think it not, indeed;
But if thou wouldst, attend this simple rede:
When quite contented }thou canst dine at home
Thou shall be free when }
And drink a small wine of the march of Rome;
When thou canst see unmoved thy neighbour's plate,
And wear my threadbare toga in the gate;
When thou hast learned to love a small abode,
And not to choose a mistress A LA MODE:
When thus contained and bridled thou shalt be,
Then, Maximus, then first shalt thou be free.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Song Of The Bell. (From The German)

Bell! thou soundest merrily,
When the bridal party
To the church doth hie!
Bell! thou soundest solemnly.
When, on Sabbath morning,
Fields deserted lie!

Bell! thou soundest merrily;
Tellest thou at evening,
Bed-time draweth nigh!
Bell! thou soundest mournfully.
Tellest thou the bitter
Parting hath gone by!

Say! how canst thou mourn?
How canst thou rejoice?
Thou art but metal dull!
And yet all our sorrowings,
Arid all our rejoicings,
Thou dost feel them all!

God hath wonders many,
Which we cannot fathom,
Placed within thy form!
When the heart is sinking,
Thou alone canst raise it,
Trembling in the storm!

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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