Mary
Sweet Mary the first time she ever was there
Came into the Ball room among the Fair
The young Men and Maidens around her throng
And these are the words upon every tongue
An Angel is here from the heavenly Climes
Or again does return the Golden times
Her eyes outshine every brilliant ray
She opens her lips tis the Month of May
Mary moves in soft beauty and conscious delight
To augment with sweet smiles all the joys of the Night
Nor once blushes to own to the rest of the Fair
That sweet Love and Beauty are worthy our care
In the Morning the Villagers rose with delight
And repeated with pleasure the joys of the night
And Mary arose among Friends to be free
But no Friend from henceforward thou Mary shalt see
Some said she was proud some calld her a whore
And some when she passed by shut to the door
A damp cold came oer her her blushes all fled
Her lillies and roses are blighted and shed
O why was I born with a different Face
Why was I not born like this Envious Racet
Why did Heaven adorn me with bountiful hand
And then set me down in an envious Land
To be weak as a Lamb and smooth as a Dove
And not to raise Envy is calld Christian Love
But if you raise Envy your Merits to blame
For planting such spite in the weak and the tame
I will humble my Beauty I will not dress fine
I will keep from the Ball and my Eyes shall not shine
And if any Girls Lover forsakes her for me
I'll refuse him my hand and from Envy be freet
She went out in Morning attird plain and neat
Proud Marys gone Mad said the Child in the Street
She went out in Morning in plain neat attire
And came home in Evening bespatterd with mire
She trembled and wept sitting on the Bed side
She forgot it was Night & she trembled and cried
She forgot it was Night she forgot it was Morn
Her soft Memory imprinted with Faces of Scorn
With Faces of Scorn and with Eyes of disdain
Like foul Fiends inhabiting Marys mild Brain
She remembers no Face like the Human Divine
All Faces have Envy sweet Mary but thine
And thine is a Face of sweet Love in Despair
And thine is a Face of mild sorrow and care
And thine is a Face of wild terror and fear
That shall never be quiet till laid on its bier
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
To Mary in Heaven
I.
I met thee first in May, Mary!
The flower-crowned month of May;
But now thou art away, Mary!
Away from me—away!
Thou wert that all to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
II.
Ah! then thine eyes were mild, Mary!
Thy deep blue eyes were mild;
For thou wert then a child, Mary!
And I another child.
Thou wert that all to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
III.
Thy face was then so meek, Mary!
So saintly mild, so meek,
Thy lily-form seemed weak, Mary!
And mine for thine grew weak
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
IV.
You led me through the meads, Mary!
The flower-enameled meads,
By brooks of rustling reeds, Mary!
By brooks of rustling reeds—
Where thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
V.
Wherever you then went, Mary!
No matter where you went—
I followed with content, Mary!
Because you were content.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VI.
I recollect the morn, Mary!
The beautiful May-Morn,
Beside the Field of Corn, Mary!
The rustling reeds of Corn—
That thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VII.
Ah! then I took thy hand, Mary!
Thy lily snow-white hand;
And walked along the sand, Mary!
The milk-white road of sand.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VIII.
I caught thee round the waist, Mary!
The slender Sylph-like waist,
And felt my heart beat fast, Mary!
Because thine own beat fast.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
IX.
Such words fell from thy tongue, Mary!
Such sweet words from thy tongue,
That when you talked you sung, Mary!
You never talked but sung.
Then thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
X.
Thus through the month of May, Mary!
The flower-crowned month of May,
We, courting, went to play, Mary!
And courted in our play.
The years were then to me, Mary!
As hours are now to me;
As time is now to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XI.
For Love knows nought of years, Mary!
Love nothing knows of years;
And sheds no bitter tears, Mary!
Time measured is by tears.
Thus thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XII.
What thou art now above, Mary!
I was, as if above;
For Heaven is made of love, Mary!
And I was full of love.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XIII.
But now these days are gone, Mary!
These halcyon days are gone!
And I am left alone, Mary!
Alone on earth-- alone!
What would I give to see, Mary!
Thy precious form to see?
All thou wouldst give to be, Mary!
In this dark world with me.
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers from Eonchs of Ruby (1851)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hello Mary Lou
Hello mary lou, goodbye heart,
Sweet mary lou, Im so in love with you
I knew mary lou, wed never part
So hello mary lou, goodbye heart.
Passed me by one sunny day, flashed those big brown eyes my way
And oo I wanted you forever more
Im not one that gets around, swear my feet stuck to the ground
And though I never did meet you before
I said hello mary lou, goodbye heart,
Sweet mary lou, Im so in love with you
I knew mary lou, wed never part
So hello mary lou, goodbye heart.
Saw your lips I heard your voice, believe me I just had no choice,
Wild horses couldnt make me stay away.
Thought about a moonlit night, my arms around you good an tight,
Thats all I had to see for me to say.
Hey, hey, hello mary lou, goodbye heart,
Sweet mary lou, Im so in love with you
I knew mary lou, wed never part
So hello mary lou, goodbye heart.
So hello mary lou, goodbye heart.
Yes, hello mary lou, goodbye heart.
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Mary In Summer
LAY your head here, Mary,
Lay your head here,
While the blown grass, Mary,
With timid voice and wary,
Sings in your ear:—
The grass which round us, Mary,
Shuts like a nest;
By your dear limbs, dear Mary,
Lighter than limbs of Faery,
Daintily press'd.
Back with it all though, Mary,
Back and aside;
The wind comes this way, Mary,
And here the trees are airy
And the skies are wide.
What do your eyes fear, Mary,
So grave and soft?
I love to see them, Mary,
In whimsical vagary
Lifted aloft.
Mary, Mary, Mary,
Laugh in my face:
You know now, my own Mary,
No eyes can laugh so rarely
Or grant such grace.
Your cheek is pale now, Mary,
And red, by turns.
Why should the hand be chary
Of that to give which, Mary,
The heart so yearns?
Give me your hand, ah Mary,
Give me your hand:
In city or in prairie
There is none kinder, Mary,
From land to land.
Your lips to my lips, Mary,
Your lips to mine:
High up in Hebe's dairy
No milk so sweet, my Mary,
On earth no wine.
Lay your head here, Mary,
Lay your head here;
While my heart now, Mary,
The pleasant tune to vary,
Beats in your ear.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Envy Exposed
Green with Envy does not describe
The color worn by this foul Sin
For green is the color of living things
An Envious Heart has no life therein
The color Blue for Envy will not do
Blue is the sky where freedom sings
In skies so many dreams take flight
An Envious Heart has no wings
Envy cannot dress in Yellow or Gold
The warm colors of the life giving Sun
An Envious Heart is so bitterly cold
With no joie de vivre for all of life’s fun
Envy dare not wear any shade of Red
A color so linked to precious bloodshed
Blood is sacred not to be wantonly shed
An Envious Heart would bleed others till dead
Purple is the color of Passionate fire
An Envious Heart knows only Hate’s ire
Pink is a color where innocent youth may abide
An Envious Heart is tired and shriveled inside
Nor can Envy ‘s color be Black as night
For the star filled night is laced with light
Envy won’t wear Purity’s symbolic White
An Envious Heart does not own such a right
Envy cannot even lay its claim to Grey
(Muddled mix of color though be as it may)
Grey is the color of softness seen
An Envious Heart is hard and mean
What Envy wears best is Invisibility
So denuded of Soul none would wish to see
No color born of Heaven will suit it well
An Envious Heart will be naked in Hell
poem by Mary Havran
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A Song
Sweet dreams, form a shade
O'er my lovely infant's head!
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy, silent, moony beams!
Sweet Sleep, with soft down
Weave thy brows an infant crown
Sweet Sleep, angel mild,
Hover o'er my happy child!
Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my delight!
Sweet smiles, mother's smile,
All the livelong night beguile.
Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
Sweet moan, sweeter smile,
All the dovelike moans beguile.
Sleep, sleep, happy child!
All creation slept and smiled.
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o'er thee doth mother weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace;
Sweet babe, once like thee
Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:
Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When He was an infant small.
Thou His image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee!
Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
Who became an infant small;
Infant smiles are his own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
poem by William Blake
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The Moon's Minion
Thine eyes are like the sea, my dear,
The wand'ring waters, green and grey;
Thine eyes are wonderful and clear,
And deep, and deadly, even as they;
The spirit of the changeful sea
Informs thine eyes at night and noon,
She sways the tides, and the heart of thee,
The mystic, sad, capricious Moon!
The Moon came down the shining stair
Of clouds that fleck the summer sky,
She kissed thee, saying, 'Child, be fair,
And madden men's hearts, even as I;
Thou shalt love all things strange and sweet,
That know me and are known of me;
The lover thou shalt never meet,
The land where thou shalt never be!'
She held thee in her chill embrace,
She kissed thee with cold lips divine,
She left her pallor on thy face,
That mystic ivory face of thine;
And now I sit beside thy feet,
And all my heart is far from thee,
Dreaming of her I shall not meet,
And of the land I shall not see!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Bloody Mary
When youre waltzing down the high street
Singing that sweet french perfume song
Looking out for the boys who couldnt sing along.
Moving like a dancer on the ballroom floor,
Sweet ballerina get me begging for more
When youre rolling your eyes behind your dior shades.
Bloody mary, the queen of the ball,
Bloody mary, you want it all.
Ive been looking for you, looking for me.
I like sugar in my woman more than saccharine,
Too much sweet talk make a nice boy mean.
All in all, mary, youre no good for me.
Just like a bee-sting, babe, youre a pain in my heart
Hurting me more and more.
You get me down on my knees when you talk dirty to me.
Bloody mary, the queen of the ball,
Bloody mary, you want it all.
Ive been looking for you.
Bloody mary, bloody mary,
Bloody mary, bloody mary.
You know that madame palm and her five sweet daughters
Couldnt give a man what the doctor ordered.
Ooh, mary, I love the way you turn it on.
(solo)
Bloody mary, the queen of the ball,
Bloody mary, you want it all.
Ive been looking for you.
Bloody mary, bloody mary,
Bloody mary, bloody mary.
You know that madame palm and her five sweet daughters
Couldnt give a man what the doctor ordered.
Ooh, mary, I love the way you turn it on.
I told, ooh, mary, I love the way you turn it on.
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Envy Nothing But One
I don’t envy the angels with wings who can fly
I’ve been soaring in the beautiful sky of your love
I don’t envy the beauty of the rainbow
You’ve made me the most beautiful woman in your love
I don’t envy the freedom of the dolphins swimming in the ocean
I’ve been swimming in the ocean of your loving eyes
I don’t envy Shakespeare for his love poems
I’ve become the greatest poet since I met you
I don’t envy Romeo’s faith to Juliet
You’ve never turned your heart from me, not even once
I don’t envy the softness of the dew the morning has
You’ve been kissing me gently with your tender lips
I don’t envy Monalisa’s wonderful smile Leonardo has
I’ve got one of mine on your face
I don’t envy the sweet sound a harp has
I’ve got a sweeter one when you whisper in my ears
I envy nothing but one
The way you love and make me feel this way
poem by Santi Dewi Sihombing
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Mary Mary Magdalene
Mary Mary Magdalene,
what do all those stories mean?
Mary, Mary, is it true,
Jesus had a thing for you?
Mary, Mary – He lay with you?
Mary, Mary, tell me true
Mary, Mary, red hair wild,
did He leave you great with child?
Mary, was your love so steady,
that you had had His kids already?
Mary, Mary, at the Cross,
did it feel a gain or loss?
Mary, Mary – on that third day,
what was it like with the stone rolled away?
Mary, Mary, running there with love,
what did you think when He rose above?
Mary, Mary – what was it like, after?
Were there tears or joyful laughter?
Mary, Mary – the kids you had –
did they turn out like their Dad?
Mary, Mary, whore redeemed,
did it work out like you dreamed?
Mary, Mary – your afterlife –
was it mostly love, or mostly strife?
Mary, Mary, were you worshipped or despised
As Mary’s daughter-in-law, Mrs. Christ?
Mary, Mary, did you stay,
or feel you had to take the kids away?
Mary, Mary, with so much love,
did you, too, rise to heaven above?
Mary, Mary, in the sky,
all we ask are the reasons why…
Mary, Mary Magdalene,
What is really true? What does it really mean?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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To His Sleeping Mistress
Oh, fair sweet face! oh, eyes, celestial bright,
Twin stars in heaven, that now adorn the night!
Oh, fruitful lips, where cherries ever grow,
And damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow!
Oh, thou, from head to foot divinely fair!
Cupid's most cunning net's made of that hair;
And, as he weaves himself for curious eyes,
'Oh me, oh me, I'm caught myself!' he cries:
Sweet rest about thee, sweet and golden sleep,
Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep,
Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice,
To beauty sacred, and those angel eyes!
poem by John Fletcher
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A Day Dream
My eyes make pictures when they're shut:--
I see a fountain large and fair,
A Willow and a ruined Hut,
And thee, and me, and Mary there.
O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!
Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green Willow!
A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed,
And that and summer well agree
And lo! where Mary leans her head,
Two dear names carved upon the tree!
And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow:
Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.
'Twas Day! But now few, large, and bright
The stars are round the crescent moon!
And now it is a dark warm Night,
The balmiest of the month of June!
A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting
Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain.
O ever -- ever be thou blest!
For dearly, Asra! love I thee!
This brooding warmth across my breast,
This depth of tranquil bliss -- ah me!
Fount, Tree, and Shed are gone, I know not whither,
But in one quiet room we three are still together.
The shadows dance upon the wall,
By the still dancing fire-flames made;
And now they slumber, moveless all!
And now they melt to one deep shade!
But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee:
I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee!
Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play--
'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow!
But let me check this tender lay,
Which none may hear but she and thou!
Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming,
Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Motherhood
Mary,the Christ long slain,passed silently,
Following the children joyous astir
Under the cedrus and the olive tree,
Pausing to let their laughter float to her--
Each voice an echo of a voice more dear,
She saw a little Christ in every face.
Then came another woman gliding near
To watch the tender life which filled the place.
And Mary sought the woman's hand and spoke:
' I know thee not, yet know thy memory tossed
With all a thousand dreams their eyes evoke
Who bring to thee a child beloved and lost.
' I ,too, have rocked my Little One.
And He was fair !
Oh, fairer than the fairest sun
And , like its rays through amber spun,
His sun-bright hair.
Still I can see it shine and shine.'
Even so, the woman said, 'was mine.'
' His ways were ever darling ways'-
And Mary smiled -
So soft, so clinging ! Glad relays
Of love were all His precious days.
My Little Child !
My vanished star ! My music fled ! '
' Even so was mine,' the woman said.
And Mary whispered : Tell me, thou
Of thine.' And she :
' Oh, mine was rosy as a bough
Blooming with roses, sent, somehow,
To bloom for me !
His balmy fingers left a thrill
Deep in my breast that warms me still. '
Then she gazed down some wilder,darker hour,
And said -when Mary questioned, not knowing :
Who art thou, mother of so sweet a flower?'--
' I am the mother of Iscariot.'
poem by Eleanor Agnes Lee
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A Christmas Carol
THREE DAMSELS in the queen’s chamber,
The queen’s mouth was most fair;
She spake a word of God’s mother
As the combs went in her hair.
Mary that is of might,
Bring us to thy Son’s sight.
They held the gold combs out from her,
A span’s length off her head;
She sang this song of God’s mother
And of her bearing-bed.
Mary most full of grace,
Bring us to thy Son’s face.
When she sat at Joseph’s hand,
She looked against her side;
And either way from the short silk band
Her girdle was all wried.
Mary that all good may,
Bring us to thy Son’s way.
Mary had three women for her bed,
The twain were maidens clean;
The first of them had white and red,
The third had riven green.
Mary that is so sweet,
Bring us to thy Son’s feet.
She had three women for her hair,
Two were gloved soft and shod;
The third had feet and fingers bare,
She was the likest God.
Mary that wieldeth land,
Bring us to thy Son’s hand.
She had three women for her ease,
The twain were good women:
The first two were the two Maries,
The third was Magdalen.
Mary that perfect is,
Bring us to thy Son’s kiss.
Joseph had three workmen in his stall,
To serve him well upon;
The first of them were Peter and Paul,
The third of them was John.
Mary, God’s handmaiden,
Bring us to thy Son’s ken.
“If your child be none other man’s,
But if it be very mine,
The bedstead shall be gold two spans,
The bedfoot silver fine.”
Mary that made God mirth,
Bring us to thy Son’s birth.
“If the child be some other man’s,
And if it be none of mine,
The manger shall be straw two spans,
Betwixen kine and kine.”
Mary that made sin cease,
Bring us to thy Son’s peace.
Christ was born upon this wise,
It fell on such a night,
Neither with sounds of psalteries,
Nor with fire for light.
Mary that is God’s spouse,
Bring us to thy Son’s house.
The star came out upon the east
With a great sound and sweet:
Kings gave gold to make him feast
And myrrh for him to eat.
Mary, of thy sweet mood,
Bring us to thy Son’s good.
He had two handmaids at his head,
One handmaid at his feet;
The twain of them were fair and red,
The third one was right sweet.
Mary that is most wise,
Bring us to thy Son’s eyes. Amen.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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William Bond
I wonder whether the Girls are mad
And I wonder whether they mean to kill
And I wonder if William Bond will die
For assuredly he is very ill
He went to Church in a May morning
Attended by Fairies one two and three
But the Angels Of Providence drove them away
And he returnd home in Misery
He went not out to the Field nor Fold
He went not out to the Village nor Town
But he came home in a black black cloud
And took to his Bed and there lay down
And an Angel of Providence at his Feet
And an Angel of Providence at his Head
And in the midst a Black Black Cloud
And in the midst the Sick Man on his Bed
And on his Right hand was Mary Green
And on his Left hand was his Sister Jane
And their tears fell thro the black black Cloud
To drive away the sick mans pain
O William if thou dost another Love
Dost another Love better than poor Mary
Go and take that other to be thy Wife
And Mary Green shall her Servant be
Yes Mary I do another Love
Another I Love far better than thee
And Another I will have for my Wife
Then what have I to do with thee
For thou art Melancholy Pale
And on thy Head is the cold Moons shine
But she is ruddy and bright as day
And the sun beams dazzle from her eyne
Mary trembled and Mary chilld
And Mary fell down on the right hand floor
That William Bond and his Sister Jane
Scarce could recover Mary more
When Mary woke and found her Laid
On the Right hand of her William dear
On the Right hand of his loved Bed
And saw her William Bond so near
The Fairies that fled from William Bond
Danced around her Shining Head
They danced over the Pillow white
And the Angels of Providence left the Bed
I thought Love livd in the hot sun Shine
But O he lives in the Moony light
I thought to find Love in the heat of day
But sweet Love is the Comforter of Night
Seek Love in the Pity of others Woe
In the gentle relief of anothers care
In the darkness of night and the winters snow
In the naked and outcast Seek Love there
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bonny Mary O!
The morning opens fine, bonny Mary O!
The robin sings his song by the dairy O!
Where the little Jenny wrens cock their tails among the hens,
Singing morning's happy songs with Mary O!
The swallow's on the wing, bonny Mary O!
Where the rushes fringe the spring, bonny Mary O!
Where the cowslips do unfold, shaking tassels all of gold,
Which make the milk so sweet, bonny Mary O!
There's the yellowhammer's nest, bonny Mary O!
Where she hides her golden breast, bonny Mary O!
On her mystic eggs she dwells, with strange writing on their shells,
Hid in the mossy grass, bonny Mary O!
There the spotted cow gets food, bonny Mary O!
And chews her peaceful cud, bonny Mary O!
In the mole-hills and the bushes, and the clear brook fringed with rushes
To fill the evening pail, bonny Mary O!
The cowpond once agen, bonny Mary O!
Lies dimpled like thy sen, bonny Mary O!
Where the gnat swarms fall and rise under evening's mellow skies,
And on flags sleep dragon flies, bonny Mary O!
And I will meet thee there, bonny Mary O!
When a-milking you repair, bonny Mary O!
And I'll kiss thee on the grass, my buxom, bonny lass,
And be thine own for aye, bonny Mary O!
poem by John Clare
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Feast Of The Assumption
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set; the day is dead:
Thy Feast has fled;
My eyes are wet with tears unshed;
I bow my head;
Where the star-fringed shadows softly sway
I bend my knee,
And, like a homesick child, I pray,
Mary, to thee.
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And, all the day -- since white-robed priest
In farthest East,
In dawn's first ray -- began the Feast,
I -- I the least --
Thy least, and last, and lowest child,
I called on thee!
Virgin! didst hear? my words were wild;
Didst think of me?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Alas! and no! The angels bright,
With wings as white
As a dream of snow in love and light,
Flashed on thy sight;
They shone like stars around thee, Queen!
I knelt afar --
A shadow only dims the scene
Where shines a star!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And all day long, beyond the sky,
Sweet, pure, and high,
The angel's song swept sounding by
Triumphantly;
And when such music filled thy ear,
Rose round thy throne,
How could I hope that thou wouldst hear
My far, faint moan?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And all day long, where altars stand,
Or poor or grand,
A countless throng from every land,
With lifted hand,
Winged hymns to thee from sorrow's vale
In glad acclaim;
How couldst thou hear my lone lips wail
Thy sweet, pure name?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Alas! and no! Thou didst not hear
Nor bend thy ear,
To prayer of woe as mine so drear;
For hearts more dear
Hid me from hearing and from sight
This bright Feast-day;
Wilt hear me, Mother, if in its night
I kneel and pray?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set, the day is dead;
Thy Feast hath fled;
My eyes are wet with the tears I shed;
I bow my head;
Angels and altars hailed thee, Queen,
All day; ah! be
To-night what thou hast ever been --
A mother to me!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Thy queenly crown in angels' sight
Is fair and bright;
Ah! lay it down; for, oh! to-night
Its jeweled light
Shines not as the tender love-light shines,
O Mary! mild,
In the mother's eyes, whose pure heart pines
For poor, lost child!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Sceptre in hand, thou dost hold sway
Fore'er and aye
In angel-land; but, fair Queen! pray
Lay it away.
Let thy sceptre wave in the realms above
Where angels are;
But, Mother! fold in thine arms of love
Thy child afar!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Mary, I call! Wilt hear the prayer
My poor lips dare?
Yea! be to all a Queen most fair,
Crown, sceptre, bear!
But look on me with a mother's eyes
From heaven's bliss;
And waft to me from the starry skies
A mother's kiss!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set; the day is dead;
Her Feast has fled;
Can she forget the sweet blood shed,
The last words said
That evening -- 'Woman! behold thy Son!
Oh! priceless right,
Of all His children! The last, least one,
Is heard to-night.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song (Here's a health to thee, Mary...)
Here's a health to thee, Mary,
Here's a health to thee;
The drinkers are gone,
And I am alone,
To think of home and thee, Mary.
There are some who may shine o'er thee, Mary,
And many as frank and free,
And a few as fair,
But the summer air
Is not more sweet to me, Mary.
I have thought of thy last low sigh, Mary,
And thy dimm'd and gentle eye;
And I've called on thy name
When the night winds came,
And heard my heart reply, Mary.
Be thou but true to me, Mary,
Аnd I'll be true to thee;
Аnd at set of sun,
When my task is done,
Вe sure that I'm ever with thee, Mary.
poem by Barry Cornwall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary’s Wedding
February 25th, 1851.
YOU are to be married, Mary;
This hour as I wakeful lie
In the dreamy dawn of the morning,
Your wedding hour draws nigh;
Miles off, you are rising, dressing,
Your bridemaidens gay among,
In the same old house we played in,--
You and I, when we were young.
Your bridemaids--they were our playmates:
Those known rooms, every wall,
Could speak of our childish frolics,
Loves, jealousies, great and small:
Do you mind how pansies changed we
And smiled at the word 'forget'?--
'T was a girl's romance: yet somehow
I have kept my pansy yet.
Do you mind our poems written
Together? our dreams of fame--
And of love--how we'd share all secrets
When that sweet mystery came?
It is no mystery now, Mary;
It was unveiled, year by year,
Till--this is your marriage morning;
And I rest quiet here.
I cannot call up your face, Mary,
The face of the bride to-day:
You have outgrown my knowledge,
The years have so slipped away.
I see but your girlish likeness,
Brown eyes and brown falling hair;--
God knows, I did love you dearly,
And was proud that you were fair.
Many speak my name, Mary,
While yours in home's silence lies:
The future I read in toil's guerdon,
You will read in your children's eyes:
The past--the same past with either--
Is to you a delightsome scene,
But I cannot trace it clearly
For the graves that rise between.
I am glad you are happy, Mary!
These tears, could you see them fall,
Would show, though you have forgotten,
I have remembered all.
And though my cup may be empty
While yours is all running o'er,
Heaven keep you its sweetness, Mary,
Brimming for evermore.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Cradle Song
Sweet dreams, form a shade
O’er my lovely infant’s head;
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy, silent, moony beams.
Sweet Sleep, with soft down
Weave thy brows an infant crown.
Sweet Sleep, Angel mild,
Hover o’er my happy child.
Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my delight;
Sweet smiles, mother’s smiles,
All the livelong night beguiles.
Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from thy eyes.
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
All the dovelike moans beguiles.
Sleep, sleep, happy child,
All creation slept and smil'd;
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o’er thee thy mother weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace.
Sweet babe, once like thee,
Thy Maker lay and wept for me,
Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When He was an infant small.
Thou His image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee
Smiles on thee, on me, on all;
Who became an infant small.
Infant smiles are His own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Birth-Night Song
The Child is rocked on Mary's knee,
Cold in the stall this bitter night,
And 'Lullalay-loo,' soft singeth she,
'My little Boy and Heaven's Delight!'
When singing stars went up the sky
The Prince of Peace oped a sweet eye.
His Highness now how small He lies!
He to be God and Very God!
A Jacob's ladder spans the skies
Whereof each rung is angel-trod,
And all their carols are of Peace,
Though the sick world hath little ease.
Come in, poor war-worn folk, and rest;
Kneel where the sinless creatures kneel;
The Babe snugged warm in Mother's breast,
He is your Wound-Wort, your All-Heal
Balsam for hurts that throb and smart,
Small Rose of Love on Mary's heart.
Shut close within His hand so small
The sick heart's medicine; not a sword.
Come in, come in, sad people all,
Here is your ancient peace restored!
'Lullalay-loo,' sings Mary mild,
Kissing her God, her Lamb, her Child.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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