Related quotes: Erewhile, before the world was...

Jadis

Erewhile, before the world was old,
When violets grew and celandine,
In Cupid's train we were enrolled:
Erewhile!
Your little hands were clasped in mine,
Your head all ruddy and sun-gold
Lay on my breast which was your shrine,
And all the tale of love was told:
Ah, God, that sweet things should decline,
And fires fade out which were not cold,
Erewhile.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Related quotes

To A Certain Civilian

DID YOU ask dulcet rhymes from me?
Did you seek the civilian's peaceful and languishing rhymes?
Did you find what I sang erewhile so hard to follow?
Why I was not singing erewhile for you to follow, to understand--nor
am I now;
(I have been born of the same as the war was born;
The drum-corps' harsh rattle is to me sweet music--I love well the
martial dirge,
With slow wail, and convulsive throb, leading the officer's funeral:)
--What to such as you, anyhow, such a poet as I?--therefore leave my
works,
And go lull yourself with what you can understand--and with piano-
tunes;
For I lull nobody--and you will never understand me. 10

poem by Walt Whitman
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To Mary Shelley

THE world is dreary,
And I'm weary
Of wandering on without thee, Mary;
A joy was erewhile
In thy voice and thy smile,
And 'tis gone, when I should be gone too, Mary.

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Persistency of Poetry

Though the Muse be gone away,
Though she move not earth to-day,
Souls, erewhile who caught her word,
Ah! still harp on what they heard.

poem by Matthew Arnold (1867)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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All In My Hands I Hold

All in my hands I hold
Money, silver, Jewell, and gold
All those things that man can love
I still have more though some I sold

All in my hands I hold
Brackets and jackets to drive all the cold
To keep me warm and act like a stove
That when you talk all I do is to nod

All in my hands I hold
All great names in the world I'm called
Angels can know who I am from above
And tell my deeds to the might lord

All in my hands I hold
Stories I made but some I was told
Tales still fly in my head like a dove
And some still hang in my brain they're stored

All in my hands I hold
Everything in the world to you I showed
All have
But still I'm bored.

poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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Love Train

People all over the world
Join hands
Start a love train, love train
People all over the world
Join hands
Get on the love train, love train
The first stop that well make
Will be england
Tell all the folks in russia,
In china, too (get on board)
Dont you know
Its time to get on board
(its time to get on board)
Let this train keep on ridin,
Ridin on through
Ridin on through
People all over the world
Join hands
Start a love train, love train
People all over the world
Join hands
Get on the love train, love train
All of you brothers
Over in africa (come on now, people)
Tell all the folks in egypt,
In israel, too
Please dont miss this train
At the station
cause if you miss it,
I feel sorry, sorry for you
Sorry for you
People all over the world
Join hands
Start a love train, love train
People all over the world
Join hands
Get on the love train, love train
People all over the world
Join hands
Start a love train, love train
People all over the world
Join hands
Get on the love train, love train
People all over the world
(repeat with following ad lib)
Start it up, start it up
Come on, people
Were gonna ride, ride
Sisters and brothers, come on
Start a love train
(repeat and fade with ad lib)

song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Train Of Gold

I saw her there from across the street, she was dressed in black
And when she moved she moved to a beat, like a cadillac
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
She was a woman of suspicious ways, never saw daylight
And in her room she sat and passed the days
And shed creep out at night
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Chorus: train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Looked through a window saw a velvet sky, a shade of green
A violin was playing soft and sweet, like it was a dream
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Train of gold, train of gold
I dont believe her, it just couldnt be her
I cant get it out of my mind

song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do I Love?

Why do I love?
Is it for men to choose
The hour of the hushed night when crowned with dews
From its sea grave the morning star shall wake?
Lo, while we drowsed, it rose on our heart's ache,
And all our heaven was red with the day's hues,
And glad birds chaunted from the trees above.
So was it with my heart that might not choose
But woke to love.

Why do I love?
The aureole of lost days
Is on thy brow and unforgotten face;
Faith's guiding light, the same which of old time
Sent men on knightly quests to deeds sublime
And the high prize which was their lady's grace.
Thither I follow, careless what shall prove,
So only at thy knees a little space
I too may love.

Why do I love?
The paths of life are steep,
And dark the issues and the gulfs how deep!
This wayside shrine invites my knees to kneel.
Thou, dearest Saint, in witness of my zeal
Biddest me walk in joy who only weep,
And fare forth comforted who vainly strove.
See how my steps in thy sweet service leap!
See how I love!

Why do I love?
There is a dream that stirs
My soul to its last depth of lost desires,
Music of waters in a thirsty land,
A step, a touch, the lingering of a hand,
Fingers that are the soft Spring's messengers,
And lips that to my kisses part and move
With passionate words which yet--how strange!--are hers,
Pleading for love.

Why do I love?
If one had told me this,
When I erewhile in the world's wilderness
Wandered uncertain or of Heaven or Hell,
How had I laughed as at a time--worn tale!
To--day, behold. I too speak prophecies,
And hang my votive garland in the grove,
And supplicate my god, and kneel and kiss
Her feet for love.

Why do I love?
Ah, love, I will not make
A longer reasoning even for thy sake;
Be it enough that I am pleasure's thrall.
Tell me thy will, in song or madrigal
Or word unspoken. Bid me bend or break,
And brave all wraths of Earth or Heaven above,
But not thy wrath. Ah! bid me not awake.
Bid me still love.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Silver, Blue & Gold

In the beginning,
I believed every word that you said
Now that you're gone,
My world is in shreads
Oh you loved me, and left me,
You took all the things that I needed so bad
I'm standin' here wonderin'
Where is the love that I had
Oh,
Give me silver, blue and gold
The color of the sky I'm told
My rai, ai, ainbow
Is overdue
In the beginning,
There was something of love that was mine
Now that it's gone,
Whoa I'm cryin'
Oh the time that it takes,
For your love to grow cold is a wonder to me
I'm walkin' around,
With my head hangin' down
Tell me where is she
ooh....
Give me silver, blue & gold
The color of the sky I'm told
My rai, ai, ainbow
Is overdue...
Don't forsake me cuz I love you
Don't forsake me cuz I love you
Give me silver, blue & gold
The color of the sky I'm told
My rai, ai, ainbow
Is overdue.......
Give me silver, blue & gold
The color of the sky I'm told
My rai, ai, ainbow
Is overdue.....
oooooh.....
Now give me silver, blue & gold
The color of the sky I'm told
My rai, ai, ainbow
Is overdue........
Yeah...
Oh don't forsake me cuz I love you
Don't forsake me cuz I love you
Yeah.

song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Coronal

WITH HIS SONGS AND HER DAYS TO HIS LADY AND TO LOVE

Violets and leaves of vine,
Into a frail, fair wreath
We gather and entwine:
A wreath for Love to wear,
Fragrant as his own breath,
To crown his brow divine,
All day till night is near.
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.

Violets and leaves of vine
For Love that lives a day,
We gather and entwine.
All day till Love is dead,
Till eve falls, cold and gray,
These blossoms, yours and mine,
Love wears upon his head,
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.

Violets and leaves of vine,
For Love when poor Love dies
We gather and entwine.
This wreath that lives a day
Over his pale, cold eyes,
Kissed shut by Proserpine,
At set of sun we lay:
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Lipstick On Your Collar

When you left me all alone at the record hop
Told me you were goin out for a soda pop
You were gone for quite a while -- half-an-hour more
You came back and man, oh, man, this is what I saw:
Lipstick on your collar told a tale on you
Lipstick on your collar said you were untrue
Bet your bottom dollar you and I are through
cause lipstick on your collar told a tale on you! yeah!
You said it belonged to me, made me stop and think
And then I noticed yours was red; mine was baby pink
Who walked in but mary jane, lipstick all a mess?
Were you smoochin my best friend? guess the answers yes
Lipstick on your collar told a tale on you
Lipstick on your collar said you were untrue
Bet your bottom dollar you and I are through
cause lipstick on your collar told a tale on you! boy!
Told a tale on you! man!
Told a tale on you! yeah! (fade)

song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On First Entering Westminster Abbey

Thabor of England! since my light is short
And faint, O rather by the sun anew
Of timeless passion set my dial true,
That with thy saints and thee I may consort,
And wafted in the calm Chaucerian port
Of poets, seem a little sail long due,
And be as one the call of memory drew
Unto the saddle void since Agincourt!

Not now for secular love's unquiet lease
Receive my soul, who rapt in thee erewhile
Hath broken tryst with transitory things;
But seal with her a marriage and a peace
Eternal, on thine Edward's holy isle,
Above the stormy sea of ending kings.

poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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To Sylvia

"O love, lean thou thy cheek to mine,
And let the tears together flow"--
Such was the song you sang to me
Once, long ago.

Such was the song you sang; and yet
(O be not wroth!) I scarcely knew
What sounds flow'd forth; I only felt
That you were you.

I scarcely knew your hair was gold,
Nor of the heavens' own blue your eyes.
Sylvia and song, divinely mixt,
Made Paradise.

These things I scarcely knew; to-day,
When love is lost and hope is fled,
The song you sang so long ago
Rings in my head.

Clear comes each note and true; to-day,
As in a picture I behold
Your tur'd-up chin, and small, sweet head
Misty with gold.

I see how your dear eyes grew deep,
How your lithe body thrilled and swayed,
And how were whiter than the keys
Your hands that played. . .

Ah, sweetest! cruel have you been,
And robbed my life of many things.
I will not chide; ere this I knew
That Love had wings.

You've robbed my life of many things--
Of love and hope, of fame and pow'r.
So be it, sweet. You cannot steal
One golden hour.

poem by Amy Levy
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A Domestic Tragedy

Clorinda met me on the way
As I came from the train;
Her face was anything but gay,
In fact, suggested pain.
"Oh hubby, hubby dear!" she cried,
"I've awful news to tell. . . ."
"What is it, darling?" I replied;
"Your mother -- is she well?"

"Oh no! oh no! it is not that,
It's something else," she wailed,
My heart was beating pit-a-pat,
My ruddy visage paled.
Like lightning flash in heaven's dome
The fear within me woke:
"Don't say," I cried, "our little home
Has all gone up in smoke!"

She shook her head. Oh, swift I clasped
And held her to my breast;
"The children! Tell me quick," I gasped,
"Believe me, it is best."
Then, then she spoke; 'mid sobs I caught
These words of woe divine:
"It's coo-coo-cook has gone and bought
A new hat just like mine."

poem by Robert William Service
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Violets

Violets, shy violets!
How many hearts with you compare!
Who hide themselves in thickest green,
And thence, unseen,
Ravish the enraptured air
With sweetness, dewy fresh and rare!

Violets, shy violets!
Human hearts to me shall be
Viewless violets in the grass,
And as I pass,
Odours and sweet imagery
Will wait on mine and gladden me!

poem by George Meredith
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A Garden, Written after the Civil Wars

SEE how the flowers, as at parade,
Under their colours stand display'd:
Each regiment in order grows,
That of the tulip, pink, and rose.
But when the vigilant patrol
Of stars walks round about the pole,
Their leaves, that to the stalks are curl'd,
Seem to their staves the ensigns furl'd.
Then in some flower's beloved hut
Each bee, as sentinel, is shut,
And sleeps so too; but if once stirr'd,
She runs you through, nor asks the word.
O thou, that dear and happy Isle,
The garden of the world erewhile,
Thou Paradise of the four seas
Which Heaven planted us to please,
But, to exclude the world, did guard
With wat'ry if not flaming sword;
What luckless apple did we taste
To make us mortal and thee waste!
Unhappy! shall we never more
That sweet militia restore,
When gardens only had their towers,
And all the garrisons were flowers;
When roses only arms might bear,
And men did rosy garlands wear?

poem by Andrew Marvell
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Matrimony

There is an awe in mortals' joy,
A deep mysterious fear
Half of the heart will still employ,
As if we drew too near
To Eden's portal, and those fires
That bicker round in wavy spires,
Forbidding, to our frail desires,
What cost us once so dear.

We cower before th' heart-searching eye
In rapture as its pain;
E'en wedded Love, till Thou be nigh,
Dares not believe her gain:
Then in the air she fearless springs,
The breath of Heaven beneath her wings,
And leaves her woodnote wild, and sings
A tuned and measured strain.

Ill fare the lay, though soft as dew
And free as air it fall,
That, with Thine altar full in view,
Thy votaries would enthrall
To a foul dream, of heathen night,
Lifting her torch in Love's despite,
And scaring with base wild-fire light
The sacred nuptial hall.

Far other strains, far other fires,
Our marriage-offering grace;
Welcome, all chaste and kind desires,
With even matron pace
Approaching down this hallowed aisle!
Where should ye seek Love's perfect smile,
But where your prayers were learned erewhile,
In her own native place?

Where, but on His benignest brow,
Who waits to bless you here?
Living, he owned no nuptial vow,
No bower to Fancy dear:
Love's very self--for Him no need
To nurse, on earth, the heavenly seed:
Yet comfort in His eye we read
For bridal joy and fear.

'Tis He who clasps the marriage band,
And fits the spousal ring,
Then leaves ye kneeling, hand in hand,
Out of His stores to bring
His Father's dearest blessing, shed
Of old on Isaac's nuptial bed,
Now on the board before ye spread
Of our all-bounteous King.

All blessings of the breast and womb,
Of Heaven and earth beneath,
Of converse high, and sacred home,
Are yours, in life and death.
Only kneel on, nor turn away
From the pure shrine, where Christ to-day
Will store each flower, ye duteous lay,
For an eternal wreath.

poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Landskip

How pleas'd within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?

How sweetly smil'd the hill, the vale,
And all the landskip round!
The river gliding down the dale!
The hill with beeches crown'd!

But now, when urg'd by tender woes,
I speed to meet my dear,
That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.

No more, since Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I see:
That verdant hill, and silver stream,
Divide my love and me.

poem by William Shenstone
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXI

Yes, Italy is wise, a cultured prude,
Stored with all maxims of a statelier age;
These are her lessons for our northern blood,
With its dark Saxon madness and Norse rage.
With these she tempers us and renders sage,
As long ago she stayed the barbarous flood
Surging against her, and her heritage
Snatched from the feet of that brute multitude.
Calmly she waits us. What to her shall be
Our fevers of to--day, who erewhile knew
Caesar's ambitions? What our pruriency,
Who saw Rome sacked by the lewd Vandal crew?
What our despair, who, while a world stood mute,
Saw Henry kneel in tears at Peter's foot?

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Song II. The Landscape

How pleased within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?

How sweetly smiled the hill, the vale,
And all the landscape round!
The river gliding down the dale,
The hill with beeches crown'd!

But now, when urged by tender woes,
I speed to meet my dear,
That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.

No more, since Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I see;
That verdant hill and silver stream,
Divide my love and me.