Dedication To Wilfred And Alice Meynell
If the rose in meek duty
May dedicate humbly
To her grower the beauty
Wherewith she is comely;
If the mine to the miner
The jewels that pined in it,
Earth to diviner
The springs he divined in it;
To the grapes the wine-pitcher
Their juice that was crushed in it,
Viol to its witcher
The music lay hushed in it;
If the lips may pay Gladness
In laughters she wakened,
And the heart to its sadness
Weeping unslakened,
If the hid and sealed coffer,
Whose having not his is,
To the loosers may proffer
Their finding--here this is;
Their lives if all livers
To the Life of all living, -
To you, O dear givers!
I give your own giving.
poem by Francis Thompson
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Related quotes
A Girl's Song
The Meuse and Marne have little waves;
The slender poplars o'er them lean.
One day they will forget the graves
That give the grass its living green.
Some brown French girl the rose will wear
That springs above his comely head;
Will twine it in her russet hair,
Nor wonder why it is so red.
His blood is in the rose's veins,
His hair is in the yellow corn.
My grief is in the weeping rains
And in the keening wind forlorn.
Flow softly, softly, Marne and Meuse;
Tread lightly all ye browsing sheep;
Fall tenderly, O silver dews,
For here my dear Love lies asleep.
The earth is on his sealèd eyes,
The beauty marred that was my pride;
Would I were lying where he lies,
And sleeping sweetly by his side!
The Spring will come by Meuse and Marne,
The birds be blithesome in the tree.
I heap the stones to make his cairn
Where many sleep as sound as he.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Wine Story
An Abridged Story of Wine
The bottom of the nave used to be a lake's bed, but one night,
when moon was white as search light and the sky maroon,
the lake vanished. Dead fish and toenail clippings at the bottom,
but the soil was rich, and the people who used to fish for a living,
planted vine which bore healthy grapes, but grapes fermented
and wine was discovered. A drink that made them merry, they
sang, slapped flat stones together and made music.
But if drinking too much they ended fighting and used stones as
missiles, and given to arguing about the quality of snow that fell
the year before. In clay pots they sold red wine and became rich,
till Moslems came, forbad the making of wine, they planted pale
yellow orange trees instead. But the juice of sweet blue grapes
has an unstoppable allure it fills heart with music, the production
was moved to hidden dells in Alentejo. When Arabs, defeated by
Christian hordes, fled; Iberia had abundance of red wine but also
sugary orange juice.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I Dedicate This Rose ll
I dedicate this rose
to the one I love
to my companion in arms
to my pretty dove
i dedicate this rose
to the one I care for
to the one who's been there
within my hearts core
I dedicate this rose
to someone sincere
elegant and honest
and in my heart, very dear
I dedicate this rose
to my girl with sweetness
to the person of my dreams
to my beautiful princess.
(Charlie vergara/09.24.2009/1778)
poem by White Tiger
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Philomela
The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth
Unto her rested sense a perfect waking,
While late-bare Earth, proud of new clothing, springeth,
Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making;
And mournfully bewailing,
Her throat in tunes expresseth
What grief her breast oppresseth,
For Tereus' force on her chaste will prevailing.
O Philomela fair, O take some gladness
That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness!
Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;
Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.
Alas! she hath no other cause of anguish
But Tereus' love, on her by strong hand wroken;
Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish,
Full womanlike complains her will was broken
But I, who, daily craving,
Cannot have to content me,
Have more cause to lament me,
Since wanting is more woe than too much having.
O Philomela fair, O take some gladness
That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness!
Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;
Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Have I Told You Lately
(van morrison)
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you theres no one else above you
Fill my heart with gladness
Take away all my sadness
Ease my troubles thats what you do
For the morning sun in all its glory
Greets the day with hope and comfort too
You fill my life with laughter
And somehow you make it better
Ease my troubles thats what you do
Theres a love thats divine
And its yours and its mine like the sun
And at the end of the day
We should give thanks and pray
To the one, to the one
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you theres no one else above you
Fill my heart with gladness
Take away all my sadness
Ease my troubles thats what you do
Theres a love thats divine
And its yours and its mine like the sun
And at the end of the day
We should give thanks and pray
To the one, to the one
And have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you theres no one else above you
You fill my heart with gladness
Take away my sadness
Ease my troubles thats what you do
Take away all my sadness
Fill my life with gladness
Ease my troubles thats what you do
Take away all my sadness
Fill my life with gladness
Ease my troubles thats what you do
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have I Told You Lately
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you theres no one above you
Fill my heart with gladness
Take away my sadness
Ease my troubles, thats what you do
Oh the morning sun in all its glory
Greets the day with hope and comfort too
And you fill my life with laughter
You can make it better
Ease my troubles thats what you do
Theres a love thats divine
And its yours and its mine
Like the sun at the end of the day
We should give thanks and pray to the one
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you theres no one above you
Fill my heart with gladness
Take away my sadness
Ease my troubles, thats what you do
Theres a love thats divine
And its yours and its mine
And it shines like the sun
At the end of the day we will give thanks
And pray to the one
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you theres no one above you
Fill my heart with gladness
Take away my sadness
Ease my troubles, thats what you do
Take away my sadness
Fill my life with gladness
Ease my troubles thats what you do
Fill my life with gladness
Take away my sadness
Ease my troubles thats what you do.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have I Told You Lately (Studio Version Remix)
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you there's no one else above you
Fill my heart with gladness
take away all my sadness
ease my troubles that's what you do
For the morning sun in all it's glory
greets the day with hope and comfort too
You fill my life with laughter
and somehow you make it better
ease my troubles that's what you do
There's a love that's divine
and it's yours and it's mine like the sun
And at the end of the day
we should give thanks and pray
to the one, to the one
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you there's no one else above you
Fill my heart with gladness
take away all my sadness
ease my troubles that's what you do
There's a love that's divine
and it's yours and it's mine like the sun
And at the end of the day
we should give thanks and pray
to the one, to the one
And have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you there's no one else above you
You fill my heart with gladness
take away my sadness
ease my troubles that's what you do
Take away all my sadness
fill my life with gladness
ease my troubles that's what you do
Take away all my sadness
fill my life with gladness
ease my troubles that's what you do
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Thoughts To-Night
I sit by the fire musing,
With sad and downcast eye,
And my laden breast gives utt’rance
To many a weary sigh;
Hushed is each worldly feeling,
Dimmed is each day-dream bright—
O heavy heart, can’st tell me
Why I’m so sad to-night?
’Tis not that I mourn the freshness
Of youth fore’er gone by—
Its life with pulse high springing,
Its cloudless, radiant eye—
Finding bliss in every sunbeam,
Delight in every part,
Well springs of purest pleasure
In its high ardent heart.
Nor yet is it for those dear ones
Who’ve passed from earth away
That I grieve—in spirit kneeling
Above their beds of clay;
O, no! while my glance upraising
To yon calm shining sky,
My pale lips, quivering, murmur,
“They are happier than I!”
But, alas! my spirit mourns
As, weary, it looks back—
Finding naught of good or holy
On life’s past barren track—
I mourn for the countless errors
That on mem’ry’s page crowd on,
And sorrow for lost chances
Of good I might have done.
But, courage! I must arouse me,
The day is not yet o’er,
And I still may make atonement
Ere leaving life’s last shore:
One act of meek oblation,
A tear of penance bright,
Will be counted as rare treasures
In heaven’s loving sight.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Plighted
Mine to the core of the heart, my beauty!
Mine, all mine, and for love, not duty:
Love given willingly, full and free,
Love for love's sake, - as mine to thee.
Duty's a slave that keeps the keys,
But Love, the master, goes in and out
Of his goodly chambers with song and shout,
Just as he please, - just as he please.
Mine, from the dear head's crown, brown-golden,
To the silken foot that's scarce beholden;
Give to a few friends hand or smile,
Like a generous lady, now and awhile,
But the sanctuary heart, that none dare win,
Keep holiest of holiest evermore;
The crowd in the aisles may watch the door,
The high-priest only enters in.
Mine, my own, without doubts or terrors,
With all thy goodnesses, all thy errors,
Unto me and to me alone revealed,
'A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.'
Many may praise thee, - praise mine as thine,
Many may love thee, - I'll love them too;
But thy heart of hearts, pure, faithful, and true,
Must be mine, mine wholly, and only mine.
Mine! - God, I thank Thee that Thou hast given
Something all mine on this side heaven:
Something as much myself to be
As this my soul which I lift to Thee:
Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone,
Life of my life, whom Thou dost make
Two to the world for the world's work's sake, -
But each unto each, as in Thy sight, one.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Mother Exultant
Joy! Joy! Joy!
The hills are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
And my feet dance to the time of it;
Oh, little son, carried light on my shoulder,
Let us go laughing and dancing through the live days,
For this is the hour of the vintage,
When man gathereth for himself the fruits of the vineyard.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes are translucent and ripe,
They are heavy and fragrant with juice
They wait for the hands of the vintagers;
For a long time the grapes were not,
And were in the womb of the earth,
Then out of the heavens came the rain,
The sun sent down his warmth from the sky,
At the touch of life, life stirred,
And the earth brought forth her fruits in due season.
I was a maid and alone,
When, behold, there came to me a vision;
My heart cried out within me,
And the voice was the voice of God.
Yea, a virgin I dreamed of love,
And was troubled and sore afraid,
I wept and was glad,
For the word of my heart named me blesse'd,
My soul exhalted the might of creation.
I was a maid and alone,
When, behold, my lover came to me,
My belove'd held me in his arms.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
Now is the vision fulfilled;
I have conceived,
I have carried in my womb,
I have brought forth
The life of the world;
Out of my joy and my pain,
Out of the fulness of my living
Hath my son gained his life.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes are ripe for gathering;
The fresh, deep earth is in them,
And clean water from the clouds.
And golden, golden sun is in the heart of the grapes.
Look, little son, look:
The earth, your mother,
And the touch of life who is your father,
They have provided food for you
That you also may live.
The vineyards are planted on the hillside,
They are the vineyards of my belove'd,
He chose a favorable spot,
His hands prepared the soil for the planting;
He set out the young vines
And cared for them till the time of their bearing.
Nopw is his labour fulfilled who worked with God.
The fruit of the vineyard is ripe,
The vintagers laugh in the sun,
They sing while they gather the grapes,
For the vintage is a good one,
The wine vats are pressed down and running over.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
Now is the wonder accomplished;
Out of the heat of the living grape
Hath the hand of my belove'd
Wrung the wine of the dream of life.
Belove'd,
My little son's father,
Together we have given life,
And the vision of life;
Shall we not rejoice
Who have made eternal
The days of our living.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes glow with rich juice;
The juice of the grape hath in it
The substance of the earth,
And the air's breath;
It hath in it the soul of the vintage.
Put forth your hand, little son,
And take for yourself the life
That your father and your mother
Have provided for you.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
The halls are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
And my feet dance to the time of it;
Oh, little son, carried light on my shoulder,
Let us go laughing and dancing through the live days,
For this is the hour of vintage,
When man gathereth for himself the fruits of the vineyard.
1905
poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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Stay With Me (o' Dear Heart Of Mine)
stay with me
o' dear heart
live with me
my soulheart
come with me
sit with me
talk with me
sing with me
dream with me
o' dear heart of mine
kneel with me
feel with me
smile a joy with me
pain a tear with me
frown with me
but come with me
and stay with thee
dance with me
chance with me
cleanse my heart
and stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
plan with me
journey with me
run with me
walk with me
o' dear heart of mine
brand with me
trend with me
trek with me
pray with me
thirst with me
quench with me
o' dear heart of mine
deal with me
seal with me
not steal with me
but steel with me
care with me
tenderly, humbly
o' dear heart of mine
friend with me
blend with me
mend with me
bend with me
nod with me
unto lord with me
come on board with me
o' dear heart of mine
fear not with me
as far as i see
a life to be
with you and me
o' dear heart of mine
corn with me
form with me
shape with me
tape with me
face with me
race with me
sense with me
nurse with me
o' dear heart of mine
nap with me
not a trap with me
this time
o' dear soul of mine
proud is me
rock with me
my heart
o' dear heart
of mine
map with me
wap with me
come with me
alone with me
stare with me
not to sick me
nor seek me
but stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
cross with me
boss with me
sail with me
rail with me
if i cry
cry with me
when i die
die with me
o' dear heart of mine
cold with me
fold with thee
rainbow with me
shine with me
rise with me
fall with me
stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
share
and care
with thee
o' dear heart of thine
**stay with me o' dear heart of mine** january 2012 ebook
(r) opn
(c) 09.01.2012
2159hrs
***ntema's unique poetry (nup)
(p) all rights of this piece are those of the poet.
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Eyes Lassos, Too, Are Strained…
The sinful night melts in the sky,
Force bears a deep passion,
Juice is got by squeezing grapes;
Such fall causes ascension.
Then the juice turns into wine,
Into the wine – the source of passion,
And in the end, that very force
Creates love and affection.
Later, hunted by that intrigue,
The willful heirs are brought to birth,
And eyes lassos, too, are strained…
They, too, stand firmly on the earth…
24.12.2OO2.
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Beauty Of Love!
Beauty reflects in the behaviour and performance;
Beauty lives in loving care, kind words, gentle act;
Outward love is the index of inner beauty of soul!
Beauty thrives on art, music and poetry forever;
Natural beauty reflects the beauty of God ever;
Beautiful music reflects voice of God beautiful!
Beauty, music and love are where heaven exists
Making life ever enjoyable to live on the Earth with
Colourful Sky, birds and flowers as back ground!
Morning Sunrise with birds singing to wake one
The day begins with beauty and joy to see again
Beautiful happenings of day's work to satisfaction!
Evening Moon-rise preceding Stars in the night Sky
Twinkling as diamond jewels is beauty eternal to peace!
poem by Ramesh T A
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No One Else
My friend, no one else will do for you, what The Son of God will do,
When you let Jesus into your life, and you give your heart to Christ.
For no one else has ever done, anything comparable to God’s Son,
Leaving His Throne in eternity, in Love, to come and save humanity.
First He shall save you from all sin, when you simply believe in Him,
And trust the finished work of Christ, when He became our sacrifice.
Then after He died in our stead, Christ rose in victory from the dead,
Giving a real hope for all of those, who truly believe The Savior rose.
Christ gives to us New Life on earth, in The Spirit, through New Birth,
A new life, to live life differently, as we now look forward to Eternity.
Not only are we spiritually healed, but by God’s Spirit we are sealed,
Sealed until the Day of Redemption, by our Lord with no exemption.
Sealed by Christ is our destination, as we come to Him for salvation,
Securing for us a place in Paradise, in a mansion prepared by Christ.
With Christ coming to this sod, He wrought peace with man and God,
God’s condemnation we won’t see, since Christ died for you and me.
No one else has come from above, from Heaven to this earth in love,
Leaving a Glorious Eternal Throne, to redeem sinful man as His Own.
And no one else is coming again, to rapture all of those Born Again,
No one, but Jesus Christ our Lord, this, to live with Him forevermore.
(Copyright ©09/2007)
The Love in her eyes lay sleeping
The love in her eyes lay sleeping,
As stars that unconscious shine,
Till, under the pink lids peeping,
I wakened it up with mine;
And we pledged our troth to a brimming oath
In a bumper of blood-red wine.
Alas! too well I know
That it happened long ago;
Those memories yet remain,
And sting, like throbs of pain,
And I'm alone below,
But still the red wine warms, and the rosy goblets glow;
If love be the heart's enslaver,
'Tis wine that subdues the head.
But which has the fairest flavour,
And whose is the soonest shed?
Wine waxes in power in that desolate hour
When the glory of love is dead.
Love lives on beauty's ray,
But night comes after day,
And when the exhausted sun
His high career has run,
The stars behind him stay,
And then the light that lasts consoles our darkening way.
When beauty and love are over,
And passion has spent its rage,
And the spectres of memory hover,
And glare on life's lonely stage,
'Tis wine that remains to kindle the veins
And strengthen the steps of age.
Love takes the taint of years,
And beauty disappears,
But wine in worth matures
The longer it endures,
And more divinely cheers,
And ripens with the suns and mellows with the spheres.
poem by William Forster
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The Promise of the Morning Star
Thou father of the children of my brain
By thee engendered in my willing heart,
How can I thank thee for this gift of art
Poured out so lavishly, and not in vain.
What thou created never more can die,
Thy fructifying power lives in me
And I conceive, knowing it is by thee,
Dear other parent of my poetry!
For I was but a shadow with a name,
Perhaps by now the very name's forgot;
So strange is Fate that it has been my lot
To learn through thee the presence of that aim
Which evermore must guide me. All unknown,
By me unguessed, by thee not even dreamed,
A tree has blossomed in a night that seemed
Of stubborn, barren wood. For thou hast sown
This seed of beauty in a ground of truth.
Humbly I dedicate myself, and yet
I tremble with a sudden fear to set
New music ringing through my fading youth.
poem by Amy Lowell
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My Impassioned Offer
For many years, my dear beloved friend,
You and I have shared a mutual devotion
That does not seem to want for an end!
Its power may be felt across the largest ocean
And its glory streches further than the eye may see;
Naught may hope to contain this simple verity:
I love you and you love me-even as this may be,
You could not hope to have further clarity!
We are a divinely-inspired pairing, to be sure-
Brought into one another's lives with a purpose in mind;
Perhaps we never queried same, only welcomed its allure-
Yet, I shall now: 'Heavenly Father, far too kind
Art Thou to see to this consort, and all it has brought!
Much obliged and humbled are we, at Thine Grace;
Aid us only now, to make it to be what it ought-
Only in You, would we, this trust, emplace! '
As though a compelling love story, for want of a sequel,
Our history together plays over and over in my mind-
You are the love that my heart knows has not, an equal-
The beautificent memory I could never leave behind!
What happens next is entirely up to you;
Ask your heart; sikerly, it shall tell you what to do-
It possesses a truth that your mind may not,
Which may be too afeared to do as it ought!
Should your heart be the victor, in that battle fought,
You and I may, at long last, garner what we have sought-
Namely, one another, and all that we are-
I, the star gazer, and you, the shining star!
Consider this my impassioned offer, please do not refuse it;
I proffer a purposeful life and hope you choose it!
I know you love me, in fact, I know it well-
Together, we may fashion the story we lovingly tell:
A story of an ordinary man with an extraordinary capacity
To love, coupled with an equally persistent audacity
To treat you as the Princess that you have always been-
With you, the scene-stealer, who ensures I always win!
The pact betwixt your heart and mine
Is now on the the table, for you to sign;
You may not be prepared, you may be frightened,
Yet, I implore you still, to embrace my amorous offer-
Our love is divined and I have been enlightened,
It is for you alone, my heart foregoes its coffer!
Maurice Harris,9 July 2011
poem by Maurice Harris
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Prose to a Rose
Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind
poem by John A. Hancock
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My Valentine Date
Today my heart is red
Gentle as bread
Three roses colour red
Fragrant as my Mildred
She’s my dear love
Innocent as dove
The queen of club
Playful like a cub
My true valentine
Entices to dine
Lips as sweet as red wine
Embraces like vine
Box of chocolate
For my valentine date
But what I hate
I’m gonna be late
A bouquet of flowers
Brings forth showers
In my dear heart’s tower
Sprouts like flora grower
Together our hearts
Bound by a dart
Though it didn’t hurt
Court’sy from D’angel of hearts
Her laughter I love to hear
All these years
Yearns to be near
With my lovely dear
poem by Noel Horlanda
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Bacchus
BRING me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through
Under the Andes to the Cape,
Suffer'd no savour of the earth to 'scape.
Let its grapes the morn salute
From a nocturnal root,
Which feels the acrid juice
Of Styx and Erebus;
And turns the woe of Night,
By its own craft, to a more rich delight.
We buy ashes for bread;
We buy diluted wine;
Give me of the true,
Whose ample leaves and tendrils curl'd
Among the silver hills of heaven
Draw everlasting dew;
Wine of wine,
Blood of the world,
Form of forms, and mould of statures,
That I intoxicated,
And by the draught assimilated,
May float at pleasure through all natures;
The bird-language rightly spell,
And that which roses say so well:
Wine that is shed
Like the torrents of the sun
Up the horizon walls,
Or like the Atlantic streams, which run
When the South Sea calls.
Water and bread,
Food which needs no transmuting,
Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting,
Wine which is already man,
Food which teach and reason can.
Wine which Music is,--
Music and wine are one,--
That I, drinking this,
Shall hear far Chaos talk with me;
Kings unborn shall walk with me;
And the poor grass shall plot and plan
What it will do when it is man.
Quicken'd so, will I unlock
Every crypt of every rock.
I thank the joyful juice
For all I know;
Winds of remembering
Of the ancient being blow,
And seeming-solid walls of use
Open and flow.
Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine;
Retrieve the loss of me and mine!
Vine for vine be antidote,
And the grape requite the lote!
Haste to cure the old despair;
Reason in Nature's lotus drench'd--
The memory of ages quench'd--
Give them again to shine;
Let wine repair what this undid;
And where the infection slid,
A dazzling memory revive;
Refresh the faded tints,
Recut the aged prints,
And write my old adventures with the pen
Which on the first day drew,
Upon the tablets blue,
The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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