Sonnet - to Genevra
Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe,
And yet so lovely, that if Mirth could flush
Its rose of whiteness with the brightest blush,
My heart would wish away that ruder glow:
And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes---but, oh!
While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush,
And into mine my mother's weakness rush,
Soft as the last drops round Heaven's airy bow.
For, though thy long dark lashes low depending,
The soul of melancholy Gentleness
Gleams like a Seraph from the sky descending,
Above all pain, yet pitying all distress;
At once such majesty with sweetness blending,
I worship more, but cannot love thee less.
Related quotes
Sonnet, To The Same (Genevra)
Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe,
And yet so lovely, that if Mirth could flush
Its rose of whiteness with the brightest blush,
My heart would wish away that ruder glow:
And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes--but, oh!
While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush,
And into mine my mother's weakness rush,
Soft as the last drops round heaven's airy bow.
For, through thy long dark lashes low depending,
The soul of melancholy Gentleness
Gleams like a seraph from the sky descending,
Above all pain, yet pitying all distress;
At once such majesty with sweetness blending,
I worship more, but cannot love thee less.
To Minette
With your lovely face
and bright blue eyes
at any time you could disrupt my life
and a single word made me believe in your love
and your soft lips, the blush on your cheek
and bright blue eyes
really caught me
and the sound of your voice
and your soft lips, the blush on your cheek
grasped my heart
and your soft hand folding around mine
and the sound of your voice
leaves me now only with mourning
and the remembering of how wonderful you were
and your soft hand folding around mine
has been extinguished by destiny, changed to ash.
With your lovely face
and the remembering of how wonderful you were
at any time you could disrupt my life.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Delight In God Only
I love (and have some cause to love) the earth;
She is my Maker's creature, therefore good:
She is my mother, for she gave me birth;
She is my tender nurse; she gives me food;
But what's a creature, Lord, compared with Thee?
Or what's my mother, or my nurse to me?
I love the air; her dainty fruits refresh
My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me;
Her shrill-mouth'd choirs sustain me with their flesh.
And with their polyphonian notes delight me:
But what's the air, or all the sweets that she
Can bless my soul withal, compared to Thee?
I love the sea; she is my fellow-creature,
My careful purveyor; she provides me store;
She walls me round; she makes my diet greater;
She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore:
But, Lord of oceans, when compared with Thee,
What is the ocean, or her wealth to me?
To heaven's high city I direct my journey,
Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye;
Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney,
Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky.
But what is heaven, great God, compared to Thee?
Without Thy presence, heaven's no heaven to me.
Without Thy presence, earth gives no reflection:
Without Thy presence, sea affords no treasure;
Without Thy presence, air's a rank infection;
Without Thy presence, heaven itself no pleasure:
If not possess'd, if not enjoyed in Thee,
What's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven to me?
The highest honours that the world can boast,
Are subjects far too low for my desire;
Its brightest gleams of glory are, at most,
But dying sparkles of Thy living fire:
The brightest flames that earth can kindle, be
But nightly glowworms, if compared to Thee.
Without Thy presence, wealth is bags of cares;
Wisdom, but folly; joy, disquiet, sadness;
Friendship is treason, and delights are snares;
Pleasures, but pain; and mirth, but pleasing madness:
Without Thee, Lord, things be not what they be,
Nor have their being when compared with Thee.
In having all things, and not Thee, what have I?
Not having Thee, what have my labours got?
Let me enjoy but Thee, what have my labours got?
And having Thee alone, what have I not?
I wish nor sea nor land; nor would I be
Possess'd of heaven, heaven unpossess'd of Thee.
poem by Francis Quarles
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Pale Blue Eyes
Sometimes I feel so happy
Sometimes I feel so sad
Sometimes I feel so happy
But mostly you just make me mad
Baby, you just make me mad
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Thought of you as my mountain top
Thought of you as my peak
A thought of you as everything
Ive had, but couldnt keep
Ive had, but couldnt keep
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Skip a life completely
Stuff it in a cup
They said, money is like us in time
It lies, but cant stand up
Down for you is up
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
It was good what we did yesterday
And Id do it once again
The fact that you are married
Only proves youre my best friend
But its truly, truly a sin
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
If I could make the world as pure
And strange as what I see
Id put you in a mirror
Id put in front of me
Id put in front of me
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The wheels on the bus
‘The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
All night long’
The driver on the bus goes
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
The driver on the bus goes
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
All night long
The children on the bus go
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
The children on the bus go
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
All night long
The fathers on the bus go
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
The fathers on the bus go
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
All night long
The mothers on the bus go
Hush hush shus
Hush hus hush
Hush hush
The mothers on the bus go
Hush hush hush
All night long
The clouds in the sky go
Sky sky sky
Sky sky sky
Sky sky sky
The ashes from the ground go
Die die die
Die die die
Die die die
All night long
Shakiras on the bus go
Waka waka hey
Waka waka hey
Waka waka hey
The boughs in the tree go
Waka waka sway
Waka waka sway
Waka waka sway
All night long
PS:
The wheels on the bus – children’s song (anonymous?)
Waka waka World’s current top hit on VH1 music channel
August 17,2010
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Gertrude, Or Fidelity Till Death
Dark lowers our fate,
And terrible the storm that gathers o'er us;
But nothing, till that latest agony
Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose
This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-house,
In the terrific face of armed law,
Yea, on the scaffold, if it needs must be,
I never will forsake thee.
-Joanna Baillie
HER hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes rais'd,
The breeze threw back her hair;
Up to the fearful wheel she gaz'd–
All that she lov'd was there.
The night was round her clear and cold,
The holy heaven above,
Its pale stars watching to behold
The might of earthly love.
'And bid me not depart,' she cried,
'My Rudolph, say not so!
This is no time to quit thy side,
Peace, peace! I cannot go.
Hath the world aught for me to fear,
When death is on thy brow?
The world!–what means it?–mine is here–
I will not leave thee now.
'I have been with thee in thine hour
Of glory and of bliss;
Doubt not its memory's living power
To strengthen me thro' this!
And thou, mine honour'd love and true,
Bear on, bear nobly on!
We have the blessed heaven in view,
Whose rest shall soon be won.'
And were not these high words to flow
From woman's breaking heart?
Thro' all that night of bitterest woe
She bore her lofty part;
But oh! with such a glazing eye,
With such a curdling cheek–
Love, love! of mortal agony,
Thou, only thou, should'st speak!
The wind rose high–but with it rose
Her voice, that he might hear:
Perchance that dark hour brought repose
To happy bosoms near;
While she sat striving with despair
Beside his tortured form,
And pouring her deep soul in prayer
Forth on the rushing storm.
She wiped the death-damps from his brow
With her pale hands and soft,
Whose touch upon the lute-chords low
Had still'd his heart so oft.
She spread her mantle o'er his breast,
She bath'd his lips with dew,
And on his cheek such kisses press'd
As hope and joy ne'er knew.
Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith,
Enduring to the last!
She had her meed–one smile in death–
And his worn spirit pass'd.
While ev'n as o'er a martyr's grave
She knelt on that sad spot,
And, weeping, bless'd the God who gave
Strength to forsake it not!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Glow
Glow,
Take out this foreign heart,
Wash oof the sand that seeps out through my eyes,
Ive still sleep in my eyes.
Cold,
Colds how we felt so long,
Accuse me of crying and speaking of lies.
Ive still sleep in my eyes,
Ive still sleep in my eyes,
Glow like a lover.
Out,
Out is the winter pale,
Gold rising june in the blue of my eye,
Ive still sleep in my eyes.
Glow, this is my family,
Send for the soul you can soon realise.
Ive still sleep in my eyes,
Ive still sleep in my eyes,
Glow like a lover.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To My Cousin
Come out with me into the moonlight, coz!
Fling by that page of romance—the hot breath
Of the dim taper, ill befits an eve
So beautiful as this—I know there is
A deep bewildering interest in that tale;
For the low drooping head, the parted lip,
The feverish glow that brightens cheek and eye,
And the light finger press'd upon the page,
As if that volume were the magic link
That bound thee to illusion—all proclaim
The spell that hath enchain'd thee. Yet come out,
And I will show thee full as bright a page,
And one where thou may'st read as wild a tale
Of love and chivalry, as that from which
My voice hath won thee.—Is it not, sweet coz,
A most delicious night? and how could I
Gaze upward on that moon, and thou not here—
Our arms entwining thus—and the light touch
Of those soft fingers resting upon mine,
That I may feel their gentle pressure tell
Thy voiceless feelings—when I turn to say
“How very beautiful!”—It is a night
For Poetry—and the low breeze comes by
As 't were a holy whisper, sent to quell
The spirit's fever.—We will fling aside
Like a dull robe the thought of present things,
And wrap ourselves in dreams.
And yet 't is not
A scene like that we gazed on when yon moon
Last moved, so empress-like, across the sky—
Nay, thou rememberest—I know it well
By the curl'd lip turn'd towards me with a smile
Of recollected pleasure: yet again
Look towards yon concave: other eyes than ours
Are gazing on that orb, and kindly lips
Perchance are naming us.
Did we not say
Yon planet should be written, like a book,
With cherish'd memories?—and when the hour
Of her arising came, that we would think
On those from whom we parted?—Look, Annette!
Couldst thou not fancy that a friendly eye
Was smiling on thee from the distant sphere?
Nay, laugh not, cousin,—'t was a silly thought!—
But who would fetter fancy's wildest wing
Upon a night like this? The very light
That falls around us hath a dreamy spell,
And gives the scene a dim unreal shade,
Like a forgotten thought come back again.
It is most beautiful! yet on the heart
The sense of pleasure presses, with a weight
That half hath started tears—'t is strange that even
Our happiness should be so link'd with pain!
And beauty—perfect beauty—only wake
The knowledge that our spirits are too weak,
To feel it in its full deep blessedness!
Didst never wish to be an angel, coz?
That thou might understand the pencilling
Writ on the sunset sky—and send abroad
A soul unfetter'd on a night like this!
Well, let us wander on—did I not say
I knew a history of the olden time,
That I would tell to thee?—we should have been
Beneath our grape-vine bower—thou know'st it, love,
And I thine own true knight to sing thee,
While thou didst touch the lute—
But 't is not so—
And while I tell the tale of which I spake,
If I can win from thee one gentle sigh,
I will not ask for music!—
'T was a night
Moon-lit, and calm, and beautiful,—like this;
Music was swelling out, upon the breeze,
From a gay festive hall—and starry lamps
Flung out their perfumed splendour upon brows
Of alabaster whiteness, and dark hair
Enwreathed with dazzling gems: light forms went by
Graceful and fairy-like, amid the dance,
Beside a nation's chivalry—and songs
Melted away in liquid melody
From rosy lips, and the gay laugh broke forth;
Or, when the ancient minstrel breathed some tale
Of love and sadness, gentle tears fell forth
From eyes that shone more lovely through their mist
But there was one, had stolen from that scene
Of smiles and joyousness, to where the moon
Look'd downward, silently, through jasmine leaves,
And the low night-breeze kiss'd the drooping bells
Of the sweet clematis.
And there she stood—
Her head bent slightly back, and the long fringe
Of her dark melancholy eye raised up
And laid against her brow, as if her soul
Were lifted in that long deep glance to Heaven!
Her cheek was pale—so pale, that its faint tinge
Of lingering carmine scarce sufficed to tell
That the slight form, round which the white robes fell
So gracefully, was not in very deed
A sculptor's form of beauty—her dark hair
Was carelessly thrown backward, and her hand
Twisted among its tresses, look'd as 't were
A wandering moon-beam—'t was so delicate!
A deeper sadness gather'd on the brow,
The queenly brow, of that young worshipper,
Until it droop'd upon her breast, and tears
Came crowding to her eyelids. Could it be
That grief had paled a cheek so beautiful?
That gush of tears went by—and she raised up
Her forehead to the breeze, and touch'd the lute,
That lay beside her, to a mournful strain,
The while she sung to it:—
“This faded cheek, this faded cheek,
Pale lip and alter'd brow,
Are all the outward signs that speak
The love I bear thee now.
I name thee not amid the halls,
Where mirthful glances shine;
But not one tear in secret falls,
That is not truly thine.
“They told me, that the vows we spake
Were soon forgot by thee;
But though my heart, perchance, may break,
'T will ne'er be false to thee.
Nor would'st thou, dearest, all so soon
That one deep vow forget,
The first, the last, the only one,
That told our hearts had met.
”They told me thou wast false, that pride
Might dry my burning tears,
When I should learn that thou hadst died
Amid thine early years.
They did not know how deeply dear
Was every thought of thee,
More fondly, truly, cherish'd here,
Than living love could be.”
The strain was hush'd—A rustle midst the leaves
Hath caught the maiden's ear, and a low voice
Whisper'd the name of “Eva!” Could it be
That the dark grave had given up its dead?
Or was that breath a summons from the land
Of parted spirits? But a moment more,
And her own knight was kneeling at her feet—
Her head fell on his bosom—hours past on,
And when the gray dawn made a pause amid
The mirth of their gay revelling, they came
To seek that absent one,—and both were there,
Silent and motionless as they had sunk,
When the first shock was over—one in death,
And one in cold despair!
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Weeper
HAIL, sister springs,
Parents of silver-footed rills!
Ever bubbling things,
Thawing crystal, snowy hills!
Still spending, never spent; I mean
Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene.
Heavens thy fair eyes be;
Heavens of ever-falling stars;
'Tis seed-time still with thee,
And stars thou sow'st whose harvest dares
Promise the earth to countershine
Whatever makes Heaven's forehead fine.
Every morn from hence
A brisk cherub something sips
Whose soft influence
Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips;
Then to his music: and his song
Tastes of this breakfast all day long.
When some new bright guest
Takes up among the stars a room,
And Heaven will make a feast,
Angels with their bottles come,
And draw from these full eyes of thine
Their Master's water, their own wine.
The dew no more will weep
The primrose's pale cheek to deck;
The dew no more will sleep
Nuzzled in the lily's neck:
Much rather would it tremble here,
And leave them both to be thy tear.
When sorrow would be seen
In her brightest majesty,
--For she is a Queen--
Then is she drest by none but thee:
Then and only then she wears
Her richest pearls--I mean thy tears.
Not in the evening's eyes,
When they red with weeping are
For the Sun that dies,
Sits Sorrow with a face so fair.
Nowhere but here did ever meet
Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet.
Does the night arise?
Still thy tears do fall and fall.
Does night lose her eyes?
Still the fountain weeps for all.
Let day and night do what they will,
Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still.
Not So long she lived
Will thy tomb report of thee;
But So long she grieved:
Thus must we date thy memory.
Others by days, by months, by years,
Measure their ages, thou by tears.
Say, ye bright brothers,
The fugitive sons of those fair eyes
Your fruitful mothers,
What make you here? What hopes can 'tice
You to be born? What cause can borrow
You from those nests of noble sorrow?
Whither away so fast
For sure the sordid earth
Your sweetness cannot taste,
Nor does the dust deserve your birth.
Sweet, whither haste you then? O say,
Why you trip so fast away?
We go not to seek
The darlings of Aurora's bed,
The rose's modest cheek,
Nor the violet's humble head.
No such thing: we go to meet
A worthier object--our Lord's feet.
poem by Richard Crashaw
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Glow (12")
Glow,
take out this foreign heart,
wash oof the sand that seeps out through my eyes,
I've still sleep in my eyes.
Cold,
cold's how we felt so long,
accuse me of crying and speaking of lies.
I've still sleep in my eyes,
I've still sleep in my eyes,
glow like a lover.
Out,
out is the winter pale,
gold rising June in the blue of my eye,
I've still sleep in my eyes.
Glow, this is my family,
send for the soul you can soon realise.
I've still sleep in my eyes,
I've still sleep in my eyes,
glow like a lover.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Untitled 8
Thou sinless and sweet one - thy voice is a strain
Which yields solace to sadness, and balm to my pain,
From thy unsullied spirit it comes to me here,
Like the music of Eden - soft, holy, and clear.
The storm-stirring thoughts o'er my heart holding sway,
At the charm of its gentleness vanish away!
For its melody, teeming with gladness and love,
Seems the song of the seraph to lure me above.
Beautiful prattler! - that music of mirth,
Yet unchecked by the cares and the sorrows of earth,
Mingles strangely where anguish and retchedness reign,
With the sigh of the captive, and the clank of his chain.
Yet I love to hear it, though captive I be,
Gushing pure from thy young heart all joyous and free.
There's a siren-like sweetness pervading its song
Which can woo me to virtue, and win me from wrong.
Play on then, - play on, then - for thou dost not know
What it is to be wretched and burdened with woe:
There's the fair world around thee, and blue sky above,
Ever seeming to breathe on thee beauty and love;
And the waters that flash in the suns golden beams,
Dance beneath thee as bright as thine own fairy dreams;
Yet here, there are hearts sank in ruin and crime,
Which once was as gleesome and guiltless as thine.
Beware! then - beware! - when seducingly gay,
Vice with counterfeit smiles, would beguile thee away
From the good and the lovely, from virtue and joy,
To the pleasures of sin, which debase and destroy.
Those holy emotions and pure thoughts which dwell
In the bosom of childhood - oh, cherish them well!
For if there's a true joy this world can impart,
It surely exists in the innocent heart.
Though remorse wring my soul, and
though care clothe my brow,
I once was as sinless and joyous as thou;
And knelt, too, like thee, by a fond mother's chair
With tiny hands folded in faith-hallowed pray'r.
Play on, my sweet child! there's a penitent tear
Stealing down my wan cheek as I list to thee here:
There's a prayer in my heart to the wise one above
To be made like a child in belief and in love.
O ever when gladly this gay world would win
With its tinselled allurements thy young heart to sin,
Turn away from the light of its illusive glare,
And seek in temptation thy refuge of pray'r.
Uncorrupted in heart and a stranger to woe.
With the garland of love green and bright on thy brow,
Mayn't thou journey through life and thy voice still retain
Its heav'n-given sweetness to sooth grief and pain.
poem by Owen Suffolk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Image
When a wild grace I see,
A turn o' the neck, a curl, sweet hands, clear eyes,
Gentleness, courtesy, dignity;
In all these gifts Thee I surmise, surprise.
All beauty and delight.
Skin like a rose, a beauteous shape, an air
Free and enchanting, give my weary sight
Glimpses of Thee, Thou Beauty past compare.
Strength, courage also are Thine.
And joy of youth and wings that cleave the blue,
Low singing and soft voices, I divine
In these Thy beauty ancient yet ever new.
Oh, when my startled eye
Perceives this beauty league-long, sea and isle
And eagle-crested mountains wild and high,
I catch Thy Maker's thought -- I see Thy smile.
Some mirror out of range
Flashes reflex of Heaven on this sweet earth,
Brooding for ever, beautiful, without change,
The blue-bell sea, the thousand streams' soft mirth.
All beauty is of Thee.
Kindness and quietness, moon and stars and sun,
Gardens and woods, the bird in the new-fledged tree
And sleep, O Kindest One!
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Italian Girl's Hymn To The Virgin
In the deep hour of dreams,
Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea,
And by the star-light gleams,
Mother of sorrows! lo, I come to thee!
Unto thy shrine I bear
Night-blowing flowers, like my own heart, to lie
All, all unfolded there,
Beneath the meekness of thy pitying eye.
For thou, that once didst move,
In thy still beauty, through an early home,
Thou knowest the grief, the love,
The fear of woman's soul; - to thee I come!
Many, and sad, and deep,
Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast;
Thou, too, couldst watch and weep -
Hear, gentlest mother! hear a heart oppressed!
There is a wandering bark
Bearing one from me o'er the restless wave:
Oh! let thy soft eye mark
His course; - be with him, holiest, guide and save!
My soul is on that way;
My thoughts are travellers o'er the waters dim;
Through the long weary day
I walk, o'ershadowed by vain dreams of him.
Aid him - and me, too, aid!
Oh! 'tis not well, this earthly love's excess!
On thy weak child is laid
The burden of too deep a tenderness.
Too much o'er
him
is poured
My being's hope - scarce leaving Heaven a part;
Too faithfully adored,
Oh! make not him the chastener of my heart!
I tremble with a sense
Of grief to be; - I hear a warming low
Sweet mother! call me hence!
This wild idolatry must end in woe.
The troubled joy of life,
Love's lightning happiness, my soul hath known
And, worn with feverish strife,
Would fold its wings; take back, take back thine own.
Hark! how the wind swept by!
The tempest's voice comes rolling o'er the wave -
Hope of the sailor's eye,
And maiden's heart, blest mother, guide and save!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Long As Your Eyes Are Blue
'Will you love me, sweet, when my hair is grey
And my cheeks shall have lost their hue?
When the charms of youth shall have passed away
Will your love as of old prove true?
'For the looks may change, and the heart may range
And the love be no longer fond;
Will you love with truth in the years of youth
And away to the years beyond?'
Oh, I love you, sweet, for your locks of brown
And the blush on your cheek that lies,
But I love you most for the kindly heart
That I see in your sweet blue eyes.
For the eyes are the signs of the soul within,
Of the heart that is leal and true,
And, my own sweetheart, I shall love you still,
Just as long as your eyes are blue.
For the locks may bleach, and the cheeks of peach
May be reft of their golden hue;
But, my own sweetheart, I shall love you still,
Just as long as your eyes are blue.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song #5
I would not feign a single sigh
Nor weep a single tear for thee:
The soul within these orbs burns dry;
A desert spreads where love should be.
I would not be a worm to crawl
A writhing suppliant in thy way;
For love is life, is heaven, and all
The beams of an immortal day.
For sighs are idle things and vain,
And tears for idiots vainly fall.
I would not kiss thy face again
Nor round thy shining slippers crawl.
Love is the honey, not the bee,
Nor would I turn its sweets to gall
For all the beauty found in thee,
Thy lily neck, rose cheek, and all.
I would not feign a single tale
Thy kindness or thy love to seek;
Nor sigh for Jenny of the Vale,
Her ruby smile or rosy cheek.
I would not have a pain to own
For those dark curls and those bright eyes
A frowning lip, a heart of stone,
False love and folly I despise.
poem by John Clare
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To Ianthe
I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake;
Those azure eyes, that faintly dimpled cheek,
Thy tender frame, so eloquently weak,
Love in the sternest heart of hate might wake;
But more when o'er thy fitful slumber bending
Thy mother folds thee to her wakeful heart,
Whilst love and pity, in her glances blending,
All that thy passive eyes can feel impart:
More, when some feeble lineaments of her,
Who bore thy weight beneath her spotless bosom,
As with deep love I read thy face, recur,--
More dear art thou, O fair and fragile blossom;
Dearest when most thy tender traits express
The image of thy mother’s loveliness.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pale Blue Eyes (feat. Counting Crows)
originally by Lou Reed, Velvet Underground
Sometimes I feel so happy
Sometimes I feel so sad
Sometimes I feel so happy
But mostly you just make me mad
Baby, you just make me mad
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Thought of you as my mountain top
Thought of you as my peak
Thought of you as everything
I've had but couldn't keep
I've had but couldn't keep
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
If I could make the world as pure and strange as what I see
I'd put you in the mirror
I put in front of me
I put in front of me Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Skip a life completely
Stuff it in a cup
She said, "Money is like us in time
It lies, but can't stand up
Down for you is up"
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
It was good what we did yesterday
And I'd do it once again
The fact that you are married
Only proves, you're my best friend
But it's truly, truly a sin
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See Me In The Mirror
See me in the mirror if you want to
See me in the mirror if you really want to
Maybe not too clear, but the face you'll see is mine
Do you feel my eyes burning through you
Do you feel the burn when my eyes see through you
Do you see my eyes when they burn into your mind
I can feel the teardrops hit the ground where I'm layed
I can feel you breathing while I sleep through the day
See you in a vision in the dark with no light?
Your soul may go to heaven, but your heart's mine tonight
Do you feel my skin when you touch me
Do you feel my skin when you reach and touch me
Cold and blue and thin but it's still somehow alive
And you can feel my blood running through you
You can feel the rush of my blood run through you
You can feel the gush when my blood runs up your spine
And I can feel the teardrops hit the ground where I'm layed
I can feel you breathing while I sleep through the day
See you in a vision in the dark with no light?
Your soul may go to heaven, but your heart's mine tonight
See me in your mirror if you want to
See me in the mirror if you really want to
Maybe not too clear, but the face you'll see is mine
See me in the mirror, mirror, mirror
See me in the mirror, mirror
See me in the mirror, mirror
See me in the mirror, mirror
See me in the mirror, mirror, mirror
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Red Rose
But once bloomed that crimson rose
which could stand with her head held high,
against life's darkest sky.
Just once did that delicate petals spread
and soft lovely fragrance scent,
before she dropped her head.
Just once the blush on your cheek,
and the light in your eye
had a thousand words to speak,
but never could it hide the pain
- and drops not of rain -
did vanish behind a bright new day,
but every pleasure it's a price to pay:
since no rose could forever stay.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pale Blue Eyes
This is an original new-waver...
Sometimes
Sometimes I get so sad
Sometimes I feel almost heavenly but
Baby I mostly feel mad
Yeah, baby, you just make me mad
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
It was good what we did yesterday
And Id do it again
The fact that youre insane
Only proves that youre my best friend
Well, I will never f*ck anyone else again
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Thought of you as my mountain top
I thought of you as my peak
Thought of you as everything that I couldnt keep
Yeah, that I had but I couldnt keep
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
You explode inside of me
Yeah you explode my heart
I never had nothing anywhere so the end is where I start
Cause Im real [? ]
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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