To Anne: Oh, Say Not, Sweet Anne
Oh, say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed
The heart which adores you should wish to dissever;
Such Fates were to me most unkind ones indeed,
To bear me from love and from beauty for ever.
Your frowns, lovely girl, are the Fates which alone
Could bid me from fond admiration refrain;
By these, every hope, every wish were o'erthrown,
Till smiles should restore me to rapture again.
As the ivy and oak, in the forest entwined,
The rage of the tempest united must weather;
My love and my life were by nature design'd
To flourish alike, or to perish together.
Then say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed
Your lover should bid you a lasting adieu;
Till Fate can ordain that his bosom shall bleed,
His soul, his existence, are centred in you.
Related quotes
The Fates
The Lady`s Three, The Fates
Daughters of fair Goddess Night
Three aspects of the moon in flight
The Moerae, phases of thy lunar dates
First by name is Clotho
'Spinner of the Thread of Life'
Maiden fate of waxing light
Lissom love not doleful
The second Fate by name, Lachesis
'The measurer of Life`s Thread Length'
The burnished white, in full moon`s strength
Nymph fate of sanguine blood is
The third Fate by name, Atropos
'The cutter of The Thread'
The crone Fate of the dead
The waning moon, sends Banshee`s of apropos
Zeus`s folly claim, of siring these Fates three
And command of thy delegations
His mendacity, met him relegation
For even he, couldst not flee, The Fates that be
Oh! Parthenogenous Daughters
Of great Lady Necessity
The Strong Fate o`er land, sky and sea
I`ll await, The White Robed Fates, when my time abates
poem by Steve Trimmer
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Though we hear various reports of his existence we can never find the young wizard who is able so they say to graft the soul of a girl to the soul of her lover so that not even the sharp scissors of the Fates can ever sever them apart.
quote by Harry Crosby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gaia
(olivia newton-john)
I am your mother--born of the sun
I gave you shelter--what have you done?
Your hearts in turmoil--my worlds in pain
I need to turn you back home again
I am a woman--i am the rain
And like your father--i feel the betrayed
What you are doing--can be undone
You know the answers--tell everyone
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Whose fates in jeopardy
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
I am the forest--now Im a tree
The air is dirty--i cannot breathe
My streams run empty--my tears run dry
My children call me--dont let us die
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Whose fates in jeopardy
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
I love my children and Ive been your home
But Ill survive this--if Im alone
Im survivor--but you will be gone
Lets start a new world--from this day on
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Whose fates in jeopardy
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
Oh respect me
Oh respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Licia Sonnets 09
Love was laid down, all weary fast asleep,
Whereas my love his armor took away;
The boy awaked, and straight began to weep,
But stood amazed, and knew not what to say.
"Weep not, my boy," said Venus to her son,
"Thy weapons none can wield, but thou alone;
Licia the fair, this harm to thee hath done,
I saw her here, and presently was gone;
She will restore them, for she hath no need
To take thy weapons where thy valour lies;
For men to wound the Fates have her decreed,
With favour, hands, with beauty, and with eyes."
No, Venus, no: she scorns them, credit me;
But robbed thy son that none might care for thee
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Smitten
I loved a maid who loved not me.
This was a love that could not be
For she was wed, though I was free.
But had she been at liberty
I would have wooed her openly.
Instead I loved her secretly.
Just one of life’s small tragedies
There was no cure for my disease
I hoped through time the pain would cease.
But sadly this was not to be.
The fates had ruled capriciously
there could be no one else for me
Although the lady never knew
my love for her was deep and true
I held my peace how could she do.
Although I tried my best to find
another love. She filled my mind.
The snare fate fashioned well designed.
The lady saw me as a friend,
someone on whom she could depend.
I had no choice but to pretend
That friendship was enough for me.
Although I loved her hopelessly.
I loved her well enough to see.
That she was married happily.
But I was bound by fates decree
to love her unrequitedly
26-Oct-08.
http: //.blog.my space.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Love's Last Adieu
The roses of Love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtur'd 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them for ever, in Love's last adieu!
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,
Or Death disunite us, in Love's last adieu!
Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast,
Will whisper, ÒOur meeting we yet may renew:Ó
With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow's represt,
Nor taste we the poison, of Love's last adieu!
Oh! mark you yon pair, in the sunshine of youth,
Love twin'd round their childhood his flow'rs as they grew;
They flourish awhile, in the season of truth,
Till chill'd by the winter of Love's last adieu!
Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way,
Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue?
Yet why do I ask?---to distraction a prey,
Thy reason has perish'd, with Love's last adieu!
Oh! who is yon Misanthrope, shunning mankind?
From cities to caves of the forest he flew:
There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;
The mountains reverberate Love's last adieu!
Now Hate rules a heart which in Love's easy chains,
Once Passion's tumultuous blandishments knew;
Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins,
He ponders, in frenzy, on Love's last adieu!
How he envies the wretch, with a soul wrapt in steel!
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,
And dreads not the anguish of Love's last adieu!
Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast;
No more, with Love's former devotion, we sue:
He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast;
The shroud of affection is Love's last adieu!
In this life of probation, for rapture divine,
Astrea declares that some penance is due;
From him, who has worshipp'd at Love's gentle shrine,
The atonement is ample, in Love's last adieu!
Who kneels to the God, on his altar of light
Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew:
His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight,
His cypress, the garland of Love's last adieu!
Slender's Ghost
Vide Shakspeare.
Beneath a churchyard yew,
Decay'd and worn with age,
At dusk of eve methought I spied
Poor Slender's Ghost, that whimpering cried,
'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!'
Ye gentle Bards! give ear,
Who talk of amorous rage,
Who spoil the lily, rob the rose,
Come learn of me to weep your woes:
'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!'
Why should such labour'd strains
Your formal Muse engage?
I never dreamt of flame or dart,
That fired my breast or pierced my heart,
But sigh'd, 'O sweet Anne Page!'
And you! whose lovesick minds
No med'cine can assuage,
Accuse the leech's art no more,
But learn of Slender to deplore;
'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!'
And ye! whose souls are held,
Like linnets in a cage;
Who talk of fetters, links, and chains,
Attend and imitate my strains;
'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!'
And you! who boast or grieve,
What horrid wars ye wage,
Of wounds received from many an eye,
Yet mean as I do, when I sigh,
'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!'
Hence every fond conceit
Of shepherd or of sage;
'Tis Slender's voice, 'tis Slender's way,
Expresses all you have to say,
'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!'
poem by William Shenstone
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Songs Set To Music: 9. Set By Mr. De Fesch
Is it, O love, thy want of eyes,
Or by the Fates decreed,
That hearts so seldom sympathise,
Or for each other bleed?
If thou wouldst make two youthful hearts
One amorous shaft obey,
'Twould save thee the expense of darts,
And more extend thy sway.
Forbear, alas! thus to destroy
Thyself, thy growing power,
For that which would be stretch'd by joy
Despair will soon devour.
Ah! wound then my relentless fair,
For thy own sake and mine,
That boundless may be my share,
And double glory thine.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Sonnet XXXVIII: Oh Sigh
Oh Sigh! thou steal'st, the herald of the breast,
The lover's fears, the lover's pangs to tell;
Thou bid'st with timid grace the bosom swell,
Cheating the day of joy, the night of rest!
Oh! lucid Tears! with eloquence confest,
Why on my fading cheek unheeded dwell,
Meek, as the dew-drops on the flowret's bell
By ruthless tempests to the green-sod prest.
Fond sigh be hush'd! congeal, O! slighted tear!
Thy feeble pow'rs the busy Fates control!
Or if thy crystal streams again appear,
Let them, like Lethe's, oblivion roll:
For Love the tyrant plays, when hope is near,
And she who flies the lover, chains the soul!
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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Ladys Tomb
As in the gardens, all through May, the rose,
Lovely, and young, and fair apparelled,
Makes sunrise jealous of her rosy red,
When dawn upon the dew of dawning glows;
Graces and Loves within her breast repose,
The woods are faint with the sweet odour shed,
Till rains and heavy suns have smitten dead
The languid flower, and the loose leaves unclose, -
So this, the perfect beauty of our days,
When earth and heaven were vocal of her praise,
The fates have slain, and her sweet soul reposes;
And tears I bring, and sighs, and on her tomb
Pour milk, and scatter buds of many a bloom,
That dead, as living, she may be with roses.
poem by Pierre Ronsard
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To ---- III
Give me but the energy,
That guides thy dauntless will;
Give me but thy ardent hope,
That no reverse can chill;
Thy buoyant soul, that on life's sea,
No billows can o'erwhelm,
When Faith sits smiling through the clouds,
And Reason holds the helm;
Give me these qualities of thine,
In such a meet alliance,
And I, like thee, upon the fates
Will smile a calm defiance.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Unkind, O, stay thy flying!
Unkind, O, stay thy flying!
And if I needs must die, pity me dying.
But in thee, my heart is lying
And no death can assail me,
Alas! till life doth fail thee,
Oh therefore, if the fates bid thee be fleeting,
Stay for me, whose poor heart thou hast in keeping.
poem by John Wilbye
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While the Fates Sleep
Come, let us to the sunways of the west,
Hasten, while crystal dews the rose-cups fill,
Let us dream dreams again in our blithe quest
O'er whispering wold and hill.
Castles of air yon wimpling valleys keep
Where milk-white mist steals from the purpling sea,
They shall be ours in the moon's wizardry,
While the fates, wearied, sleep.
The viewless spirit of the wind will sing
In the soft starshine by the reedy mere,
The elfin harps of hemlock boughs will ring
Fitfully far and near;
The fields will yield their trove of spice and musk,
And balsam from the glens of pine will fall,
Till twilight weaves its tangled shadows all
In one dim web of dusk.
Let us put tears and memories away,
While the fates sleep time stops for revelry;
Let us look, speak, and kiss as if no day
Has been or yet will be;
Let us make friends with laughter 'neath the moon,
With music on the immemorial shore,
Yea, let us dance as lovers danced of yore
The fates will waken soon!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Rage
Rage, rage oh burning rage
What gentle soul have you claimed
And torn from which a heart
Once good, noble and loving
No more could you let a soul rest
And find the joys of which it sang
No you poisoned it with misery
You poisoned with the unrequited desire
That left many a sleepless night
Are the fates plying those strings
Or is karma quietly waiting
And in its wait the is nothing
But the dying of faith, hope and love
What this gentle soul this heart
What it once believed and trusted
That it wished to share with the world
What remains amidst all this rage
But the agony and the mistrust
The poisoned paranoia infects deep
And deep is the rage that burns
And so I am left unanswered
As to what gentle soul rage has claimed
So I curse it and its name
poem by Matthew Holloway
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At Dusk
AT DUSK, like flowers that shun the day,
Shy thoughts from dim recesses break,
And plead for words I dare not say
For your sweet sake.
My early love! my first, my last!
Mistakes have been that both must rue;
But all the passion of the past
Survives for you.
The tender message Hope might send
Sinks fainting at the lips of speech,
For, are you lover—are you friend,
That I would reach?
How much to-night I’d give to win
A banished peace—an old repose;
But here I sit, and sigh, and sin
When no one knows.
The stern, the steadfast reticence,
Which made the dearest phrases halt,
And checked a first and finest sense,
Was not my fault.
I held my words because there grew
About my life persistent pride;
And you were loved, who never knew
What love could hide!
This purpose filled my soul like flame:
To win you wealth and take the place
Where care is not, nor any shame
To vex your face.
I said “Till then my heart must keep
Its secrets safe and unconfest;”
And days and nights unknown to sleep
The vow attest.
Yet, oh! my sweet, it seems so long
Since you were near; and fates retard
The sequel of a struggle strong,
And life is hard—
Too hard, when one is left alone
To wrestle passion, never free
To turn and say to you, “My own,
Come home to me!”
poem by Henry Kendall
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Soaked in Serotonin
Clouds of thunder erupt above the serenity of my dwelling place,
The sky though grey retains its magnificence. The downpour swells.
The streets run acid drips of erosion down their gutters as the
Blackbird flutters its wings in hope of returning hope before being soaked.
I know that beyond the grey lay the last rays of Apollo’s glory,
His return is promised by the knowledge of all that has gone before us
Yet we are no more guaranteed that the sun will rise tomorrow
As we are guaranteed of a life everlasting beyond the need of redemption.
The God Child dwells within us all and it is towards our potential that
We our called by our aspirations; they whisper throughout the night,
Those Muses of delight that take us upon our flights of fancy, leaving us
At times deranged yet forever they’ll know and they’ll tell you that beauty
Is the flowers show. Still the rain continues to fall. With each beat upon
The pavement, with each ripple they call, feeding inspiration towards the
Heart of the poets All. Beyond the summer, beyond the fall Death promises
Life anew, beyond the blue, beyond the grey lay a crimson sky in dismay.
A Red Sun wavered upon the horizon as fueled by ecstasy he danced
Chancing circles in and out of time with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
The sky melts so close to merging with the boundary of my vision,
Blackbirds sink into the green yet still I hear them filling the forest
With the songs of their undressing. What a blessing it is to be here,
Born into this form, born beyond the storm of a world at war and waiting.
He danced and dances still, upon the hill, seeking his thrills in pleasure pills.
The hours passed alike seconds, as the mind of the wanderer soaked in serotonin
Sought the forest as his home, crying out to the Gods of the woodland to keep
Him calm throughout the dissolution of his inhibition, yet listen they did not
As the Emerald Queen took him by the hand, speaking of a love of spring and the land
She stood, domineering in her beauty grand, and there still she stands holding
Cold the stone statuette of a dying virgin poets heart. For dance did he in circles
With her grace, dance did he till he lost his faith in the significance of existence,
Then slipping silently into twilight procession he understood his obsession with
Transcendence yet it was too late for him, the Fates had decreed and he was turned
To stone though the Emerald Queen with her pleas did all she could to try
And halt the Guardians of the woodland in their conduction of law surreal.
He had known too much in the touch of her palm, he had found calm
Beyond the need of a love of the All, he had fallen in Love with our immortal
Maiden Green and now he contemplates within a dream existence whether or
Not he would dance with her again or whether he would refrain from the pain
Of loosing all upon the Earth he choose to Love, was the truth of a dream within
The skies above enough to balance the Love of his family and friends?
poem by David Lacey
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Corydon's Supplication To Phyllis
Sweet Phyllis, if a silly swain
May sue to thee for grace,
See not thy loving shepherd slain
With looking on thy face;
But think what power thou hast got
Upon my flock and me;
Thou seest they now regard me not,
But all do follow thee.
And if I have so far presumed,
With prying in thine eyes,
Yet let not comfort be consumed
That in thy pity lies;
But as thou art that Phyllis fair,
That fortune favour gives,
So let not love die in despair
That in thy favour lives.
The deer do browse upon the briar,
The birds do pick the cherries;
And will not Beauty grant Desire
One handful of her berries?
If it be so that thou hast sworn
That none shall look on thee,
Yet let me know thou dost not scorn
To cast a look on me.
But if thy beauty make thee proud,
Think then what is ordain'd;
The heavens have never yet allow'd
That love should be disdain'd.
Then lest the fates that favour love
Should curse thee for unkind,
Let me report for thy behoof,
The honour of thy mind;
Let Corydon with full consent
Set down what he hath seen,
That Phyllida with Love's content
Is sworn the shepherds' queen.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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I Am In Love With You
How can i prove it to you?
My simple, talented, hanbdsome and gentle man;
I am in love with you and i want you to know.
That's how love should be my dream lover,
That's how love should go my sweet one,
To keep us always on the tracks;
Like Romeo and Juliet.
Should i approach you directly for love?
Because i can't sleep at night;
I am in love with you.
Should i buy you presents?
Oh my sweet lover! !
Kindly listen to my call and let me in.
I really love you and i will be there for you always;
I will never miss you from many waters,
Like flesh to flesh with the union of the love that we share.
Needful things my love,
To enrich my soul to the world so sweet;
I hope you can see it in my eyes too.
Come and fill my loneliness,
For i am a sojourner on your love;
I will always be there for you,
Like the shadows of the waterfalls that flows through your heart.
Can't you see it in my smiles?
I will never miss you my love;
Do you want it hot or cold?
For you are my love and,
I will take you around to see the beauty of nature.
Straight to my heart is what you are,
And i will always be there for you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Feelings And Questions Of A Poet
Beholding Your Lovely Incarnation
Which Was In My Sweet Imagination
I Simply Became Spellbound......
And In The Ninth Heaven, Myself I Found
Who's That Noble Astronomer-
Fixing Our Co-ordinates...?
And Who's That 'Unseen Mathematician'..
Drawing The Graph Of Our Fates..?
poem by Durgapuri Babu
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The Poetry Of Shakespeare
Picture some Isle smiling green 'mid the white-foaming ocean; -
Full of old woods, leafy wisdoms, and frolicsome fays;
Passions and pageants; sweet love singing bird-like above it;
Life in all shapes, aims, and fates, is there warm'd by one great
human heart.
poem by George Meredith
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