En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Wooing Song

LOVE is the blossom where there blows
Every thing that lives or grows:
Love doth make the Heav'ns to move,
And the Sun doth burn in love:
Love the strong and weak doth yoke,
And makes the ivy climb the oak,
Under whose shadows lions wild,
Soften'd by love, grow tame and mild:
Love no med'cine can appease,
He burns the fishes in the seas:
Not all the skill his wounds can stench,
Not all the sea his fire can quench.
Love did make the bloody spear
Once a leavy coat to wear,
While in his leaves there shrouded lay
Sweet birds, for love that sing and play
And of all love's joyful flame
I the bud and blossom am.
Only bend thy knee to me,
Thy wooing shall thy winning be!

See, see the flowers that below
Now as fresh as morning blow;
And of all the virgin rose
That as bright Aurora shows;
How they all unleaved die,
Losing their virginity!
Like unto a summer shade,
But now born, and now they fade.
Every thing doth pass away;
There is danger in delay:
Come, come, gather then the rose,
Gather it, or it you lose!
All the sand of Tagus' shore
Into my bosom casts his ore:
All the valleys' swimming corn
To my house is yearly borne:
Every grape of every vine
Is gladly bruised to make me wine:
While ten thousand kings, as proud,
To carry up my train have bow'd,
And a world of ladies send me
In my chambers to attend me:
All the stars in Heav'n that shine,
And ten thousand more, are mine:
Only bend thy knee to me,
Thy wooing shall thy winning be!

poem by Giles Fletcher The Younger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Ever Real

Love in its own oven doth bake
Loving not for own's possessive sake
Ever stumble, slip, bend, but will never break
In its deepest slumber will keep awake
Breaking not what its loving hands doth make
Giving all and seeking none to take
Upon i love, stands even when all at stake
Such is love, ever real and never fake
But when stumbling, bend and later will break
Then it's love given for one's own selfish sake
Whose love its own oven doth not bake
Which in a wink will fold and never wake
But me, O! me be the one who must take
That love, God in his grandeur doth make!

poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Outloved

I Love cometh and love goeth,
And he is wise who knoweth
Whither and whence love flies:
But wise and yet more wise
Are they that heed not whence he flies or whither
Who hither speeds to-day, to-morrow thither;
Like to the wind that as it listeth blows,
And man doth hear the sound thereof, but knows
Nor whence it comes nor whither yet it goes.

II

O sweet my sometime loved and worshipt one
A day thou gavest me
That rose full-orbed in starlike happiness
And lit our heaven that other stars had none:--
Sole as that westering sphere companionless
When twilight is begun
And the dead sun transfigureth the sea:
A day so bright
Methought the very shadow, from its light
Thrown, were enough to bless
(Albeit with but a shadow's benison)
The unborn days its dark posterity.
Methought our love, though dead, should be
Fair as in life, by memory
Embalmed, a rose with bloom for aye unblown.
But lo the forest is with faded leaves
And our two hearts with faded loves bestrown,
And in mine ear the weak wind grieves
And uttereth moan:
'Shed leaves and fallen, fallen loves and shed,
And those are dead and these are more than dead;
And those have known
The springtime, these the lovetime, overthrown,
With all fair times and pleasureful that be.'
And shall not we, O Time, and shall not we
Thy strong self see
Brought low and vanquishèd,
And made to bow the knee
And bow the head
To one that is when thou and thine are fled,
The silent-eyed austere Eternity?

III

Behold a new song still the lark doth sing
Each morning when he riseth from the grass,
And no man sigheth for the song that was,
The melody that yestermorn did bring.
The rose dies and the lily, and no man mourns
That nevermore the selfsame flower returns:
For well we know a thousand flowers will spring,
A thousand birds make music on the wing.
Ay me! fair things and sweet are birds and flowers,
The scent of lily and rose in gardens still,
The babble of beakèd mouths that speak no ill:
And love is sweeter yet than flower or bird,
Or any odor smelled or ditty heard--
Love is another and a sweeter thing.
But when the music ceaseth in Love's bowers,
Who listeneth well shall hear the silence stirred
With aftermoan of many a fretful string:
For when Love harpeth to the hollow hours,
His gladdest notes make saddest echoing.

poem by William Watson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her...

I can never get my mind off her,
I wonder if she'd mind if i'd,
make her my own,
and never let her go,
hug her tight,
treat her right,
act all polite,
take her on a date,
make sure i'm never late,
kiss her on her lips,
talk about our kids,
Make her feel like princess,
living in a castle,
hope that is not too much hassle,
But i am so blessed,
hope i can be the best,
hold you tight,
have your BR3A$t,
on my chest,
pass the test,
NOW YOUR MINE!

sorry for word spamming: (

love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

poem by Jordan Moore
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Song: Eternity of Love Protested

How ill doth he deserve a lover's name,
Whose pale weak flame
Cannot retain
His heat, in spite of absence or disdain;
But doth at once, like paper set on fire,
Burn and expire;
True love can never change his seat,
Nor did her ever love, that could retreat.

That noble flame which my breast keeps alive
Shall still survive
When my soul's fled;
Nor shall my love die when my body's dead,
That shall wait on me to the lower shade,
And never fade;
My very ashes in their urn
Shall, like a hallow'd lamp, forever burn.

poem by Thomas Carew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Has No Foes

Love has no foes; where'er he goes
Conditions full of mildness meet,
And amber honey-cells are filled,
And little birds begin to build,
And blossoms gather at his feet,—
Love is so sweet!

Love has no foes; the folded rose
That answering his smile's caress
Blows into beauty, with its heart
All bruised to fragrance by his art,
To every breeze doth still confess
His loveliness!

Love has no foes; who only knows
What Love hath been when Love is fled,
E'en he, bereft, would follow him,
Though to the voiceless caverns dim
Of the wan city of the Dead,
And share his bed!

poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Licia Sonnets 25

Seven are the lights that wander in the skies,
And at these seven, I wonder in my love.
So see the moon, how pale she doth arise,
Standing amazed, as though she durst not move;
So is my sweet much paler than the snow,
Constant her looks, these looks that cannot change.
Mercury the next, a god sweet-tongued we know,
But her sweet voice doth wonders speak more strange.
The rising Sun doth boast him of his pride,
And yet my love is far more fair than he.
The warlike Mars can wieldless weapons guide,
But yet that god is far more weak than she.
The lovely Venus seemeth to be fair,
But at her best my love is far more bright.
Saturn for age with groans doth dim the air,
Whereas my love with smiles doth give it light.
Gaze at her brows, where heaven ingrafted is;
Then sigh, and swear, there is no heaven but this

poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is a Lady Sweet and Kind

There is a lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleas'd my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.

Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice, my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.

Her free behaviour, winning looks,
Will make a lawyer burn his books;
I touch'd her not, alas! not I,
And yet I love her till I die.

Had I her fast betwixt mine arms,
Judge you that think such sports were harms,
Were't any harm? no, no, fie, fie,
For I will love her till I die.

Should I remain confined there
So long as Ph{oe}bus in his sphere,
I to request, she to deny,
Yet would I love her till I die.

Cupid is winged and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change:
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.

poem by Thomas Ford
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Blossom

Without anyone to love you
What will you blossom into?
Without anyone to hold you
How will you grow?
And in the Wildwood trees
The wild wind blows
And the nighttime crushes the hurricane rose
And with no one to care for you
Who knows
Blossom for me rose
You're the picture of my love
Blossom for me rose
Stretch out underneath the stars
And when tomorrow comes
I will hold you up
Little blossom, shining in the sun
Without any place to go to
How will your soul return to
Without anyone to keep you
Where will you go
And in the shadows of the past
Where you're spinning so fast
It's hard to see it coming
And it never lasts
And with nothing to judge your life by
How will you know
Blossom for me rose
You're the picture of my life
Blossom for me rose
Stretch out underneath the stars
And when tomorrow comes
I will hold you up
Little blossom, shining in the sun
Without anyone to love you
What will you blossom into
Without anyone to hold you
How will you grow

song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phillis 02

LOVE guards the roses of thy lips
And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.

Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And if I look the boy will lower,
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.

Love works thy heart within his fire,
And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
And of my plaints doth make a game.

Love, let me cull her choicest flowers;
And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers
Then will I praise thy deity.

But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.

poem by Thomas Lodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phillis II

Love guards the roses of thy lips
And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.

Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And if I look the boy will lower,
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.

Love works thy heart within his fire,
And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
And of my plaints doth make a game.

Love, let me cull her choicest flowers;
And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers
Then will I praise thy deity.

But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.

poem by Thomas Lodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Selfish Lover

My love doth not love but love it feels
Inside my heart which is deaf and mute.
I cannot love thee but my soul peals
The song of love into sweet fruit.
Love is the virtue, I selfishly hoard
A vice to entrap mine only good.
In the miser in me, my fruit I store
And eat for myself as love should.
But my heart doth not hear
And my heart doth not speak
The rich love my soul endear
Or the love thine heart seek?
For I do love one, but only me
If thou call that love or being miserly?

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Love Is

What is love, Love can't see you but you can't see it
Love is a sneaky thing I guess sort of slick

Love can hurt and Love can heal
Love can be born and Love can kill

Love has won and Love has lost
Love can catch and Love can toss

Love can stand and Love can fall
Love is small and Love is tall

Love is right and Love is wrong
Love is weak but Love is strong

Love is up and Love is down
Love can smile and Love can frown

Love is good and Love can be bad
Love is quite and Love can brag

Love is a little and Love is a lot
Love contiues and Love stops

Love can hope and Love can dream
Love can talk and Love can sing

Love can be a word or Love can be a ring
Love can be nothing or Love can be everything

So where is this thing we call Love
I dont know the only real love we have comes from above...

poem by Daniel Chapman
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Ballad

I KNOW my love is true,
And oh the day is fair.
The sky is dear and blue,
The flowers are rich of hue,
The air I breathe is rare,
I have no grief or care;
For my own love is true,
And oh the day is fair.
My love is false I find,
And oh the day is dark.
Blows sadly down the wind,
While sorrow holds my mind;
I do not hear the lark,
For quenched is life's dear spark,—
My love is false I find,
And oh the day is dark!
For love doth make the day
Or dark or doubly bright;
Her beams along the way
Dispel the gloom and gray.
She lives and all is bright,
She dies and life is night.
For love doth make the day,
Or dark or doubly bright.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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O love thou create

O love thou create and thou destroy
The innocent girl, the innocent boy
Tis in love that is, that lover's dwell
In foolish love fallen in foolish spell
One in love makes two hearts grow
None in love, and love stills show
On the melancholic face of beauty
In between the lines of poetry
Painted on the grace of Mary
Soaring on the wing of love's ferry
It's love's spell our life doth make
And life what love doth take
When thou say thou love me not
Thou love me not, but still love I got
So live I will.

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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I Know What Love Is

I Know What Love Is
There ain't a right way to a wrong thing
Tere ain't a bad tune that angels sing
Coz I know what you are like
There ain't a short cut to a long love affair
You know that three hearts don't make a pair
Coz I know your ace is high
I know what love is what love is what love is
And I know what love is like
There ain't a quick fix to a slow heartbreak
There ain't a good feeling in a bad mistake
But I know when it feels right
I know what love is what love is what love is
And I know what love is like
Love is like a bed I make it every day
Love is like breeze it blows you away
I know what love is like
There ain't a small thought in a big bouquet
There ain't another kiss like that first date
Coz I know that you just might
I know what love is what love is what love is
And I know what love is like
Love is like a bed I make it every day
Love is like a breeze that blows you away
Love is like a wish and love is like song
Love is like a thought that spins you along
I know what love is like
There ain't another song like Avalon
When the lights are off to turn you on
I know what love is like
I know what love is what love is what love is
And I know what love is like
Love is like a bed I make it every day
Love is like a breeze that blows you away
Love is like a wish and love is like a song
Love is like a though that spins you along
I know what love is like
I know what love is like
And I know what love is like
And I know what love is like

song performed by by Right Said Fred
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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What The World Needs Now

(hal david/burt bacharach)
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It's the only thing that there's just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No not just for some but for everyone
Lord we don't need another mountain
There are mountains and hillsides
Enough to climb
There are oceans and rivers
Enough to cross. enough to last
'till the end of time
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It's the only thing that there's just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No not just for some but for everyone
Lord we don't need another meadow
There are corn fields and wheat fields
Enough to grow
There are sun beams and moon beams
Enough to shine
Oh listen lord if you want to know
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It's the only thing that there's just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No not just for some but for everyone
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
What the world needs now

song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thule, the Period of Cosmography

Thule, the period of cosmography,
Doth vaunt of Hecla, whose sulphureous fire
Doth melt the frozen clime and thaw the sky;
Trinacrian Etna's flames ascend not higher:
These things seem wondrous, yet more wondrous I,
Whose heart with fear doth freeze, with love doth fry.

The Andalusian merchant, that returns
Laden with cochineal and china dishes,
Reports in Spain how strangely Fogo burns
Amidst an ocean full of flying fishes:
These things seem wondrous, yet more wondrous I,
Whose heart with fear doth freeze, with love doth fry.

poem by Thomas Weelkes
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Sonnet 102: My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming

My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner's tongue doth publish everywhere.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring
When I was wont to greet it with my lays,
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days—
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue,
Because I would not dull you with my song.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Phillis 2

LOVE guards the roses of thy lips
   And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
   And if I kiss he stingeth me.

Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
   And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And if I look the boy will lower,
   And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.

Love works thy heart within his fire,
   And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
   And of my plaints doth make a game.

Love, let me cull her choicest flowers;
   And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers
   Then will I praise thy deity.

But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.

poem by Thomas Lodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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