College love encounter
If you are who I think you are, your face, your name
I may be lost, not knowing, not to be who I am
Such a swift unexpected encounter to bare in my face
It brings all past passions confusions back to surface
Well at first sight I wonder how life have been with you
Are you happy? that I should thus be happy too
For still my heart regards your weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do, as always was thus its will
I am unconsciously courteous unable to suppress my brimming sighs
The piercing melting power of your eyes
A vision I always longed and dread to see
It now brings the old havoc and tremble all over me
Oh dear; let it be short, adieu I must away
While you are blest I will not repine
For near you, I still can never Longley stay
My heart would soon again crave to make you mine
For years I wondered whether time or pride
Had quenched at length the youths flame
Nor knew till this hasty random meeting on street side
My heart in all save hope and expectations the same
Yet I am calm in this ghastly encounter, I knew the time
My chest would thrill and rebel against your look
Well, well by chance we meet and not a nerve is shook
As thus love of youth frozen encapsulated in its prime
I notice the gaze upon your face
yet we meet with no confusion there
One only feeling could you trace
the sullen calmness of despair
Away, away I brush my early dream
remembrance, reminiscence sleep again never awake
Oh I bagged life not to be derailed but back to its daily routine stream
Oh foolish heart be still, stop torturing my soul, if you rebel you again break
Thus lady of past early youth love
I must view your charms no more
For as long as this encounter lingers as the heaven above
I sigh for all I felt and experience before
In short I shall be surely wise
To escape from temptation snare
Your beauty and charm with years of patina is my paradise
I cannot view you, without the wish of re dwelling there
As Adam was expelled from Eden bowers
A moment I lingered near college paradise gate
Recalling the scenes of happy vanished lost hours
And bade myself to curse my future fate
But wondering through life long years
I learnt to bare my load of grief
Just gave a sigh to my vain pangs and tears
And found to me remedy, recovery relief
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Related quotes
Well! Thou Art Happy
Well! thou art happy, and I feel
That I should thus be happy too;
For still my heart regards thy weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do.
Thy husband's blest — and 'twill impart
Some pangs to view his happier lot:
But let them pass — Oh! how my heart
Would hate him if he loved thee not!
When late I saw thy favourite child,
I thought my jealous heart would break;
But when the unconscious infant smiled,
I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.
I kiss'd it, — and repress'd my sighs
Its father in its face to see;
But then it had its mother's eyes,
And they were all to love and me.
Mary, adieu! I must away:
While thou art blest I'll not repine;
But near thee I can never stay;
y~ heart would soon again be thine.
I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride,
Had quench'd at length my boyish flame;
Nor knew, till seated by thy side
My heart in all, — save hope,— the same.
Yet was I calm: I knew the time
My breast would thrill before thy look;
But now to tremble were a crime
We met, — and not a nerve was shook.
I saw thee gaze upon my face,
Yet meet with no confusion there:
One only feeling could'st thou trace;
The sullen calmness of despair.
Away! away! my early dream
Remembrance never must awake:
Oh! where is Lethe's fabled stream?
My foolish heart, be still, or break.
November 2, 1808
To A Lady, On Being Asked My Reasons For Quitting England In The Spring
When Man, expell'd from Eden's bowers,
A moment linger'd near the gate,
Each scene recall'd the vanish'd hours,
And bade him curse his future fate.
But, wandering on through distant climes,
He learnt to bear his load of grief;
Just gave a sigh to other times,
And found in busier scenes relief.
Thus, lady! will it be with me,
And I must view thy charms no more;
For, while I linger near to thee,
I sigh for ail I knew before.
In flight I shall be surely wise,
Escaping from temptation's snare;
I cannot view my paradise
Without the wish of dwelling there.
December 2, 1808
Past love
Is it you I keep thinking of, dreaming of still?
Should I feel like I do; shall I do like I feel?
I come to realize that I do miss your love and sooth
While I am not missing your harsh manners and capricious reproof
We ran our love; the golden largess of our praise
Till it was gone,
So it came; so it fell to the flower of cankered mal
It would not let it be as it was; sieged in fatal
It is not a word spoken or a gesture token,
Few words are said; silence is pure innocent guide
Nor even a look piercing of the sharp eyes
Nor a bend or a nod of the head,
But only a calm hush overwhelming the heart
That has too much to contemplate and to keep,
Only memories waking, running through the unsettled mind
That sleeps so light a sleep; if rests such a short.
There is no magic between us any more,
We meet; we behave; we react as other people do,
Your presence works no miracle for me
Does mine play any perfumed reminiscence to you?
Nothing will be changed now
After so many years all unshaken stand;
Like sluttish ware out tomb stones in grave yard
Life has not broken it with parting or panting tears;
Death will not alter it either,
My heart against you will never rebel;
My feelings in my heart do live on
Long after love past; they are in all my songs
When I am perished and gone.
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And Doth Not a Meeting Like This
And doth not a meeting like this make amends
For all the long years I've been wandering away --
To see thus around me my youth's early friends,
As smiling and kind as in that happy day?
Though haply o'er some of your brows, as o'er mine,
The snow -- fall of time may be stealing -- what then?
Like Alps in the sunset, thus lighted by wine,
We'll wear the gay tinge of youth's roses again.
What soften'd remembrances come o'er the heart,
In gazing on those we've been lost to so long!
The sorrows, the joys, of which once they were part,
Still round them, like visions of yesterday, throng.
As letters some hand hath invisibly traced,
When held to the flame, will steal out on the sight,
So many a feeling, that long seem'd effaced,
The warmth of a meeting like this brings to the light.
And thus, as in memory's bark we shall glide,
To visit the scenes of your boyhood anew,
Though oft we may see, looking down on the tide,
The wreck of full many a hope shining through;
Yet still, as in fancy we point to the flowers,
That once made a garden of all the gay shore,
Deceived for a moment, we'll think them still ours,
And breathe the fresh air of life's morning once more.
So brief our existence, a glimpse, at the most,
Is all we can have of the few we hold dear;
And oft even joy is unheeded and lost,
For want of some heart, that could echo it, near.
Ah, well may we hope, when this short life is gone,
To meet in some world of more permanent bliss,
For a smile, or a grasp of the hand, hastening on,
Is all we enjoy of each other in this.
But, come, the more rare such delights to the heart,
The more we should welcome and bless them the more;
They're ours, when we meet -- they are lost when we part,
Like birds that bring Summer, and fly when 'tis o'er.
Thus circling the cup, hand in hand, ere we drink,
Let Sympathy pledge us, through pleasure, through pain,
That, fast as a feeling but touches one link,
Her magic shall send it direct through the chain.
poem by Thomas Moore
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To H.a.b. On My Forty-seventh Birthday
WHEN one is forty years and seven,
Is seven and forty sad years old,
He looks not onward for his Heaven,
The future is too blank and cold,
Its pale flowers smell of graveyard mould;
He looks back to his lifeful past;
If age is silver, youth is gold:-
Could youth but last, could youth but last!
He turns back toward his youthful past
A-throb with life and love and hope,
Whose long-dead joys in memory last,
Whose shining days had ample scope;
He turns and lingers on the slope
Whose dusk leads down to sightless death:-
The sun once crowned that darkening cope,
And song once thrilled this weary breath.
Ali, he plods wearily to death,
Adown the gloaming into night,
But other lives breathe joyous breath
In morning's boundless golden light;
Their feet are swift, their eyes are bright,
Their hearts beat rhythms of hope and love,
Their being is a pure delight
In earth below and heaven above.
And you have hope and joy and love,
And you have youth's abounding life,
Whose crystal currents flow above
The stones and sands of care and strife.
May all your years with joys be rifc,
May you grow calmly to your prime,
A maiden sweet, a cherished wife,
A happy mother in due time.
All good you wish me, past my prime,
I wish with better hope to you,
And richer blessings than old Time
And Fate or Fortune found my due:
For you are kind and good and true,
And so when you are forty-seven
May spouse and children in your view
Make Home the happiest life-long Heaven.
poem by James Thomson
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To George, Earl Delwarr
Oh! yes, I will own we were dear to each other;
The friendships of childhood, though fleeting are true;
The love which you felt was the love of a brother,
Nor less the affection I cherish'd for you.
But Friendship can vary her gentle dominion;
The attachment of years in a moment expires:
Like Love, too, she moves on a swift-waving pinion,
But glows not, like Love, with unquenchable fires.
Full oft have we wander'd through Ida together,
And blest were the scenes of our youth, I allow:
In the spring of our life, how serene is the weather!
But winter's rude tempests are gathering now.
No more with affection shall memory blending,
The wonted delights of our childhood retrace:
When pride steels the bosom, the heart is unbending,
And what would be Justice appears a disgrace.
However, dear George, for I still must esteem you;
The few whom I love I can never upbraid:
The chance which has lost may in future redeem you,
Repentance will cancel the vow you have made.
I will not complain, and though chill'd is affection,
With me no corroding resentment shall live:
My bosom is calm'd by the simple reflection,
That both may be wrong, and that both should forgive.
You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence,
If danger demanded, were wholly your own.
You knew me unalter'd by years or by distance
Devoted to love and to friendship alone.
You knew - but away with the vain retropection!
The bond of affection no longer endures;
Too late you may droop o'er the fond recollection,
And sigh for the friend who was formerly yours.
For the present, we part,--I will hope not for ever;
For time and regret will restore you at last:
To forget our dimension we both should endeavour,
I ask no atonement, but days like the past.
To George, Earl Delawarr
Oh! yes, I will own we were dear to each other;
The friendships of childhood, though fleeting, are true;
The love which you felt was the love of a brother,
Nor less the affection I cherish'd for you.
But Friendship can vary her gentle dominion;
The attachment of years in a moment expires:
Like Love, too, she moves on a swift-waving pinion,
But glows not, like Love, with unquenchable fires.
Full oft have we wander'd through Ida together,
And blest were the scenes of our youth, I allow:
In the spring of our life, how serene is the weather!
But winter's rude tempests are gathering now.
No more with affection shall memory blending,
The wonted delights of our childhood retrace:
When pride steels the bosom, the heart is unbending,
And what would be justice appears a disgrace.
However, dear George, for I still must esteem you;
The few whom I love I can never upbraid:
The chance which has lost may in future redeem you,
Repentance will cancel the vow you have made.
I will not complain, and though chill'd is affection,
With me no corroding resentment shall live:
My bosom is calm'd by the simple reflection,
That both may be wrong, and that both should forgive.
You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence,
If danger demanded, were wholly your own;
You knew me unalter'd by years or by distance,
Devoted to love and to friendship alone.
You knew,--but away with the vain retrospection!
The bond of affection no longer endures;
Too late you may droop o'er the fond recollection,
And sigh for the friend who was formerly yours.
For the present, we part,--I will hope not for ever;
For time and regret will restore you at last:
To forget our dissension we both should endeavour,
I ask no atonement, but days like the past.
poem by Byron (1807)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You came to me at the autumn of my life
You came to me at the autumn of my life
At the end of the day at the dawn of my dusk
You came to me so suddenly and so swift
to stir the heart to shake the love I knew
You came to me a sweet flower of the field
Love forlorn, furrows of pain in the beauty of your face
anguish in your lengthy sigh
upon your checks the tears long ran dry
To remind me of forms of love I never knew
To challenge to intrigue life calm and satiate
Although I knew my years were past best
I smiled at your false speaking tongue
Outfacing faults in love with love fickle rest
But whenever you claim of true youth in your veins
Whenever say not I that I am old?
Remind you of love best characters of strength and sooth
And age in love? You mock
Loves not the years to be told
Hush to that false talk I listen no more
Nor shall I grieve for the betrayal in love done
Roses have thorns and fresh fountains mud
Cloud and eclipses stain both moon and sun
And the loathsome canker in the sweetest bud dwell
All mankind makes faults which they never tell
I shall not wear pretentious cloths not of my measure
To authorize your trespass with a moral compare
To excuse sins more than what they are
Is a sin itself
But against your sensual fault I try to bring sense
Your adverse playful nature is your advocator
The love we cherish and nourish at our youth
Will stay with us at old age to sooth
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Our marriage
So once I have thought how sweet it is to love!
And so I did follow in aught how beguiling is young desire!
And thus I have endured the pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach our love's fire!
And in truth our pains of love were sweeter far
Than all other pleasures were or are.
Our early sighs which were from our love blown
Did but gently heave and calm the heart:
Even the tears we shed together and alone
Cured, like trickling balm, their smart:
As young lovers, when we lost our breath,
we bled away in an easy soothing death.
But now I ask why should a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago in years and seasons was made,
Still oblige us to each other now,
When passion is lost and love decayed?
We loved, and we loved, as long as we could,
Till our love was loved out in us both;
But our marriage is dead when the pleasure and fun are fled:
It was pleasure first made it an oath.
Yet with time and in years it grow into despise and loath
Yet now I ask not the cause why it turns sullen spring
That so long delays her flowers over our heads to bear;
Why warbling birds forget to sing, and quite are the lake rings
And winter storms invert the year under its gloom we lost our cheer
Roses are gone; and fate provides
To make it spring away where she resides.
And in this world of prison and loath in which we stubbornly stay
Your indifference of a spectator who is idle and aloofly sits
An icon of more a beholding than caring in a cold detached play
Of estranging and abandoning rather than amending my troubled wits
Take for instance the times when I enjoy glad occasions
Or in sad times when I wail and utter my pains and woes
The first kind you encounter with sulphuric retreats of desperation
While on the second you offer no kindness, a total cruelty in shows
Finding no delights in my mirth nor rues in my successes
Mocking me in my laughs, and when I cry
You laugh hardening ever more your remote heart and withdrawn passes
Where are this love and passion that used to dwell in your eye
And nothing in me can move you, nor mirth nor moan
Oh love, what is the process that has turn you into senseless stone!
How great our mutual grief, our joys how few,
Time have the slow years not brought to view
Your voice once so sweet encouraging and calm
Now can shedder glass and is heard through like drums
It beats to battle; dreadful bells that awaken alarms
Your face, once my phantom, delights of fancy, comes
In front of me to give the battle its utmost climax
Ah, the neighbors and other bold acquaintances
On us they have drown their social acceptances
claiming we have the perfect life in pure marriage
little they know the horses hooked behind the carriage
Would ever such horses and carriage move forward
Sodomy and agony; suffocating oppression I feel so awkward
Shall I long and yearn to be happy again when I am alone
Do the things I want and call the day my own
Stop being dependent, be secure within and can say
Be your worse darling I have lived my day
Ah, be fair or foul, rain or shine
Who cares, my joys in spite fate are mine
No one on earth and nor you over me has power
Free from what has been I will seek my rebirth hour
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Lines Written Beneath An Elm In The Churchyard Of Harrow On The Hill, Sept. 2, 1807
Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
With those who, scattered far, perchance deplore,
Like me, the happy scenes they knew before:
Oh! as I trace again thy winding hill,
Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still,
Thou drooping Elm! beneath whose boughs I lay,
And frequent mused the twilight hours away;
Where, as they once were wont, my limbs recline,
But ah! without the thoughts which then were mine.
How do thy branches, moaning to the blast,
Invite the bosom to recall the past,
And seem to whisper, as the gently swell,
'Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last farewell!'
When fate shall chill, at length, this fevered breast,
And calm its cares and passions into rest,
Oft have I thought, 'twould soothe my dying hour,—
If aught may soothe when life resigns her power,—
To know some humbler grave, some narrow cell,
Would hide my bosom where it loved to dwell.
With this fond dream, methinks, 'twere sweet to die—
And here it lingered, here my heart might lie;
Here might I sleep, where all my hopes arose,
Scene of my youth, and couch of my repose;
For ever stretched beneath this mantling shade,
Pressed by the turf where once my childhood played;
Wrapped by the soil that veils the spot I loved,
Mixed with the earth o'er which my footsteps moved;
Blest by the tongues that charmed my youthful ear,
Mourned by the few my soul acknowledged here;
Deplored by those in early days allied,
And unremembered by the world beside.
Our Orli
Of all the girls that are cleaver and smart
There is none like witty pretty Orli
She is the darling of our heart
Where she lives within chambers' alley solely
Of all young ladies of the land
none walks in such beauty and youth of proud descend
her master of art and math of high command
like cloudless climate of starry nights skies
you can meet the aspect of her eyes
The war of shades and lights
of rebel frowns and innocent smiles bright
are so softly lightened over her glance and face
where thoughts sweetly serenely express
How pure how dear is their dwelling place
And on those cheeks and over this brow
the soft and calm yet eloquent
smiles that win the tints that glow
but tell of budding life of respect and in goodness spent
A mind at its peace with all the universe show
A heart whose love and thirst to the world is innocent
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Lines Written beneath an Elm in the Churchyard of Harrow
Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
With those who, scatter'd far, perchance deplore,
Like me, the happy scenes they knew before:
Oh! as I trace again thy winding hill,
Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still,
Thou drooping Elm! beneath whose boughs I lay,
And frequent mused the twilight hours away;
Where, as they once were wont, my limbs recline,
But, ah! without the thoughts which then were mine:
How do thy branches, moaning to the blast,
Invite the bosom to recall the past,
And seem to whisper, as they gently swell,
"Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last farewell!"
When Fate shall chill, at length, this fever'd breast,
And calm its cares and passions into rest,
Oft have I thought, 'twould soothe my dying hour,--
If aught may soothe when life resigns her power,--
To know some humble grave, some narrow cell,
Would hide my bosom where it loved to dwell;
With this fond dream, methinks 'twere sweet to die--
And here it linger'd, here my heart might lie;
Here might I sleep where all my hopes arose,
Scene of my youth, and couch of my repose;
For ever stretch'd beneath this mantling shade,
Press'd by the turf where once my childhood play'd;
Wrapt by the soil that veils the spot I loved,
Mix'd with the earth o'er which my footsteps moved;
Blest by the tongues that charm'd my youthful ear,
Mourn'd by the few my soul acknowledged here;
Deplored by those in early days allied,
And unremember'd by the world beside.
poem by Byron (1807)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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How Can I Love Again
How can I love again
When the darkness is holding my heart beats
How can I feel happy again
When the tears are washing my face
Through the years
How can I smile again
When the
sadness is stirring
Within my soul for long years
How can my heart beat for love again
When it stopped beating before long years
The meaning of love
Since the day on Is so dirty
The love that at the past
Used to have the meaning of pure emotions
Is now so nasty
The love that I have found in your heart
It's just reminding me how silly I was
When I felt in your love
You were my hero
That I have figured him in my imagination
And disappeared at once
The love has no meaning for me now
Has no place in my heart
No one can convice me
To believe again
No one can make me trust in love once again
The loneliness is my only lover
Till forever
Dying alone at the hell of loneliness
Is much better than living at the heaven of the lie.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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A Pride's Validation
Many times, like a baby I cried, I confess,
But I overcame that cruel past...
Standing up strong without stress,
I erased a love I did not cast...
Now, as the only architect
Of my new and improved life,
I got back my self control and respect,
Ready to face any new strife...
Even when my once happy heart
Was painfully and mercilessly violated,
I never felt the world falling apart,
And back on my feet, I fully recuperated...
Awaiting for a better tomorrow,
I wide opened the doors to another sunshine...
Without any tears or silly sorrows,
I buried my past on due time...
With my heart and mind now reconciled,
I welcome the new course of my destiny,
Pasting on my face a brighter smile,
Knowing that nothing lasts for infinity...
©All Rights Reserved-2010
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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You Make My Heart Happy
When you walk through the door
Every morning at eight
With a smile on your face,
You can make the day great.
You make my heart happy.
When I have your attention
And you do what I ask;
When you try your hardest
At every task.
You make my heart happy.
Every school day
You answer my prayer
When you help each other
And show that you care.
You make my heart happy.
When I have a conference
With your mom and dad;
Tell them how hard you've worked
And what fun we've had,
You make my heart happy.
Our few years together
Are finally through.
I gave you my best
And you gave me yours, too.
You made my heart happy.
On an evening in June,
A most important date;
While I watch with pride
As you graduate,
You make my heart happy.
When I meet you downtown
With your kids and your wife,
And you tell me how much
I've meant to your life,
YOU MAKE MY HEART HAPPY!
(Dedicated to Mrs. Cindy Womer, Life Skills Class,
Danville Middle School; Danville, PA)
poem by Rich Reitz
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The Great Encounter
Fifteen minutes ago I was away,
Fourten minutes ago I was near,
I couldnt see the pictures clear,
Yet the vibrations I could hear,
My heart pounded with fear,
She was pure and ever dear,
It was fate I thought,
It was late I ought,
It was the great encounter
My heart was mud in boat,
Yet my fight was fed and caught,
My eyes did not deceive,
Wearing nice coats on my mind,
Trying to be the sweet guy always,
To please a woman I adore,
She stole my heart in minutes,
I couldnt steal her time even seconds,
My lost thoughts I thought she found,
Flowers and thorns, me and her
I met a friend, I cherished a friend
The great time, the great encounter
With linen shorts on resorts,
The wishes of a wondering man,
Hoping and waiting for the moment,
So long entrusted in the future,
Forged in the heart of a willing heart,
She never felt the same,
The thoughts of parallel minds,
Black and white, the art of a zebra
Mixed reactions and reacting mixtures,
Hoping and hoping, im waiting for you
The great encounter, so great in deed
The mirror showed me the visions,
Behind me you fashioned a foundation
Being a friend, texts without presence,
Avoiding clean with reasons,
It was pride, I knew it
She was clear, she proved it
Time will tell, but it might fail,
Waiting upon thee,
The great encounter
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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love And The Batterfly
Who can describe the meaning of love
While it changes masks
From heart to heart
Beyond the realities and lies
Sometimes open closed heart's doors
Sometimes snatches away happy heart's hops
And the important question's answer no one knows
If love really exists or its only a guessture
An employment of emotions
Some people's love is as short as batterfly's life
Their love is alike with poor batterfly 's life
They live just three days and how pity that than they die
Oh poor batterfly this reality sheds my heart to millions of pieces
But the life is unfair
Yet your kind patience embraces the unfairness it self
How this can be called life, love!
While it ends before it is just begun
Loving hearts are like happy batterflies
Like the lover who is happy in love
But at once finds out that all those were just lies
The loving heart is poor it does not has the opportunity to decide
To continue or stop
Just it has to give up
Disregarding what it feels inside
The one who gives up. walks away and forgets
But the loving heart's pain there alone cries
I'm the one who loved more than her life
And the day that the love deserted my life
With him have gone the shining smiles of mine
Who can make my heart tears
While my heart is firings fears
While my body is still here
My soul long ago is lost
With my hands I've held my heart out of my body out off fears
Out off my breast was covered bloody tears
I've gave my heart to love with my most happy years
For the one whom I've gave a life
Took away the beats of my heart!
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Perfect person i adore, only perfect person i'm assured
If only I knew that, I’ll found a person like you,
my heart will be so happy, and my day comes into a
living legacy of the memory of every yesterday, and
as i leave the portal of today, the past comes the day
to remember the present of what was the moment of the
past, for only today that makes the meaning of what
is year after years gone
flaccidly leads me to what the dream comes, easy to
live in the abundance of the heart the soul speak and the
wreath of victory lingers in every moment of the past, a
happy memory shared and a joy wondered that leads to
master the hallucinating shooting star, where the
blissfulness of time settled in your alluring heart of
love
come and touch my peaceful harmony of rhythmic
passion, live the harpoon of the growing glows of living,
fear me not for I make you the queen of my trembling
honest life, the true and genuine truth of loving you, would
always stay in your everlasting memory of eternity
perfect me in your Heart, and the Spirit that loose…..tied
you in my Soul
poem by Antonio Liao
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His Youth
Dying? I am not dying. Are you mad?
You think I need to ask for heavenly grace?
\I\ think \you\ are a fiend, who would be glad
To see me struggle in death's cold embrace.
'But, man you lie! for I am strong-in truth
Stronger than I have been in years; and soon
I shall feel young again as in my youth,
My glorious youth-life's one great priceless boon.
'O youth, youth, youth! O God, that golden time,
When proud and glad I laughed the hours away.
Why, there's no sacrifice (perhaps no crime)
I'd pause at, could it make me young to-day.
'But I'm not \old\! I grew-just ill, somehow;
Grew stiff of limb, and weak, and dim of sight.
It was but sickness. I am better now,
Oh, vastly better, ever since last night.
'And I could weep warm floods of happy tears
To think my strength is coming back at last,
For I have dreamed of such an hour for years,
As I lay thinking of my glorious past.
'You shake your head? Why, man, if you were sane
I'd strike you to my feet, I would, in truth.
How dare you tell me that my hopes are vain?
How dare you say I have outlived my youth?
''In heaven I may regain it?' Oh, be still!
I want no heaven but what my glad youth gave.
Its long, bright hours, its rapture and its thrill-
O youth, youth, youth! it is my \youth\ I crave.
'There is no heaven! There's nothing but a deep
And yawning grave from which I shrink in fear.
I am not sure of even rest or sleep;
Perhaps we lie and \think\, as I have here.
'Think, think, think, think, as we lie there and rot,
And hear the young above us laugh in glee.
How dare you say I'm dying! \I am not\.
I would curse God if such a thing could be.
'Why, see me stand! why, hear this strong, full breath-
Dare you repeat that silly, base untruth?'
A cry-a fall-the silence known as death
Hushed his wild words. Well, has he found his youth?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy 3 Month Anniversary! Lover John to Beloved Valentina <3
Eyes blinded, heart stopped
by your beauty and smile.
Your face and your love
I have seen for a while.
Three months to be exact,
I've loved you and cared.
True feelings, heart beating
my soul, to you, I bare.
The best months of my life
is the least I can say.
I think about you
every hour of every day.
For you make my heart melt,
my limbs weak, to crumble.
We share love and happiness,
and share even more when we tumble (hehe) .
Being with you makes me happy
overjoyed and ecstatic you could say.
By your side, I wish,
I could stay every day.
With you I feel a happiness
I have never felt before.
I guess what I mean is
I want to be with you more.
Three months is special, but years even better.
Take this, my dear, as a special anniversary love letter.
Happy Anniversary!
Your lover,
John
poem by Cody Black
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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