A Song. Go Tell Amynta, Gentle Swain
1.
Go tell Amynta, gentle swain,
I would not die, nor dare complain.
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy voice will more prevail than mine;
For souls opprest and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain'd this kind relief.
That music should in sounds convey
What dying lovers dare not say.
2.
A sigh or tear perhaps she'll give,
But love on pity cannot live:
Tell her that hearts for hearts were made,
And love with love is only paid,
Tell her my pains so fast increase
That soon it will be past redress;
For the wretch that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.
poem by John Dryden
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The Given Heart
I wonder what those lovers mean, who say
They have giv'n their hearts away.
Some good kind lover tell me how;
For mine is but a torment to me now.
If so it be one place both hearts contain,
For what do they complain?
What courtesy can Love do more,
Than to join hearts that parted were before?
Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come
Into the self-same room;
'Twill tear and blow up all within,
Like a granado shot into a magazine.
Then shall Love keep the ashes, and torn parts,
Of both our broken hearts:
Shall out of both one new one make,
From hers, th' allay; from mine, the metal take.
For of her heart he from the flames will find
But little left behind:
Mine only will remain entire;
No dross was there, to perish in the fire.
poem by Abraham Cowley
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Farewell, Fair Armida. A Song
Farewell, fair Armida, my joy and my grief!
In vain I have loved you, and hope no relief;
Undone by your virtue, too strict and severe,
Your eyes gave me love, and you gave me despair:
Now called by my honour, I seek with content
The fate which in pity you would not prevent:
To languish in love were to find, by delay,
A death that's more welcome the speediest way.
On seas and in battles, in bullets and fire,
The danger is less than in hopeless desire;
My death's wound you give me, though far off I bear
My fall from your sight—not to cost you a tear:
But if the kind flood on a wave should convey,
And under your window my body should lay,
The wound on my breast when you happen to see,
You'll say with a sigh—it was given by me.
poem by John Dryden
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Parted Presence
LOVE, I speak to your heart,
Your heart that is always here.
Oh draw me deep to its sphere,
Though you and I are apart,
And yield, by the spirit's art,
Each distant gift that is dear.
O love, my love, you are here!
Your eyes are afar to-day,
Yet, love, look now in mine eyes.
Two hearts sent forth may despise
All dead things by the way.
All between is decay,
Dead hours and this hour that dies.
O love, look deep in mine eyes!
Your hands to-day are not here,
Yet lay them, love, in my hands.
The hourglass sheds its sands
All day for the dead hours' bier;
But now, as two hearts draw near,
This hour like a flower expands.
O love, your hands in my hands!
Your voice is not on the air,
Yet, love, I can hear your voice:
It bids my heart to rejoice
As knowing your heart is there,—
A music sweet to declare
The truth of your steadfast choice.
O love, how sweet is your voice!
To-day your lips are afar,
Yet draw my lips to them, love.
Around, beneath, and above,
Is frost to bind and to bar;
But where I am and you are,
Desire and the fire thereof.
O kiss me, kiss me, my love!
Your heart is never away,
But ever with mine, for ever,
For ever without endeavour,
To-morrow, love, as to-day;
Two blent hearts never astray,
Two souls no power may sever,
Together, O my love, for ever!
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Songs Set To Music: 4. Set By Mr. Smith
Come, weep no more, for 'tis in vain;
Torment not thus your pretty heart;
Think, Flavia, we may meet again,
As well as that we now must part.
You sigh and weep; the gods neglect
That precious dew your eyes let fall;
Our joy and grief with like respect
They mind, and that is not at all.
We pray, in hopes they will be kind,
As if they did regard our state;
They hear, and the return we find
Is, that no prayers can alter Fate.
Then clear your brow, and look more gay;
Do not yourself to grief resign;
Who knows but that those powers may
The pair they now have parted join?
But since they have thus cruel been,
And could such constant lovers sever,
I dare not trust, lest, now they're in,
They should divide us two for ever.
Then, Flavia, come, and let us grieve,
Remembering, though, upon what score;
This our last parting look believe,
Believe we must embrace no more.
Yet should our sun shine out at last,
And Fortune, without more deceit,
Throw but one reconciling cast,
To make two wandering lovers meet;
How great then would our pleasures be
To find heaven kinder than believed,
And we, who had no hopes to see
Each other, to be thus deceived!
But say, should heaven bring no relief;
Suppose our sun should never rise;
Why, then, what's due to such a grief
We've paid already with our eyes.
poem by Matthew Prior
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One Of A Kind
There we were two lonely souls
Existing from day to day
Feeling love would never
Come our way
Watching lovers share their bliss
Sadly wishing only if
Believing that we had to live
Life like this
But like a bolt of lightning
As when two stormy clouds collide
We made a joyful happening
To our lives
Now were happy as can be
Me loving you and you loving me
Two hearts intertwined
Wich makes us one of a kind
Feeling the charge of a love evermore
Knowing that love is enough to live for
It feels so fine
Sharing love one of a kind
One of a kind now baby
Your love and mine
One of a kind, sweet darling
The only way love is meant to be
United love so fine
Living in love one of a kind
It feels nothing but fine
Sharing our love one of a kind
If we had a second chance
At living a second time
Wed change everything but our love
In our lives
cause like a big disaster
Lost in a never-ending night
We light a light of magic
Made everything right
Now were happy as can be
Me loving you and you loving me
Two hearts intertwined
Wich makes us one of a kind
Feeling the charge of a love evermore
Knowing that love is enough to live for
It feels so fine
Sharing love one of a kind
One of a kind, now baby
Your love and mine, such ecstasy
One of a kind, sweet darling
The only way love is meant to be
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream.dare.seek
Dream to dare and dream what others don’t seek
Seek to dare another dream that dares to dream.
Dare to dream the dream that others seek
Seek the dream that others don’t dare.
Dream yourself away from here
Fly yourself away from fear.
Across the barren lake of infinity
Towards the beaming celestial city.
Seek what your heart desires
Beyond the haggle and twist of buyers.
Where the world cannot be bought or sold
Hearts are the only things made or silver and gold.
Dare to let your mind take flight
Away from darkness into the light
Forever and ever this world shall turn.
Our hearts and eyes, lies to burn.
Seek.Dare.Dream
poem by Emily Ecstacy
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Children's Playground In The City
THIS is a place where men laid their dead,
Each with his life-tale of good or ill;
Here prayers were murmured and hot tears shed,
And passionate anguish moaned its fill.
Silent now is each voice that cried,
And the tears that were wept have all been dried
In the dust; and dust are the hearts that bled
With hopeless longing for hearts grown still.
Dead and forgotten! for Death, requiter
Of love, taught Memory how to forget!
The love that remembered them died. Grow brighter,
Oh, dim grave-garden, with dead hearts set!
Room for the small flying feet to pass,
The feet of the children over the grass!
The dead, if they knew it, would feel them lighter
Than the weight of a stone that no tears make wet.
We must die too, and the grief that will live
Must die as surely--death comes to all;
But you who come after--let Nature give
To our graves her tears, to our dust her pall:
Let her hide us away in her cold broad breast,
Let us be forgotten, and be at rest,
And over our heads let the great world strive,
And the children's voices carol and call.
If your heart on the flower of remembrance is set,
There is one way to pluck it--and only one:
Dare you ask your country not to forget
A name that needs to be graved on stone?
By grief, strife, sacrifice, scorn of fame,
You may grave on the people's hearts your name,
Or your name may die, and your soul live yet
In the cause you died for--the work you have done.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Thoughts Of Her
all that i am and all that im not try as i may and try as i will ill try harder and give it my best the darkness will com and darkness will pass what lies ahead in yonder paths only ill know but not for a while my heart lays in your hands what u will do or waht u dont i give u my heart keep it have it an hold or break it in a million pieces all that i know the light in yer eyes shines upon my darkened soul now my heart smiles when u say my name even if u jus say it once i hear ur voice in my head for all time ill always remember the sweetness of your voice that heavenly sound like angels in thy distant heavens far and away is what ur voice sounds like to me never sounds bad always sounds sweet my hearts beats it beats fast wen i think of you it beats a mile a minute feels good this loving feeling i hope that it would never end before everything my soul was nothing inside i was alone and things looked like they were going to come to an end like a big brick wall i was cornered til i met you i smashed thru that wall and felt like i could over come any sadness that was around me ur smile brightened my world turned night into day death into life the stars they shine and they sparkle just like the sweetness of your smile a beautiful feeling to a wonderful person that you are you makes everyone better around you ur like gravity everything jus attracts to you ur a sweet heart angel with the most gentle of things ill always think highly of u an always love ya ur goodhearted girl
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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Buccaneers of love
Buccaneers of love
In the love legends
Not resembling the angels
But they are prophets of the hearts
Their revelation
The true love
The endless love
The renewed love
Appreciating love
Living for the love
Dying for the love
Buccaneers of love
Prophets of the hearts
Their souls are innocent
Swimming in the sky
To rain their dreams
And they are swimming
In space of the longing
To rain the hope
Buccaneers of love
Prophets of the hearts
Under hearts angles
They are shadowing
And they are sucking
The wine nectar
From lips of lovers
Not robbing the shyness
And not assassinating tears
Not hurting the feelings
Buccaneers of love
Prophets of the hearts
A toast of the evening
A toast of the morning
Adoring the evening
Adoring the morning
Coloring the seashores
With affections
Besieging the hearts
With feelings
Besieging the eyes
With beauty
Buccaneers of love
Prophets of the hearts
Waiting for the night
To feel with the warmth of chests
When the lips melt
And the bodies burn
For beginning love
Buccaneers of love
Prophets of the hearts
poem by Naji Almurisi
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A Dialogue Betwixt Cordanus And Amoret, On A Lost Heart
Cord. Distressed pilgrim, whose dark clouded eyes
Speak thee a martyr to love's cruelties,
Whither away?
Amor. What pitying voice I hear,
Calls back my flying steps?
Cord. Pr'ythee, draw near.
Amor. I shall but say, kind swain, what doth become
Of a lost heart, ere to Elysium
It wounded walks?
Cord. First, it does freely flye
Into the pleasures of a lover's eye;
But, once condemn'd to scorn, it fetter'd lies,
An ever-bowing slave to tyrannies.
Amor. I pity its sad fate, since its offence
Was but for love. Can tears recall it thence?
Cord. O no, such tears, as do for pity call,
She proudly scorns, and glories at their fall.
Amor. Since neither sighs nor tears, kind shepherd, tell,
Will not a kiss prevail?
Cord. Thou may'st as well
Court Eccho with a kiss.
Amor. Can no art move
A sacred violence to make her love?
Cord. O no! 'tis only Destiny or Fate
Fashions our wills either to love or hate.
Amor. Then, captive heart, since that no humane spell
Hath power to graspe thee his, farewell.
Cord. Farewell.
Cho. Lost hearts, like lambs drove from their folds by fears,
May back return by chance, but not by tears.]
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Mankind's Brewing Storm
I see everything clearly now. My tainted soul, saved only by grace has allowed me to see through the fog of lies. Men have conspired and won, or so it would seem. There is a terrible storm brewing overhead and will sweep many lives away. We had a select few giving warning to change our course before it becomes too late, but the masses didn't hear. Blind, deaf, and dumb like zombies walking over a thousand foot cliff, falling…falling…falling to a brutal death.
I write these things as if I were a spectator witnessing the greatest play performed of all time, recorded forever in history. I am powerless now to help stop the storm's course. I can only try to save myself and ones I love.
Devised by men, straight from the pits of hell, God has allowed my murky soul to see things many men do not. I dearly love my fellow man, I love human kind, and I wish the children afar did not cry from their stomach pains. This expression of love is foreign to me, but from the nature of God divine.
If God should not return after the storm has cleared, I pray the remaining victims would become vigilant and never allow such a tragedy for all human kind to ever occur again. Death is for old age, but lives cut short is the work of Satan.
I am unsure of what will become of me, or the ones I love. I think about everyone that has ever entered my life, my parents, my friends, lovers, and even the people I've passed on the street corner making eye contact for only a brief moment. What will become of them? Will they ever smile again? Will I ever hear the sounds of their voice anymore?
My strength is limited, my resources few. Of this lack, I am not sure if it can carry me through. However, my spirits are confident knowing that God will give me the wisdom to navigate this terrible catastrophe.
And in the end, when the clouds clear, our faces will look to the skies with tears. The sun will return and shine upon us, and its rays will wipe away every tear, and heal our sorrows. Hope will be restored once again into our hearts. We will go on, and birth a new generation. We will teach them the ways of our folly and arrogance. The only requirement we instill into our children is to never…never…never…repeat our mistakes ever again, but only leave our past as our history forever.
poem by Midnight Writer
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The Tears Of Amynta, For The Death Of Damon. A Song
1.
On a bank, beside a willow,
Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,
Sad Amynta sigh'd alone:
From the cheerless dawn of morning
Till the dews of night returning,
Singing thus she made her moan:
Hope is banish'd,
Joys are vanish'd,
Damon, my beloved, is gone!
2.
Time, I dare thee to discover
Such a youth and such a lover;
Oh, so true, so kind was he!
Damon was the pride of nature,
Charming in his every feature;
Damon lived alone for me;
Melting kisses,
Murmuring blisses:
Who so lived and loved as we?
3.
Never shall we curse the morning.
Never bless the night returning,
Sweet embraces to restore:
Never shall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, Love supplying
All the joys he drain'd before:
Death come end me,
To befriend me:
Love and Damon are no more
poem by John Dryden
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Anything For Your Love
By jerry lynn williams
Gods got a plan, hes making it clear
Sweet little love song in your ear
Like hearts made of diamond, love will prevail
Put a little wind in your sail
Id do anything, anything you can dream of
Id do anything, anything for your love
For your love
For your love
Listen now baby, Ill tell you true
Just how much that I love you
I got a sweet feelin I know is real
This kind of love you cant conceal
Chorus
Chorus
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Tell If Any Fate You See
O Tell if any fate you see
Can more unhappy prove
Than where the nymph will cruell be
& still the swain must love
Twere Joy to sigh & serve a fair
Coud sighs & service gain
But if they not availing are
they grow the lovers pain
Damon as thus he spoke his grief
Thought all around him pind
But Celia bringing no relief
He Car'd not what was kind
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Hidden Flame
I FEED a flame within, which so torments me
That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,
That I had rather die than once remove it.
Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on roses.
Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel,
My heart 's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel;
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.
On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me.
To be more happy I dare not aspire,
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.
poem by John Dryden
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A Dead Friend
I.
Gone, O gentle heart and true,
Friend of hopes foregone,
Hopes and hopeful days with you
Gone?
Days of old that shone
Saw what none shall see anew,
When we gazed thereon.
Soul as clear as sunlit dew,
Why so soon pass on,
Forth from all we loved and knew
Gone?
II.
Friend of many a season fled,
What may sorrow send
Toward thee now from lips that said
'Friend'?
Sighs and songs to blend
Praise with pain uncomforted
Though the praise ascend?
Darkness hides no dearer head:
Why should darkness end
Day so soon, O dear and dead
Friend?
III.
Dear in death, thou hast thy part
Yet in life, to cheer
Hearts that held thy gentle heart
Dear.
Time and chance may sear
Hope with grief, and death may part
Hand from hand's clasp here:
Memory, blind with tears that start,
Sees through every tear
All that made thee, as thou art,
Dear.
IV.
True and tender, single-souled,
What should memory do
Weeping o'er the trust we hold
True?
Known and loved of few,
But of these, though small their fold,
Loved how well were you!
Change, that makes of new things old,
Leaves one old thing new;
Love which promised truth, and told
True.
V.
Kind as heaven, while earth's control
Still had leave to bind
Thee, thy heart was toward man's whole
Kind.
Thee no shadows blind
Now: the change of hours that roll
Leaves thy sleep behind.
Love, that hears thy death-bell toll
Yet, may call to mind
Scarce a soul as thy sweet soul
Kind.
VI.
How should life, O friend, forget
Death, whose guest art thou?
Faith responds to love's regret,
How?
Still, for us that bow
Sorrowing, still, though life be set,
Shines thy bright mild brow.
Yea, though death and thou be met,
Love may find thee now
Still, albeit we know not yet
How.
VII.
Past as music fades, that shone
While its life might last;
As a song-bird's shadow flown
Past!
Death's reverberate blast
Now for music's lord has blown
Whom thy love held fast.
Dead thy king, and void his throne:
Yet for grief at last
Love makes music of his own
Past.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Forsaking My Love
I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth
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poem by Michael Silver
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Stanzas To Jessy
There is a mystic thread of life
So dearly wreath'd with mine alone,
That Destiny's relentless knife
At once must sever both, or none.
There is a Form on which these eyes
Have fondly gazed with such delight---
By day, that Form their joy supplies,
And Dreams restore it, through the night.
There is a Voice whose tones inspire
Such softened feelings in my breast,
I would not hear a Seraph Choir,
Unless that voice could join the rest.
There is a Face whose Blushes tell
Affection's tale upon the cheek,
But pallid at our fond farewell,
Proclaims more love than words can speak.
There is a Lip, which mine has prest,
But none had ever prest before;
It vowed to make me sweetly blest,
That mine alone should press it more.
There is a Bosom all my own,
Has pillow'd oft this aching head,
A Mouth which smiles on me alone,
An Eye, whose tears with mine are shed.
There are two Hearts whose movements thrill,
In unison so closely sweet,
That Pulse to Pulse responsive still
They Both must heave, or cease to beat.
There are two Souls, whose equal flow
In gentle stream so calmly run,
That when they part---they part?---ah no!
They cannot part---those Souls are One.
Oh How I love you!
My love I love you
I can't see anyone like you my love
You love is brightening my life
I love the way you look at me,
I love the way you care
My love I love you
I love your beautiful blue eyes
I love your soft lips.
I love you
Oh how I love you!
I do love you.
Love is emotion
Love is gentle
Love is divine
I love you more than words can,
explain.
I love you
Oh how I love you!
I do love you.
I love to hear your voice
I love it when your lips touch mine.
Love is passion
I need you my love
I love you
Oh how I love you!
I love you so much more,
Each and every day.
I love you
Oh how I love you!
poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
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Love Of Hearts
love of hearts.
love of hearts.
love of hearts.
love is a friendships,
love is in your eyes;
love is divine,
love is your lips,
when we love anyone should give a red rose.,
love at first sight,
makes a man happy and nice.
love a sweet dreams!
love as no boundaries
love demands sacrifice
love is a surprise which is
blessing in disguise...!
poem by Mohammed Yaseer
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