If the Heart of a Man
If the heart of a man is deprest with cares,
The mist is dispell'd when a woman appears;
Like the notes of a fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly
Raises the spirits, and charms our ears.
Roses and lillies her cheeks disclose,
But her ripe lips are more sweet than those.
Press her,
Caress her,
With blisses,
Her kisses
Dissolve us in pleasure, and soft repose
Related quotes
Fly, Love, aloft
Fly, Love, aloft to heav'n and look out Fortune,
Then sweetly, sweetly, sweetly her importune,
That I from my Calisto best beloved
As you and she set down be never moved.
And, Love, to Carimel see you commend me,
Fortune for his sweet sake may chance befriend me.
poem by John Wilbye
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Natural Magic
There is nothing like the natural magic of my love's heart
Beating through her palm and into mine
Transferring the sound of silence's sweet part
Singing to mine silent heart, so sweetly refine
The simplest instrument, which says so much
Sauntering sweetly, hand in hand
With art hearts so tightly clutched
In each other's love, our destiny did so sweetly land
The eager heart, throbbing love we make
Our clasp, a chain that will never break
For love but more than that
Our love's sake
Singing passion, incredible love, as our hands, our hearts, we doth both take.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Bed Of Roses
Under the bed of roses we find peace,
Where we stand in heavenly habits finding it;
The roses are never crushed for all of us,
The roses sweetly remember us on this day.
This truth is overpowering me for love and life,
This truth has cancelled my objective,
For I like dozens of flowers and plants
That are subject to the test of loyalty.
May we all wear this bed of roses
In the effort to conceal our crime.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Joy if Church Fellowship Rightly Attended
In heaven soaring up, I dropped an ear
On earth: and Oh, sweet melody:
And listening, found it was the saints who were
Encroached for Heaven that sang for joy.
For in Christ's coach they sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.
Oh, joyous hearts! Enfired with holy flame!
Is speech thus tassled with praise?
Will not your inward fire of joy contain:
That it in open flames doth blaze?
For in Christ's coach saints sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.
And if a string do slip by chance, they soon
Do screw it up again, whereby
They set it in a more melodious tune
And a diviner harmony.
For in Christ's coach they sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.
In all their acts, public and private, nay,
And secret too, they praise impart.
But in their acts divine and worship, they
With hymns do offer up their heart.
Thus in Christ's coach they sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.
Some few not in; and some whose time and place
Block up this coach's way do go
As travelers afoot, and so do trace
The road that gives them right thereto,
While in this coach these sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.
poem by Edward Taylor
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To Muriel: at the Opera
Roses and rose-buds, red and white,
Nestled between your breasts to-night,
And, lying there with drowsy breath,
Sweetly resigned themselves to death.
Ah, cruel child! that would not so
Suffer the perfumed life to go,
But, hungering for the rose's heart
Of midmost sweetness, plucked apart
Petal from petal: 'Ah!' you said
(With lips that kissed white roses red)
'To live on love and roses!'
Well,
But if the rose were Muriel?
poem by Arthur Symons
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0273 Something A Song Sing Cummings
if loveliness
says sweetly Yes
says who poets’
poetness?
worthwords,
spearshake,
art forsaken art
a now world,
with here you,
in our all,
whose heart?
if loveliness
says sweetly Yes
says who poets’
poetness?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Modern Love XXXII: Full Faith I Have
Full faith I have she holds that rarest gift
To beauty, Common Sense. To see her lie
With her fair visage an inverted sky
Bloom-covered, while the underlids uplift,
Would almost wreck the faith; but when her mouth
(Can it kiss sweetly? sweetly!) would address
The inner me that thirsts for her no less,
And has so long been languishing in drouth,
I feel that I am matched; that I am man!
One restless corner of my heart or head,
That holds a dying something never dead,
Still frets, though Nature giveth all she can.
It means, that woman is not, I opine,
Her sex's antidote. Who seeks the asp
For serpent's bites? 'Twould calm me could I clasp
Shrieking Bacchantes with their souls of wine!
poem by George Meredith
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Whats Within My Heart
Will I never see again
The smiling faces of my friends
Could it be theyve gone completely
And though thoughts will linger
Sweetly in my heart
May I hear once more
The bird calls my name
May I be permitted just one friend
To share my game
The one who doesnt give a damn
For what I seem to be
And really cares for what I am and
Whats within my heart
I believe the sun will shine
And I know that given time
The leaves will blow tumble and
Cry upon the autumn stone below
And my heart grows tired each day
As the sun grow cold
Weary uninspired each day
Til the story is told
You gave your love to one
Who only wants
What you seem to be
And doesnt really care for you or
Whats within your heart
On my grave lay one black rose
Do this for me but dont suppose
Because Im gone, my soul is dead
For Ill be here in spirit
And our love once more
There must be a heart somewhere
In need of the love I have
That will reach out in sincerety and
Take my life in hand
Then Ill know its not some one
Who wants just what I seem to be
The one who cares
For what I am and
Whats within my heart
Whats within my heart ...
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweetly Sings the Thrush
Sweetly sings the thrush
among the meadows fair.
All whose senses hear her
wish to wander there.
To be in tune with her fair voice
brings joy into your heart.
She sings of love for what she sees
of which you are a part.
Sweetly sings the thrush
before the night has come.
All the creatures of the day
are saddened when she's done.
To hear the silence of the night
you must wait for another ‘morrow.
For her song that permeates the air
to take away your sorrow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Song #10.
The dew fell on her upturned brow
That is as white's the lily;
The moonlight in her yellow hair,
In her hand a daffodilly;
The violet's perfume in her breath,
Her cheeks like roses grew,
And as I prest her milky hand
I murmured, 'I love you!'
She looked at me with eyes that shone
Like stars among the roses,
While my heart like a dream-bird sang
Quick in the dewy closes;
And with a tone that sweetly thrill'd
The while I held her hand,
She whispered, 'I have loved you long,
And now I understand.'
poem by Robert Crawford
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Ears are sensuous.
Ears are as much a part
In sexual stimuli
Of a woman’s facial beauty.
Who cares?
Even poets underplay them.
Lobes with no jewels on
Make women look barren.
Observe
Ears play hidden kicks.
Ear ornaments are the first pick
For a woman to be bejeweled.
Give a kiss on her ears’ back.
It is more than one on her lips.
26.04.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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We Are A People Of Peace
Sir?
There is an elderly woman,
Carrying what appears to be roses...
On the battlefield.
'That's preposterous.'
No sir?
It is not a rhinoceros.
'I said preposterous.
Like a hippopotamus.'
Sir...
What we see is not anonymous.
We all see it is a woman.
What shall we do with the roses?
Sir?
Sir?
'I'm not getting paid enough.'
Sir?
Will you make a decision.
That's all we ask.
'I would love to tell you where to put them? '
We are closing in on a nearby town.
We could ask if the woman would like us,
To locate a vase?
This will prove to everyone,
We are a people of peace.
'What is going on?
WHAT IS GOING ON?
Has EVERYONE gone mad? '
No sir.
We all are very calm.
It is a little hot.
You are the only one shouting.
Maybe the heat is beginning to affect you?
Perhaps you've been on too many missions of peace?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Oh, Pretty Woman
Oh, pretty woman strolling down city streets
You change my thoughts, my heart throbs beat, beat
Oh, nymph of downwards smile and sidelong glance
In what diviner moments of the night or the day
Are you most lovely I wonder? Is it when you go astray
In this city maze of paths and parks with labyrinths of human utterance?
Oh, pretty woman, is it when serenely wandering in a trance
Of sober divine thoughts, or when or when starting away
With careless red robe to meet the first morning ray
You out do the flowers in your hazy mazy dance?
Oh, nymph when your ruby voluptuous lips part so sweetly
To please the ears of men as a whole sound completely
Is it not more gentle than a wind in summer
What can be more soothing than your harmonious hummer?
(2010)
Ye that do live in pleasures
Ye that do live in pleasures plenty,
and dwell in Music's sweetest Airs,
whose eyes are quick, whose ears are dainty,
not clogg'd with earth or worldly cares,
come sing this song, made in Amphion's praise,
who now is dead, yet you his fame can raise.
Call him again, let him not die,
but live in Music's sweetest breath;
place him in fairest memory,
and let him triumph over death.
O sweetly sung, his living wish attend ye.
These were his words, 'The mirth of heav'n God send ye.'
poem by John Wilbye
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Love Speaks Sweetly (Palindrome)
Love speaks sweetly,
“I love all of you,
Heart and Soul,
Beautiful and Bright.”
Everywhere love is,
Love says forever.
Forever says love,
Is love everywhere?
“Bright and Beautiful,
Soul and Heart,
You of all love I”
Sweetly speaks love.
(Now read from the last word
to the first)
© Sunday, December 25,2011
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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Page Five
Written by: david henman
Ive been thinking about you
And I know you think of me too
And I only just met you
And I really dont know you
I can tell that you like me
Does it show that I like you too
Cause I only just met you
And I really dont know you
Smiling sweetly
Sweetly softly
So young and free
Take what you need cause theres nothing left
Take what you need cause theres nothing left
Take what you need cause theres nothing left
To see
Now its 5 a.m. and look at me
Dawn is here and I still can not sleep
I just lie here writing songs for you
Sleep softly while I write these words
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tenderly
(l. stansfield/i. devaney/a. morris)
Words have been spoken my heart has been broken
But maybe not this time
Not with you and me
Levels understanding has always been nowhere to be seen
But maybe not this time
Dont hurt my heart
Dont try too hard to be big and strong
Just sweetly release me
Chorus:
No rough hands can satisfy me
Baby I bruise easily
So feel it from the heart
And when you love me
Love me tenderly
Fell it from the heart
And when you love me
Love me tenderly
Loving has hurt me
Deceived and spurned me
But maybe not this time
cos that was in the past
How Ive been scared
To put my trust in something good that may not last
But baby not this time
I know you wont hurt my heart
You wont try too hard to be big and strong
Just sweetly make love to me
Chorus
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring Morning II
Willie.
Roget, droop not, see the spring
Is the earth enamelling,
And the birds on every tree
Greet this morn with melody:
Hark, how yonder thrustle chants it,
And her mate as proudly vants it
See how every stream is dress'd
By her margin with the best
Of Flora's gifts; she seems glad
For such brooks such flow'rs she had.
All the trees are quaintly tired
With green buds, of all desired;
And the hawthorn every day
Spreads some little show of May:
See the primrose sweetly set
By the much-lov'd violet,
All the banks do sweetly cover,
As they would invite a lover
With his lass to see their dressing
And to grace them by their pressing:
Yet in all this merry tide
When all cares are laid aside,
Roget sits as if his blood
Had not felt the quick'ning good
Of the sun, nor cares to play,
Or with songs to pass the day
As he wont: fie, Roget, fie,
Raise thy head, and merrily
Tune us somewhat to thy reed:
See our flocks do freely feed,
Here we may together sit,
And for music very fit
Is this place; from yonder wood
Comes an echo shrill and good,
Twice full perfectly it will
Answer to thine oaten quill.
Roget, droop not then, but sing
Some kind welcome to the spring.
poem by William Browne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Power Of Woman
Mighty art thou, because of the peaceful charms of thy presence;
That which the silent does not, never the boastful can do.
Vigor in man I expect, the law in its honors maintaining,
But, through the graces alone, woman e'er rules or should rule.
Many, indeed, have ruled through the might of the spirit and action,
But then thou noblest of crowns, they were deficient in thee.
No real queen exists but the womanly beauty of woman;
Where it appears, it must rule; ruling because it appears!
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Quiet Beauty
Quiet beauty
as she walks past me
peace and quiet
in the nestling heart
days are roses
fragrant all around me
nights like satin
smoothing with their lights
raindrops calling
sweetly on the window
their song is heard
many miles apart
my soul's longing
caged in all its sorrow
whispering freely
through this poem's lines
poem by Amber Breeeze
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