En.Citatepedia^®.ro

To Stella, Written On The Day Of Her Birth. March 13, 1723-4, But Not On The Subject, When I Was Sick In Bed

Tormented with incessant pains,
Can I devise poetic strains?
Time was, when I could yearly pay
My verse to Stella's native day:
But now unable grown to write,
I grieve she ever saw the light.
Ungrateful! since to her I owe
That I these pains can undergo.
She tends me like an humble slave;
And, when indecently I rave,
When out my brutish passions break,
With gall in every word I speak,
She with soft speech my anguish cheers,
Or melts my passions down with tears;
Although 'tis easy to descry
She wants assistance more than I;
Yet seems to feel my pains alone,
And is a stoic in her own.
When, among scholars, can we find
So soft and yet so firm a mind?
All accidents of life conspire
To raise up Stella's virtue higher;
Or else to introduce the rest
Which had been latent in her breast.
Her firmness who could e'er have known,
Had she not evils of her own?
Her kindness who could ever guess,
Had not her friends been in distress?
Whatever base returns you find
From me, dear Stella, still be kind.
In your own heart you'll reap the fruit,
Though I continue still a brute.
But, when I once am out of pain,
I promise to be good again;
Meantime, your other juster friends
Shall for my follies make amends;
So may we long continue thus,
Admiring you, you pitying us.

poem by Jonathan Swift
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Sonnet 52: A Strife Is Grown

A strife is grown between Virtue and Love,
While each pretends that Stella must be his:
Her eyes, her lips, her all, saith Love, do this
Since they do wear his badge, most firmly prove.

But Virtue thus that title doth disprove:
That Stella (oh dear name) that Stella is
That virtuous soul, sure heir of heav'nly bliss,
Not this fair outside, which our hearts doth move;

And therefore, though her beauty and her grace
Be Love's indeed, in Stella's self he may
By no pretense claim any manner place.

Well, Love, since this demur our suit will stay,
Let Virtue have that Stella's self; yet thus
That Virtue but that body grant to us.

poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet 57: Woe, Having Made With Many Fights

Woe, having made with many fights his own
Each sense of mine; each gift, each power of mind
Grown now his slaves, he forc'd them out to find
The thoroughest words, fit for Woe's self to groan,

Hoping that when they might find Stella alone,
Before she could prepare to be unkind,
Her soul, arm'd but with such a dainty rind,
Should soon be pierc'd with sharpness of the moan.

She heard my plaints, and did not only hear,
But them (so sweet is she) most sweetly sing,
With that fair breast making woe's darkness clear:

A pretty case! I hoped her to bring
To feel my griefs, and she with face and voice
So sweets my pains, that my pains me rejoice.

poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet XXIII: The Curious Wits

The curious wits seeing dull pensiveness
Bewray itself in my long settled eyes,
Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise,
With idle pains, and missing aim, do guess.

Some that know how my spring I did address,
Deem that my Muse some fruit of knowledge plies:
Others, because the Prince my service tries,
Think that I think state errors to redress.

But harder judges judge ambition's rage,
Scourge of itself, still climbing slipp'ry place,
Holds my young brain cativ'd in golden cage.

Oh Fools, or over-wise, alas the race
Of all my thoughts hath neither stop nor start,
But only Stella's eyes and Stella's heart.

poem by Philip Sidney
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Astrophel and Stella: XXIII

The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness
Bewray itself in my long-settl'd eyes,
Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise,
With idle pains and missing aim do guess.
Some, that know how my spring I did address,
Deem that my Muse some fruit of knowledge plies;
Others, because the prince my service tries,
Think that I think state errors to redress;
But harder judges judge ambition's rage--
Scourge of itself, still climbing slipp'ry place--
Holds my young brain captiv'd in golden cage.
O fool or over-wise! alas, the race
Of all my thoughts hath neither stop nor start
But only Stella's eyes and Stella's heart.

poem by Philip Sidney
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Stella Blue

All the years combine, they melt into a dream,
A broken angel sings from a guitar.
In the end theres just a song comes cryin up the night
Thru all the broken dreams and vanished years.
Stella blue. stella blue.
When all the cards are down, theres nothing left to see,
Theres just the pavement left and broken dreams.
In the end theres still that song comes cryin like the wind.
Down every lonely street thats ever been
Stella blue. stella blue.
Ive stayed in every blue-light cheap hotel, cant win for trying.
Dust off those rusty strings just one more time,
Gonna make them shine, shine
It all rolls into one and nothing comes for free,
Theres nothing you can hold, for very long.
And when you hear that song come crying like the wind,
It seems like all this life was just a dream.
Stella blue. stella blue.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Man Medicates His Pains Away

AN OLD MAN MEDICATES HIS PAINS AWAY

An old man medicates his pains away
He wants to live in his mind
As if his body can be temporarily forgotten-
He tries to be as he once was
Easy in the skin of himself -

But the pains the pains the pains
They come from different directions
They interrupt they remind they dismay
The pains the pains
They may go away for a time
But they don’t forget to sharpen again-

An old man does not want to think of his body as his enemy
He is no pure mind and does not dream to be
But the pains
When so many come at once
And when no medication can really put a stop to them-
They will defeat him -

Drugged into restless sleep
He will not be able to die without them.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sonnet 87: When I Was Forc'd From Stella

When I was forc'd from Stella, ever dear
Stella, food of my thoughts, heart of my heart;
Stella, whose eyes make all my tempests clear,
By iron laws of duty to depart:

Alas I found that she with me did smart;
I saw that tears did in her eyes appear;
I saw that sighs her sweetest lips did part,
And her sad words my saddest sense did hear.

For me, I wept to see pearls scatter'd so;
I sigh'd her sighs, and wailed for her woe,
Yet swam in joy, such love in her was seen.

Thus, while th'effect most bitter was to me,
And nothing than the couse more sweet could be,
I had been vex'd, if vex'd I had not been.

poem by Philip Sidney
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Stella And Flavia.

Stella and Flavia, ev'ry Hour,
Unnumber'd Hearts surprize:
In Stella's Soul lies all her Pow'r,
And Flavia's, in her Eyes.

More boundless Flavia's Conquests are,
And Stella's more confin'd:
All can discern a Face that's fair,
But few a lovely Mind.

Stella, like Britain's Monarch, reigns
O'er cultivated Lands;
Like Eastern Tyrants, Flavia deigns
To rule o'er barren Sands.

Then boast, fair Flavia, boast your Face,
Your Beauty's only Store:
Your Charms will ev'ry Day decrease,
Each Day gives Stella more.

poem by Mary Barber
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Sonnet 50: Stella, The Fullness Of My Thoughts

Stella, the fullness of my thoughts of thee
Cannot be stay'd within my panting breast,
But they do swell and struggle forth of me,
Till that in words thy figure be express'd.

And yet as soon as they so formed be,
According to my Lord Love's own behest:
With sad eyes I their weak proportion see,
To portrait that which in this world is best.

So that I cannot choose but write my mind,
And cannot choose but put out what I write,
While these poor babes their death in birth do find:

And now my pen these lines had dashed quite,
But that they stopp'd his fury from the same,
Because their forefront bare sweet Stella's name.

poem by Philip Sidney
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Stella’s Birth-Day.1719-20

All travellers at first incline
Where'er they see the fairest sign
And if they find the chambers neat,
And like the liquor and the meat,
Will call again, and recommend
The Angel Inn to every friend.
And though the painting grows decay'd,
The house will never lose its trade:
Nay, though the treach'rous tapster, Thomas,
Hangs a new Angel two doors from us,
As fine as daubers' hands can make it,
In hopes that strangers may mistake it,
We think it both a shame and sin
To quit the true old Angel Inn.
Now this is Stella's case in fact,
An angel's face a little crack'd.
(Could poets or could painters fix
How angels look at thirty-six
This drew us in at first to find
In such a form an angel's mind;
And every virtue now supplies
The fainting rays of Stella's eyes.
See, at her levee crowding swains,
Whom Stella freely entertains
With breeding, humour, wit, and sense,
And puts them to so small expense;
Their minds so plentifully fills,
And makes such reasonable bills,
So little gets for what she gives,
We really wonder how she lives!
And had her stock been less, no doubt
She must have long ago run out.
Then, who can think we'll quit the place,
When Doll hangs out a newer face?
Nail'd to her window full in sight
All Christian people to invite.
Or stop and light at Chloe's head,
With scraps and leavings to be fed?
Then, Chloe, still go on to prate
Of thirty-six and thirty-eight;
Pursue your trade of scandal-picking,
Your hints that Stella is no chicken;
Your innuendoes, when you tell us,
That Stella loves to talk with fellows:
But let me warn you to believe
A truth, for which your soul should grieve;
That should you live to see the day,
When Stella's locks must all be gray,
When age must print a furrow'd trace
On every feature of her face;
Though you, and all your senseless tribe,
Could Art, or Time, or Nature bribe,
To make you look like Beauty's Queen,
And hold for ever at fifteen;
No bloom of youth can ever blind
The cracks and wrinkles of your mind:
All men of sense will pass your door,
And crowd to Stella's at four-score.

poem by Jonathan Swift
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The Natural Beauty

To Stella:

Whether Stella's eyes are found
Fix'd on earth or glancing round,
If her face with pleasure glow,
If she sigh at others' woe,
If her easy air express
Conscious worth, or soft distress,
Stella's eyes and air and face
Charm with undiminish'd grace
If on her we see display'd
Pendent gems, and rich brocade,
If her chintz with less expense
Flows in easy negligence;
Still she lights the conscious flame,
Still her charms appear the same;
If she strikes the vocal strings,
If she's silent, speaks, or sings,
If she sit, or if she move,
Still we love, and still approve.
Vain the casual transient glance,
Which alone can please by chance,
Beauty, which depends on art,
Changing with the changing art,
Which demands the toilet's aid,
Pendent gems and rich brocade.
I those charms alone can prize,
Which from constant Nature rise,
Which nor circumstance nor dress
E'er can make or more or less.

poem by Samuel Johnson
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Sonnet 93: Oh Fate, Oh Fault

Oh fate, oh fault, oh curse, child of my bliss,
What sobs can give words grace my grief to show?
What ink is black enough to paint my woe?
Through me, wretch me, ev'n Stella vexed is.

Yet Truth (if caitiff's breath may call thee) this
Witness with me: that my foul stumbling so
From carelessness did in no manner grow,
But wit confus'd with too much care did miss.

And do I then myself this vain 'scuse give?
I have (live I and know this?) harmed thee;
Though worlds quite me, shall I myself forgive?

Only with pains my pains thus eased be,
That all thy hurts in my heart's wrack I read;
I cry thy sighs, my dear; thy tears I bleed.

poem by Philip Sidney
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Stella In Mourning

When lately Stella's form display'd
The beauties of the gay brocade,
The nymphs, who found their power decline,
Proclaim'd her not so fair as fine.
'Fate! snatch away the bright disguise,
And let the goddess trust her eyes.'
Thus blindly pray'd the fretful pair,
And Fate malicious heard the prayer;
But brighten'd by the sable dress,
As virtue rises in distress,
Since Stella still extends her reign,
Ah! how shall envy soothe her pain?
'Th' adoring youth and envious fair,
Henceforth shall form one common prayer
And love and hate alike implore
The skies - 'That Stella mourn no more.'

poem by Samuel Johnson
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To Stella Visiting Me in My Sickness

Pallas, observing Stella's wit
Was more than for her sex was fit,
And that her beauty, soon or late,
Might breed confusion in the state,
In high concern for human kind,
Fix'd honour in her infant mind.
But (not in wrangling to engage
With such a stupid, vicious age)
If honour I would here define,
It answers faith in things divine.
As natural life the body warms,
And, scholars teach, the soul informs,
So honour animates the whole,
And is the spirit of the soul.
Those numerous virtues which the tribe
Of tedious moralists describe,
And by such various titles call,
True honour comprehends them all.
Let melancholy rule supreme,
Choler preside, or blood, or phlegm,
It makes no difference in the case,
Nor is complexion honour's place.
But, lest we should for honour take
The drunken quarrels of a rake:
Or think it seated in a scar,
Or on a proud triumphal car;
Or in the payment of a debt
We lose with sharpers at piquet;
Or when a whore, in her vocation,
Keeps punctual to an assignation;
Or that on which his lordship swears,
When vulgar knaves would lose their ears;
Let Stella's fair example preach
A lesson she alone can teach.
In points of honour to be tried,
All passions must be laid aside:
Ask no advice, but think alone;
Suppose the question not your own.
How shall I act, is not the case;
But how would Brutus in my place?
In such a case would Cato bleed?
And how would Socrates proceed?
Drive all objections from your mind,
Else you relapse to human kind:
Ambition, avarice, and lust,
A factious rage, and breach of trust,
And flattery tipt with nauseous fleer,
And guilty shame, and servile fear,
Envy, and cruelty, and pride,
Will in your tainted heart preside.
Heroes and heroines of old,
By honour only were enroll'd
Among their brethren in the skies,
To which (though late) shall Stella rise.
Ten thousand oaths upon record
Are not so sacred as her word:
The world shall in its atoms end,
Ere Stella can deceive a friend.
By honour seated in her breast
She still determines what is best:
What indignation in her mind
Against enslavers of mankind!
Base kings, and ministers of state,
Eternal objects of her hate!
She thinks that nature ne'er design'd
Courage to man alone confined.
Can cowardice her sex adorn,
Which most exposes ours to scorn?
She wonders where the charm appears
In Florimel's affected fears;
For Stella never learn'd the art
At proper times to scream and start;
Nor calls up all the house at night,
And swears she saw a thing in white.
Doll never flies to cut her lace,
Or throw cold water in her face,
Because she heard a sudden drum,
Or found an earwig in a plum.
Her hearers are amazed from whence
Proceeds that fund of wit and sense;
Which, though her modesty would shroud,
Breaks like the sun behind a cloud;
While gracefulness its art conceals,
And yet through every motion steals.
Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind,
And, forming you, mistook your kind?
No; 'twas for you alone he stole
The fire that forms a manly soul;
Then, to complete it every way,
He moulded it with female clay:
To that you owe the nobler flame,
To this the beauty of your frame.
How would Ingratitude delight,
And how would Censure glut her spite,
If I should Stella's kindness hide
In silence, or forget with pride!
When on my sickly couch I lay,
Impatient both of night and day,
Lamenting in unmanly strains,
Call'd every power to ease my pains;
Then Stella ran to my relief,
With cheerful face and inward grief;
And, though by Heaven's severe decree
She suffers hourly more than me,
No cruel master could require,
From slaves employ'd for daily hire,
What Stella, by her friendship warm'd
With vigour and delight perform'd:
My sinking spirits now supplies
With cordials in her hands and eyes:
Now with a soft and silent tread
Unheard she moves about my bed.
I see her taste each nauseous draught,
And so obligingly am caught;
I bless the hand from whence they came,
Nor dare distort my face for shame.
Best pattern of true friends! beware;
You pay too dearly for your care,
If, while your tenderness secures
My life, it must endanger yours;
For such a fool was never found,
Who pull'd a palace to the ground,
Only to have the ruins made
Materials for a house decay'd.

poem by Jonathan Swift
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Pains Of Predjudice

I have experienced pain
Undeserving and vivid pain
Pains of rejection and pains prejudice
Pain when my rights were wronged.
Pains while others endure undue harm

My heart aches, my mind bruised
From pains of emotional abuse.
I have seen and experienced it
Read about it, still living it.
Pains of prejudice.

poem by C. Albert Andrews
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Life and Its Sadnesses Does Not Leave Me

LIFE AND ITS SADNESSES DOES NOT LEAVE ME

Life and its sadnesses does not leave me-
Quiet I hear and know
Pains of others pains of friends
Time’s wounds
I cannot heal-

Blessed now I painless walk through the world
Sadness is something else -
Pains of others are their pains not mine
Why should I be blessed
When others my age suffer so now?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Life Is What You Make It!

What you feel
What you think
i know that i don't know...
What you like
What you dislike...
i confess that i can't guess...
Yet i find
your stony heart
is rocky hard
To fairies' hymns
And mermaids' songs;
chirping birds;
To gardens' charms and smiling buds;
but i know
this life is tough
And full of pains n spiky thorns...
so close your eyes
And do realize
To make this life:
soft and rosy,
sweet and cozy,,
you should change
your frame of mind,
And be at once
So nice and kind...! ! !

poem by Shahzia Batool
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Your Home Is In My Heart (Stella's Love Theme) (feat. Chante Moore)

[Mike:] Don't be afraid, love has no age.
[Chorus 1:] Even from across the sea (so far across the sea)
I can hear you calling me (baby come to me)
Destiny controls the air (no matter where you are)
Dream and dare to love again (your home is in my heart)
[Verse 1:]
[Nate:] I know the way I feel bout you won't pass, yes it's going to last and stand the test of time.
[Shawn:] So your search for love is about to end. Your future hold, a place where true love begins.
[Mike:] I'll be right there.
[Shawn:] Even
[Repeat Chorus 1]
[Verse 2: ]
[Shawn:] Take a romantic journey, just start in the beginning, you won't no where you're going til you're there.
[Nate:] Is it just physical or is it lasting love, please don't give up, we won't know unless we try.
[Ad Libs:]
[Shawn:] So Far
[Repeat Chorus 1]
[Tag:] Mike talking: Oh Love that's what dreams are made of, love is all you have, you need me baby
Don't be afraid (don't be afraid, don't be afraid) to love (to love, to love) to love
[Chorus 2:] Even from across the sea (so far across the sea)
I can hear you calling me (I hear you calling me)
Destiny controls the air (no matter where you are)
Dream and dare to love again (your home is in my...)
[Chorus 3:] So far away (far across the sea) I can hear you calling me (My Stella's calling me)
[Wanya overlapping:] Stella, Stella
Destiny controls the air (no matter where you are)
Dream and dare to love again (your home is in my heart)
Oh Oh OOOOOh
[Ad Libs [Overlapping]]
[Mike:] Stella, no matter where you are, no matter how far you go...
[Wanya:] Stella
[Mike:] I'll be there.
[Wanya:] Stella
[Shawn:] And ever
[Chante:] Forever baby
[Wanya:] Stella
[Chante:] Forever baby
[Shawn:] And ever
[Nate:] Ohhhh
[Wanya:] Stella
[Shawn:] And ever
[Nate & Wan:] Ohhhh--OOOOOh
[Shawn:] And ever
[Wanya:] You mean the world to me
[Chante:] I love you baby
[Shawn:] I love you so much baby
[Wanya:] I love you
[Chante:] Baby I love you
[Wanya:] I love you, I love you
[Chante:] Baby I love you
[Wanya:] I love you
[Shawn:] Now I realize you are my everything
[Wanya:] Stella
[Chante:] My everything
[Shawn:] Yeah
[Wanya:] Ohhhhh

song performed by by Boyz II Men
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Torments of love

There are moments in life

when you feel like to cry

and don’t really know why.

Your destiny gives you chances

to satisfy your fancies

But they are not always a success,

sometimes even a stress.

Yes, you splash out emotions

like an angry ocean a whale.

But what remains in your soul?

Is it just a growl?

You have already been indifferent to him,

it seemed.

But he still remains in your mind

And you try to find

The reason to forget him.

Were you just blind?

You want to leave everything behind

and ask your mind to be so kind to forget.

You beg your heart

to release your torments,

to forget all his comments.

You ask your mind

to be in contact with your heart

and not always be apart.

All your actions were unmeant,

all you wanted the love to send.

Now you are trying to forget,

but you can’t,

Then you think: Oh, yes! He had a grant.

You try to find his negative features

for your lonely creature.

You try to release your mind

but he still remains in your soul

playing the main role

in all your night dreams,

and it seems he is still everything to you,

it is so difficult to say adieu.

You had time to think how to keep him,

how to reap the fruits of love,

or may be to stay in good relations,

so that to avoid the separation,

or may be remain friends,

it could be a good amends.

But…your heart pains and the dreams remain.

Nothing you can change,

Nothing to arrange.

You did all to estrange your love.

The words I have said above

Are not for all.

It is just her little squall.

Now she is all alone.

Living on her own

somehow she will survive

and one day probably die.

Here I sigh and tell you good bye,

finishing this crazy lie.

Larisa Rzipishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Heart Of Iron

Heart of iron (11/3/11)

The sky was blackening on this autumn day
The white clouds were moving quickly away
The sun had ceased to shine
And sounds of thunder was rolling by.

I tried grabbing her as we ran across
The white sands of the beach
But she was too fast and out of my reach.
Too many worries, too many fears
Now it’s time to wipe away your tears

You’ve been crying for too long
With happiness is where you belong.
Too many sad times that you’ve been through
Now it’s time to play dirty too.

I will teach you to have a heart of iron
A soul of steel - no more aches and pains will you feel.
So much pain that you had gone thru
And on no one will you rely,
for you Will be cold and dead inside.

But by doing this I closed myself off to her
And that she would never see, all the love
That I have within me.
My heart, my mind, my deep soul
She will never be able to hold.

Now I am going thru the pains
Will I ever feel the same?
Will she someday come to see
That she is a big part of me.

Will I have to close my heart
As I did from the start?
I have to have her next to me
If only friends we be.

poem by Louis Rams
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