Song
Why Damon, why, why, why so pressing?
The Heart you beg's not worth possessing:
Each Look, each Word, each Smile's affected,
And inward Charms are quite neglected:
Then scorn her, scorn her, foolish Swain,
And sigh no more, no more in vain.
Beauty's worthless, fading, flying;
Who would for Trifles think of dying?
Who for a Face, a Shape, wou'd languish,
And tell the Brooks, and Groves his Anguish,
Till she, till she thinks fit to prize him,
And all, and all beside despise him?
Fix, fix your Thoughts on what's inviting,
On what will never bear the slighting:
Wit and Virtue claim your Duty,
They're much more worth that Gold and Beauty:
To them, to them, your Heart resign,
And you'll no more, no more repine.
poem by Lady Mary Chudleigh
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Related quotes
The Vanity of Wealth
No more thus brooding o'er yon heap,
With avarice painful vigils keep:
Still unenjoy'd the present store,
Still endless sighs are breathed for more.
O! quit the shadow, catch the prize,
Which not all India's treasure buys!
To purchase with heaven has gold the power?
Can gold remove the mortal hour?
In life can love be bought with gold?
Are friendship's pleasures to be sold?
No! - all that's worth a wish - a thought,
Fair virtue gives unbribed, unbought,
Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind,
Let noble views engage thy mind.
With science tread the wondrous way,
Or learn the Muses' moral lay;
In social hours indulge thy soul,
Where mirth and temperance mix the bowl;
To virtuous love resign thy breast,
And be, by blessing beauty, - bless'd.
Thus taste the feast by Nature spread,
Ere youth and all its joys are fled;
Come taste with me the balm of life,
Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife.
I boast whate'er for man was meant,
In health, and Stella, and content;
And scorn! (oh! let that scorn be thine!)
Mere things of clay, that dig the mine.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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Beauty In You Boils Like Wine Yet You Are So Divine
You are eternal so is love
Everything is for change but not beauty of my love..
Beauty in you is admired by all
Here i'm as adorable not for all..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is you that's true
Honey.. it's true mirror never lies you..
I never lie but can lie for you and
For your happiness can die for you..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is sacred so are you
Beauty is priceless so in you
You are precious but not for the world
Can bet anything to make you my world
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beautiful is you not my life
Your beauty is immortal not my eyes
Oh Mine...
Your beauty is the way to heaven
Show me way to your heart which is next to seven..
Take me the way i am and
make me the way you want..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
You are my love worth to die for
You are my freedom worth to fight for..
I made my guts to compromise
Beauty in you is worth a sacrifice..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
My words can sail but are not for sale
Can sacrifice in love to make you my fairy tale..
This song of mine is only for you my sunshine
I can sing this song specially for you my divine..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
I've signed your name on each dropp of my sweat and
Will dream of you till the last day of my breath..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine..
poem by Dr Vinay Sirigere
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Undesired Revenge
Sorrow and sin have worked their will
For years upon your sovereign face,
And yet it keeps a faded trace
Of its unequalled beauty still,
As ruined sanctuaries hold
A crumbled trace of perfect mould
In shrines which saints no longer fill.
I knew you in your splendid morn,
Oh, how imperiously sweet!
I bowed and worshipped at your feet,
And you received my love with scorn.
Now I scorn you. It is a change,
When I consider it, how strange
That you, not I, should be forlorn.
Do you suppose I have no pain
To see you play this sorry part,
With faded face and broken heart,
And life lived utterly in vain?
Oh would to God that you once more
Might scorn me as you did of yore,
And I might worship you again!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Troilus And Cressida
Can life be a blessing,
Or worth the possessing,
Can life be a blessing if love were away?
Ah no! though our love all night keep us waking,
And though he torment us with cares all the day,
Yet he sweetens, he sweetens our pains in the taking,
There's an hour at the last, there's an hour to repay.
In ev'ry possessing,
The ravishing blessing,
In ev'ry possessing the fruit of our pain,
Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish,
Whate'er they have suffer'd and done to obtain;
'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure to sigh and to languish,
When we hope, when we hope to be happy again.
poem by John Dryden
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Can life be a blessing
Can life be a blessing,
Or worth the possessing,
Can life be a blessing if love were away?
Ah no! though our love all night keep us waking,
And though he torment us with cares all the day,
Yet he sweetens, he sweetens our pains in the taking,
There's an hour at the last, there's an hour to repay.
In ev'ry possessing,
The ravishing blessing,
In ev'ry possessing the fruit of our pain,
Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish,
Whate'er they have suffer'd and done to obtain;
'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure to sigh and to languish,
When we hope, when we hope to be happy again.
poem by John Dryden
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Elegy XXIV. He Takes Occasion, From the Fate of Eleanor of Bretagne
He Takes Occasion, From the Fate of Eleanor of Bretagne, To Suggest the Imperfect Pleasures of a Solitary Life.
When Beauty mourns, by Fate's injurious doom,
Hid from the cheerful glance of human eye,
When Nature's pride inglorious waits the tomb,
Hard is that heart which checks the rising sigh.
Fair Eleonora! would no gallant mind,
The cause of Love, the cause of Justice, own?
Matchless thy charms, and was no life resign'd
To see them sparkle from their native throne?
Or had fair Freedom's hand unveil'd thy charms,
Well might such brows the regal gem resign;
Thy radiant mien might scorn the guilt of arms,
Yet Albion's awful empire yield to thine.
O shame of Britons! in one sullen tower
She wet with royal tears her daily cell;
She found keen anguish every rose devour;
They sprung, they shone, they faded, and they fell.
Through one dim lattice, fringed with ivy round,
Successive suns a languid radiance threw,
To paint how fierce her angry guardian frown'd,
To mark how fast her waning beauty flew.
This, age might bear; then sated Fancy palls,
Nor warmly hopes what splendour can supply;
Fond Youth incessant mourns if rigid walls
Restrain its listening ear, its curious eye.
Believe me -- the pretence is vain!
This boasted calm that smooths our early day;
For never yet could youthful mind restrain
The alternate pant for pleasure and for praise.
Even me, by shady oak or limpid spring,
Even me, the scenes of polish'd life allure!
Some genius whispers, 'Life is on the wing,
And hard his lot that languishes obscure.
'What though thy riper mind admire no more-
The shining cincture, and the broider'd fold,
Can pierce like lightning thorough the figured ore,
And melt to dross the radiant forms of gold.
'Furs, ermines, rods, may well attract thy scorn,
The futile presents of capricious Power!
But wit, but worth, the public sphere adorn,
And who but envies then the social hour?
'Can Virtue, careless of her pupil's meed,
Forget how -- sustains the shepherd's cause?
Content in shades to tune a lonely reed,
Nor join the sounding pæan of applause?
For public haunts, impell'd by Britain's weal,
See Grenville quit the Muse's favourite ease;
And shall not swains admire his noble zeal?
Admiring praise, admiring strive to please?
'Life,' says the sage, 'affords no bliss sincere,
And courts and cells in vain our hopes renew:
But, ah! where Grenvile charms the listening ear,
'Tis hard to think the cheerless maxim true.
'The groves may smile; the rivers gently glide;
Soft through the vale resound the lonesome lay;
Even thickets yield delight, if taste preside,
But can they please, when Lyttleton's away?
'Pure as the swain's the breast of -- glows;
Ah! were the shepherd's phrase, like his, refined!
But, how improved the generous dictate flows
Through the clear medium of a polish'd mind!
'Happy the youths who, warm with Britain's love,
Her inmost wish in -- periods hear!
Happy that in the radiant circle move,
Attendant orbs, where Lonsdale gilds the sphere!
'While rural faith, and every polish'd art,
Each friendly charm, in -- conspire,
From public scenes all pensive must you part;
All joyless to the greenest fields retire!
'Go, plaintive Youth! no more by fount or stream,
Like some lone halcyon, social pleasures shun;
Go, dare the light, enjoy its cheerful beam,
And hail the bright procession of the sun.
'Then, cover'd by thy ripen'd shades, resume
The silent walk, no more by passion tost;
Then seek thy rustic haunts, the dreary gloom,
Where every art, that colours life, is lost.'
In vain! the listening Muse attends in vain!
Restraints in hostile bands her motions wait-
Yet will I grieve, and sadden all my strain,
When injured Beauty mourns the Muse's fate.
poem by William Shenstone
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He Ain't Worth Missing
He's flying high tonight
He's got a brand new lover
Here you come a-runnin'
You're looking for some cover
I know you're sad and lonely
I know you're feeling blue
You miss him so much
Won't let me get to close to you
Oh he ain't worth missin'
Oh we should be kissin'
Stop all this foolish wishin'
He ain't worth missin'
I know your head is turnin'
I know your heart is burnin'
Girl you gotta listen
Don't you know he ain't worth missin'
You know I'm here to save you
But you ain't through cryin' yet
Look at your pretty face
All red and soakin' wet
I'm gonna try and make him
Just a memory
Come on baby let's get started
First thing you got to see
Oh he ain't worth missin'
Oh we should be kissin'
Stop all this foolish wishin'
He ain't worth missin'
I know your head is turnin'
I know your heart is burnin'
Girl you gotta listen
Don't you know he ain't worth missin'
If you need someone to hold you
Someone to ease your pain
Well I'll be holding steady
Girl when you get ready
I'm gonna show you
Love is a good thing
Yeah love is a good thing
Oh he ain't worth missin'
Oh we should be kissin'
Stop all that foolish wishin'
Ooh the boy ain't worth missin'
I know your head is turnin'
I know your heart is burnin'
Girl you gotta listen
Don't you know he ain't worth missin'
Oh he ain't worth missin'
Oh we should be kissin'
Stop all that foolish wishin'
He ain't worth missin'
I know your head is turnin'
I know your heart is burnin'
Girl you gotta listen
song performed by by Toby Keith from Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Missing
Sharp disaster in a fresh new coma
Was worth it when it was over
Proving yourself right
You'd make the biggest noise
Well I'd lock my hands behind my head
I'd cover my heart and hit the deck
I'd brace myself for the impact if I were you
(Its a long wait) is there anything
(For an answer) worth looking for
(Is there any news) worth loving for
(Is there any word) worth lying for
(Is there trauma) is there anything
(Or a struggle) worth waiting for
(Am I missing) worth living for
(Was the body found) worth dying for
song performed by by Dashboard Confessional
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Splattered
Pay for [Me] to go
Live to die city grave
Found that life wont pay
With...
What's wrong with your mind
Kill thoughts set Me...
I dont care to go
Just leave Me to die
Face scorn live for dying
Face scorn to be as one
We fall and set for discard
Do what the numbers say
To see the ways and forces
They like to see Me die
... like riches for
Step forth to be my lord
To be my lord
... reach his fall
Set for to be My...
Even need time to spill
...
We found the killing bone
...
Found to expose the waste
Disrespecting future change
Face scorn live for dying
Face scorn to be as one
We fall and set for discard
Do what the numbers say
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Aint Worth Missing
(toby keith)
Hes flying high tonight
Hes got a brand new lover
Here you come a-runnin
Youre looking for some cover
I know youre sad and lonely
I know youre feeling blue
You miss him so much
Oh let me get to close to you
Oh, he aint worth missing
Oh, we should be kissing
Stop all this foolish wishing
He aint worth missing
I know your head is turning
I know your heart is burning
Girl, you gotta listen
Dont you know he aint worth missing
You know Im here to save you
But you aint through crying yet
Look at your pretty face
All red and soaking wet
Im gonna try and make him
Just a memory
Come on baby, lets get started
First thing you got to see
Oh, he aint worth missing
Oh, we should be kissing
Stop all this foolish wishing
He aint worth missing
I know your head is turning
I know your heart is burning
Girl, you gotta listen
Dont you know he aint worth missing
If you need someone to hold you
Someone to ease your pain
Well, Ill be holding steady
Girl when you get ready
Im gonna show you
Love is a good thing
Oh, he aint worth missing
Oh, we should be kissing
Stop all this foolish wishing
He aint worth missing
I know your head is turning
I know your heart is burning
Girl, you gotta listen
Dont you know he aint worth missing
Oh, he aint worth missing
Oh, we should be kissing
Stop all this foolish wishing
He aint worth missing
I know your head is turning
I know your heart is burning
Girl, you gotta listen
Dont you know he aint worth missing
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Elegy, to Laura
Too heedless friend, why thus augment the flame
That glows resistless in my beating breast?
Why with thy praises grace his fatal name,
Who robs thy Emma's hapless heart of rest?
Why needest thou dwell on Henry's graceful ease;
Why praise the timid worth his glance reveals;
Why speak enraptured of his power to please,
Whose power to wound my aching bosom feels?
Say not, "That gentle voice was formed for love,"
Nor in his eyes such sweet expression see;
Say not, that tenderness those glances prove,
Which never fix with tenderness on me.
Too well my Henry's charms I've numbered o'er,
And thus to end the fond survey is mine:
His heart will own some brighter fair one's power;
Think not, lost Emma, he can e'er be thine.
Yet why despair? Though Beauty's boasted rose
On others' cheeks in livelier colours shine,
The tender heart that in my bosom glows
The palm of fondness will to none resign.
Though brighter radiance beams in others' eyes,
By shape, by colour formed the soul to steal;
If Love's expression Henry's heart can prize,
Then, Henry's heart the power of mine must feel.
Yet vain the hope: "Fond maid, thy love suppress,"
Calm Reason cries; "go, learn to check the sigh:
But, if resolved to love in rash excess,
Seek out some lonely shade, despair, and die!"
Then, Laura, bid to Henry's praise farewel!
Forget his merit, and my hopeless flame;
On the dear theme no more ill-judging dwell,
And from thy memory blot his fatal name.
But if I urge this plaintive prayer in vain,
Bid execrations on that name attend;
And him, my Laura, view with cold disdain,
Who sees unmoved the sorrows of thy friend.
Say, such the scorn, the pride of Henry's breast,
It cannot Love's endearing softness share,
Say, vice degrades....Hold! slight my wild request,
Nor by such calumny my fury dare.
No....from my frantic wishes still appeal,
Declare that Henry is from error free;
Or the keen hate for him I bade thee feel,
My wayward heart will learn to feel for thee.
poem by Amelia Opie
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To a Lady who (though Married) could not endure Love should be made to any but her Self.
Say, jealous
Phillida
, what Humor's this?
No Shepherd can bestow a Smile or Kiss
On any Nymph, but you must pout and vex:
Would you Monopolize the Masc'line Sex?
Is not the sprightly
Damon's
heart Your Prize,
Securely bound by
Hymen's
(1) Sacred ties?
Strephon
and
Colon
, your Adorers are,
And bashful
Cleon
does your Fetters wear:
Young
Coridon
did by your Beauty fall;
Insatiate Nymph! would you engross them All?
Who doth not smile, to see what Pains you take
To watch our private Meetings, and to make
Our Amours public? and if your list'ning Ear
By chance soft Amorous Discourses hear,
Then raging Mad: with Jealousy and Pride,
You curse the Shepherds, and the Nymphs you chide.
But why thus Angry? if we entertain
The Heart and Love of some poor humble Swain,
Who never his cheap Thoughts so high durst lift,
As to present you with so mean a Gift;
What wrong have you? why should you break your Rest,
If they to us present a
Linnet's
(2) Nest,
A Wreath of Flowers, or a Bunch of Grapes,
Filberts, or Strawberries, or the Roots of Rapes?(3)
When Lambs and Kids, are daily offered you
By the great Swains, that for your favor sue;
If any Shepherdess so bold dare be,
T'invade thy Right, or proudly Rival thee,
Th'had'st Reason for thy Anger; but while we
Content with what you slight and scorn can be,
Why should you Envy, or disturb our Joys?
Let us possess in Peace these little Toys.
Only a Woman
"She loves with love that cannot tire:
And if, ah, woe! she loves alone,
Through passionate duty love flames higher,
As grass grows taller round a stone."
Coventry Patmore.
SO, the truth's out. I 'll grasp it like a snake, --
It will not slay me. My heart shall not break
Awhile, if only for the children's sake.
For his too, somewhat. Let him stand unblamed;
None say, he gave me less than honor claimed,
Except -- one trifle scarcely worth being named --
The heart. That 's gone. The corrupt dead might be
As easily raised up, breathing -- fair to see,
As he could bring his whole heart back to me.
I never sought him in coquettish sport,
Or courted him as silly maidens court,
And wonder when the longed-for prize falls short.
I only loved him -- any woman would:
But shut my love up till he came and sued,
Then poured it o'er his dry life like a flood.
I was so happy I could make him blest!
So happy that I was his first and best,
As he mine -- when he took me to his breast.
Ah me! If only then he had been true!
If for one little year, a month or two,
He had given me love for love, as was my due!
Or had he told me, ere the deed was done,
He only raised me to his heart's dear throne --
Poor substitute -- because his queen was gone!
O, had he whispered, when his sweetest kiss
Was warm upon my mouth in fancied bliss,
He had kissed another woman even as this, --
It were less bitter! Sometimes I could weep
To be thus cheated, like a child asleep: --
Were not my anguish far too dry and deep.
So I built my house upon another's ground;
Mocked with a heart just caught at the rebound --
A cankered thing that looked so firm and sound.
And when that heart grew colder -- colder still,
I, ignorant, tried all duties to fulfil,
Blaming my foolish pain, exacting will,
All -- anything but him. It was to be:
The full draught others drink up carelessly
Was made this bitter Tantalus-cup for me.
I say again -- he gives me all I claimed,
I and my children never shall be shamed:
He is a just man -- he will live unblamed.
Only -- O God, O God, to cry for bread,
And get a stone! Daily to lay my head
Upon a bosom where the old love's dead!
Dead? -- Fool! It never lived. It only stirred
Galvanic, like an hour-cold corpse. None heard:
So let me bury it without a word.
He 'll keep that other woman from my sight.
I know not if her face be foul or bright;
I only know that it was his delight --
As his was mine: I only know he stands
Pale, at the touch of their long-severed hands,
Then to a flickering smile his lips commands,
Lest I should grieve, or jealous anger show.
He need not. When the ship 's gone down, I trow,
We little reck whatever wind may blow.
And so my silent moan begins and ends.
No world's laugh or world's taunt, not pity of friends
Or sneer of foes with this my torment blends.
None knows -- none heeds. I have a little pride;
Enough to stand up, wife-like, by his side,
With the same smile as when I was a bride.
And I shall take his children to my arms;
They will not miss these fading, worthless charms;
Their kiss -- ah! unlike his -- all pain disarms.
And haply, as the solemn years go by,
He will think sometimes with regretful sigh,
The other woman was less true than I.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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A Woman's Beauty
The beauty of a woman
Is not determined by a man
Her beauty can be found in her grace
Not just the beauty of her face
It can be found in her style
It can also be found in her smile
Her beauty is in her thoughts
Not just what she has been taught
It can also be found in her soul
It cannot go untold
Her beauty is within her
She does not need to lure
Anyone, because her presence
It is her whole essence
A woman’s beauty is in her heart
Her beauty is her art
A Man in Love
L'Homme qui ne se trouve point, et ne se trouvera jamais.
The man who feels the dear disease,
Forgets himself, neglects to please,
The crowd avoids, and seeks the groves,
And much he thinks when much he loves;
Press'd with alternate hope and fear,
Sighs in her absence, sighs when near.
The gay, the fond, the fair, the young,
Those trifles pass unseen along,
To him a pert insipid throng.
But most he shuns the vain coquette;
Contemns her false affected wit:
The minstrel's sound, the flowing bowl,
Oppress and hurt the amorous soul.
'Tis solitude alone can please,
And give some intervals of ease.
He feeds the soft distemper there,
And fondly courts the distant fair;
To balls the silent shade prefers,
And hates all other charms but hers.
When thus your absent swain can do,
Molly, you may believe him true.
poem by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
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Worth Dying For
Though you might not like who I am
You might even hate me to the core
But one thing I can tell you my brothers
Jesus said that I, was worth dying for.
As when they placed him upon the cross
And then nailed him onto that board
Jesus closed his eyes and spoke to GOD
And said that I, was worth dying for.
So now as I walked down any road
My soul is so happy and my heart is free
As I know that to myself that I am loved
And its by someone, that you cannot see.
I have sinned and been sinned upon
But that type of life I want it no more
As I live my life right, like the bible says
That's why Jesus said, I was worth dying for.
I live my life with a smile upon my face
And also with a happy song inside my heart
As I know that I am loved by GOD himself
And from him I could never or will ever part.
Now when I wake up each and every morning
As no one knows what in life is in store
But happy am I, as I enter each and every day
As I know Jesus said, that I was worth dying for.
So I sing my praise unto you my lord
As I thank you for what you’ve done for me
You gave me life and you gave me hope
And then you gratefully pointed out my destiny.
So this I tell you all my friends and my foes
As you wait or think from just the day before
Look at your life as you look into your soul,
And now think; were you worth dying for.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Worth While
It is easy enough to be pleasant,
When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is one who will smile,
When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of earth
Is the smile that shines through tears.
It is easy enough to be prudent,
When nothing tempts you to stray,
When without or within no voice of sin
Is luring your soul away;
But it's only a negative virtue
Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honor of earth
Is the one that resists desire.
By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
Who had no strength for the strife,
The world's highway is cumbered to-day;
They make up the sum of life.
But the virtue that conquers passion,
And the sorrow that hides in a smile,
It is these that are worth the homage on earth
For we find them but once in a while.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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My Dark Face
Don't look at me with scorn
Because from the Black race I was born
But from deep within your heart do look at me and smile
And you'll see King Solomon and St. Peter by my side.
Don't look at my dark face and sigh
Because from life's ladder I do not slide
But please support me when I call
So that from life's ladder I do not fall.
Don't look at his dark face and inwardly cry
Because you know that I am filled with pride
To sail through life's rough tide
And gain the precious prize.
Don't look at my dark face and say
That at this place I should not stay
Remember that as I journey through life's race
I have the strength to regain the pace.
Now look at my dark face
And think about the Savior's base
For he was born within that stable
And like Him, when He lived on earth, I am always labeled.
No longer look at my dark face with scorn
But remember that through Christ we were all born
Then let us strive through Grace
To win the Heavenly race.
poem by Pansy Patterson
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My Idea of beauty
Beauty is the sensation of your heart skipping a beat,
when eyes full of mischief glance at you...
Beauty is the smile which appears on your lips, when you think of the way he smiles at you...
Beauty is in the heart which touches another
Beauty is tender hands holding each other
Beauty is strong arms holding you warm
Beauty is in water, beauty is in weather,
beauty is in air, beauty is in life
Beauty is in love, beauty is in wind...
Beauty surrounds you days and nights
yet no one knows beauty's heights...
poem by Nitya Pillai
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Not Worth the toil!
NOT all the sum of earthly happiness
Is worth the bowed head of a moment's pain,
And if I sell for wine my dervish dress,
Worth more than what I sell is what I gain!
Land where my Lady dwells, thou holdest me
Enchained; else Fars were but a barren soil,
Not worth the journey over land and sea,
Not worth the toil!
Down in the quarter where they sell red wine,
My holy carpet scarce would fetch a cup
How brave a pledge of piety is mine,
Which is not worth a goblet foaming up!
Mine enemy heaped scorn on me and said
'Forth from the tavern gate!' Why am I thrust
From off the threshold? is my fallen head
Not worth the dust?
Wash white that travel-stained sad robe of thine!
Where word and deed alike one colour bear,
The grape's fair purple garment shall outshine
Thy many-coloured rags and tattered gear.
Full easy seemed the sorrow of the sea
Lightened by hope of gain--hope flew too fast
A hundred pearls were poor indemnity,
Not worth the blast.
The Sultan's crown, with priceless jewels set,
Encircles fear of death and constant dread
It is a head-dress much desired--and yet
Art sure 'tis worth the danger to the head?
'Twere best for thee to hide thy face from those
That long for thee; the Conqueror's reward
Is never worth the army's long-drawn woes,
Worth fire and sword.
Ah, seek the treasure of a mind at rest
And store it in the treasury of Ease;
Not worth a loyal heart, a tranquil breast,
Were all the riches of thy lands and seas!
Ah, scorn, like Hafiz, the delights of earth,
Ask not one grain of favour from the base,
Two hundred sacks of jewels were not worth
Thy soul's disgrace
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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