To A Poet Of Quality. Praising The Lady Hinchinbroke
Of thy judicious Muse's sense,
Young Hinchinbroke so very proud is,
That Sacharissa and Hortense
She looks henceforth upon as dowdies.
Yet she to one must still submit,
To dear Mamma must pay her duty;
She wonders, praising Wilmot's wit,
Thou shouldst forget his daughter's beauty.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: VIII
AS TO HIS CHOICE OF HER
If I had chosen thee, thou shouldst have been
A virgin proud, untamed, immaculate,
Chaste as the morning star, a saint, a queen,
Scarred by no wars, no violence of hate.
Thou shouldst have been of soul commensurate
With thy fair body, brave and virtuous
And kind and just; and, if of poor estate,
At least an honest woman for my house.
I would have had thee come of honoured blood
And honourable nurture. Thou shouldst bear
Sons to my pride and daughters to my heart,
And men should hold thee happy, wise, and good.
Lo, thou art none of this, but only fair.
Yet must I love thee, dear, and as thou art.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Psalm 8 part 2
v. 3ff, paraphrased.
L. M.
Adam and Christ, lords of the old and new creation.
Lord, what was man, when made at first,
Adam the offspring of the dust,
That thou shouldst set him and his race
But just below an angel's place?
That thou shouldst raise his nature so,
And make him lord of all below;
Make every beast and bird submit,
And lay the fishes at his feet?
But, O! what brighter glories wait
To crown the Second Adam's state!
What honors shall thy Son adorn,
Who condescended to be born!
See him below his angels made;
See him in dust amongst the dead,
To save a ruined world from sin;
But he shall reign with power divine.
The world to come, redeemed from all
The miseries that attend the fall,
New made and glorious, shall submit
At our exalted Savior's feet.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Amelia, My Last Infant Daughter
On the fifth of chill November
Came my Amie unto me,
Adding one more lovely member
To my numerous family.
Daughter, thou art welcome truly
To the care we can bestow;
May we do our duty duly
While we stay with thee below.
Think not, daughter, we will slight thee,
Since so many claim our love;
Gladly-wish we to delight thee,
As we look for help Above.
Thou art to us, little charmer,
Dear as any child we own;
And our love to each grows warmer
For the sorrows we have known.
Take then, daughter, take our blessing,
It comes forth from loving hearts;
Though we shrink hot from confessing
Oft we fail to act our parts.
poem by Thomas Cowherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beauty's Metempsychosis
That beauty such as thine
Can die indeed,
Were ordinance too wantonly malign:
No wit may reconcile so cold a creed
With beauty such as thine.
From wave and star and flower
Some effluence rare
Was lent thee, a divine but transient dower:
Thou yield'st it back from eyes and lips and hair
To wave and star and flower.
Shouldst thou to-morrow die,
Thou still shalt be
Found in the rose and met in all the sky:
And from the ocean's heart shalt sing to me,
Shouldst thou to-morrow die.
poem by William Watson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Maternal Musings.
Be not afraid there’s nought to fear.
The night is not thine enemy
So sleep my babe sleep peacefully.
Thou knowest well that I am near.
Thou are the prize which I long sought.
A joy I thought denied to me
so I will guard the faithfully
against all harm of any sort.
If thou shouldst stir I come to thee,
a cry will bring me to thy side.
The love I bear and cannot hide
I’m proud to display openly.
I can forget my childless years
Now thou art here to comfort me.
I submit to thy tyrannies
thou rulest me with smiles and tears.
Though all too quickly thou wilt grow.
Become a boy and then a man.
I must enjoy thee whilst I can.
Although I pray the years pass slow.
At least for now thou needest me
thou art dependent on my care.
A burden which I gladly bear.
I am a mother finally.
Thy sire is prouder far than I
accepts all credit as his due.
Asmost new fathers tend to do.
Thou art the apple of his eye.
Thy coming was so long delayed.
We thought that we might never see
a babe to grace our nursery
Thou art the child for which we prayed
.
Be not afraid sleep peacefully.
In thy cradle warm and dry
and I will sing a lullaby.
Watch over thee adoringly.
24-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dove
If haply thou, O Desdemona Morn,
Shouldst call along the curving sphere, "Remain,
Dear Night, sweet Moor; nay, leave me not in scorn!"
With soft halloos of heavenly love and pain; --
Shouldst thou, O Spring! a-cower in coverts dark,
'Gainst proud supplanting Summer sing thy plea,
And move the mighty woods through mailed bark
Till mortal heart-break throbbed in every tree; --
Or (grievous `if' that may be `yea' o'er-soon!),
If thou, my Heart, long holden from thy Sweet,
Shouldst knock Death's door with mellow shocks of tune,
Sad inquiry to make -- `When may we meet?'
Nay, if ye three, O Morn! O Spring! O Heart!
Should chant grave unisons of grief and love;
Ye could not mourn with more melodious art
Than daily doth yon dim sequestered dove.
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Girls Must Not Fret
WHAT is it that makes little Emily cry?
Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye:
There–lay down your head on my bosom–that's right,
And now tell mamma what's the matter to-night.
What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play?
Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away;
But do not be fretful, my darling; you know
Mamma cannot love little girls that are so.
She shall soon go to bed and forget it all there–
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I declare:
That's right, for I thought you quite naughty before.
Good night, my dear child, but don't fret any more.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Enigmatic!
Enigmatic, Asiatic, sympathetic, symbolic, tonic!
Of the wonders of life around us;
But, where is the place of peace on this earth?
Arithmetic, systemic, tactic, Artic, synthetic;
But, it was just perfect! !
And, it fits just perfect with the wonders of nature.
Architectonic, metric, antibiotic, Antartic, artistic!
And with the wonders of science;
But, this muse of love is closely connected with it.
Automatic, archaic, arthritic, apocalyptic, panic! !
To do it yourself alone in the line of duty;
But, like a registered dentist with the muse of care.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Girls Must Not Fret
What is it that makes little Emily cry?
Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye:
There -- lay down your head on my bosom -- that's right,
And now tell mamma what's the matter to-night.
What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play?
Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away;
But do not be fretful, my darling; you know
Mamma cannot love little girls that are so.
She shall soon go to bed and forget it all there
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I declare:
That's right, for I thought you quite naughty before.
Good night, my dear child, but don't fret any more.
poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 11: As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest,
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this folly, age, and cold decay,
If all were minded so, the times should cease,
And threescore year would make the world away.
Let those whom Nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish;
Look whom she best endowed, she gave the more,
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.
She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby,
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nature tells me
Nature tells me not to be proud
of my riches for I am not
much richer than her.
Nature tells me not to be proud
of my beauty for I am not
much beautiful than her.
Nature tells me not to be proud
of my kindness for I am not
much kinder than her.
Nature tells me not to be proud
of my generosity for I am not
much generous than her.
Nature tells me not to be proud
of my logicality for I am not
much logical than her.
Nature tells me not to be proud
of my judiciousness for I am not
much judicious than her.
Nature tells me not to be proud
of my poetic mind for I am not
much poetic than her.
Nature tells me not to be proud
of my prides for I am not
much prouder than her.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Agassiz
I stand again on the familiar shore,
And hear the waves of the distracted sea
Piteously calling and lamenting thee,
And waiting restless at thy cottage door.
The rocks, the sea-weed on the ocean floor,
The willows in the meadow, and the free
Wild winds of the Atlantic welcome me;
Then why shouldst thou be dead, and come no more?
Ah, why shouldst thou be dead, when common men
Are busy with their trivial affairs,
Having and holding? Why, when thou hadst read
Nature's mysterious manuscript, and then
Wast ready to reveal the truth it bears,
Why art thou silent! Why shouldst thou be dead?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The doll's wooing
The little French doll was a dear little doll
Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses;
Her eyes were of hue
A most delicate blue
And dark as the night were her tresses;
Her dear little mouth was fluted and red,
And this little French doll was so very well bred
That whenever accosted her little mouth said
"Mamma! mamma!"
The stockinet doll, with one arm and one leg,
Had once been a handsome young fellow;
But now he appeared
Rather frowzy and bleared
In his torn regimentals of yellow;
Yet his heart gave a curious thump as he lay
In the little toy cart near the window one day
And heard the sweet voice of that French dolly say:
"Mamma! mamma!"
He listened so long and he listened so hard
That anon he grew ever so tender,
For it's everywhere known
That the feminine tone
Gets away with all masculine gender!
He up and he wooed her with soldierly zest
But all she'd reply to the love he professed
Were these plaintive words (which perhaps you have guessed):
"Mamma! mamma!"
Her mother - a sweet little lady of five -
Vouchsafed her parental protection,
And although stockinet
Wasn't blue-blooded, yet
She really could make no objection!
So soldier and dolly were wedded one day,
And a moment ago, as I journeyed that way,
I'm sure that I heard a wee baby voice say:
"Mamma! mamma!"
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Still seems it strange, that thou shouldst live forever? Is it less strange, that thou shouldst live at all? This is a miracle; and that no more.
quote by Edward Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Still seems it strange, that thou shouldst live forever Is it less strange, that thou shouldst live at all This is a miracle and that no more.
quote by Brigham Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not haply say,
"Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed,
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay,
But best is best, if never intermixed"?
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?
Excuse not silence so, for't lies in thee
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb
And to be praised of ages yet to be.
Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how
To make him seem, long hence, as he shows now.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Life
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
I'm going to be a farmer
Blowing the fields in the morning sun
I'll have a millon horses
Take me a ride when the work is done
I'm going to have a sweet life
Sweetest life you ever seen
And when the day is over
Going to go to sleep in the field of green
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Going to be a acter
Playing a part in a light of gold
Oh yes I will
I'm going to make a lot of money
Going to spend it all before I get to old
And I'm going to have a sweet life
Sweetest life you ever seen
And you know when the day is over now
I'm going to go to sleep in a field of green
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Got,got, got to have a sweet life
Got to have a sweet life
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
[fade out]
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Talent
You wonder
Looking at the wonderful
But you never wonder
Looking at me
The creator of all,
I am the wonder of the wonders
The most wonderful.
You are after
The trifle
Never compose
Or sing a song
Praising me
Passing the time
Idle.
I am the pleasure
In life and love
Oh dear, dull and dumb.
If you are after me
I look after you
I never drag
Or deprive.
Keep faith
And walk after death.
The beauty
Of the most beautiful
The true of the truest
The most trusted friend
Of the absolute.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: C
AGE
O Age, thou art the very thief of joy,
For thou hast rifled many a proud fool
Of all his passions, hoarded by a rule
Of stern economy. Him, yet a boy,
Harsh wisdom governed. Others turned to toy
With lusty passion. He was chaste and cool
As a young Dorian in Lycurgus' school.
Ah me, that thou such souls shouldst dare annoy.
Thus did he gather him a store of pleasure,
Nor cared to touch what he so hardly won,
But led long years of solitary strife;
And, when the rest should have consumed their treasure,
He thought to sit him in the evening sun
And taste the sweet fruits of a sober life.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Mama Blue
Written by orbison/melson.
I know a place in new orleans.
They call the castle of kings and queens.
Where an old sweet black woman sings.
And plays piano like a dream.
She puts out all her beautiful heart and soul for you.
Sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue will only sing about the truth.
And it will get to you.
Sweet mamma blue will sing of love as only she can do.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue
One night I stayed past closing time.
Sweet mamma blue my troubled mind.
She sang the night away for me.
She made me see what I couldnt see.
That only by loving life will all your dreams come true.
Sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue will only sing about the truth.
And it will get to you.
Sweet mamma blue will sing of love as only she can do.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue.
They say shes gone from misery.
But she still lives in my memory.
I still can see her smile and say
Ill bet you make it all the way.
If you will try the lord will surely see you through
.
Sweet mamma blue,
The world sure will miss you.
And when I feel blue I think of you.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue...
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!