The New Aspasia
If I have given myself to you, and you,
And if these pale hands are not virginal,
Nor these bright lips beneath your own lips true,
What matters it? I do not stand nor fall
By your old foolish judgments of desire:
If this were Helen's way it is not mine;
I bring you Beauty, but no Troys to fire:
The cup I hold brims not with Borgia's wine.
You, so sudden snared of brows and breasts,
Lightly you think upon these lips, this hair.
My thoughts are kinder: you are pity's guests:
Compassion's bed you share.
It was not lust delivered me to you;
I gave my wondering mouth for pity's sake,
For your strange, sighing lips I did but break
Many times this bread, and poured this wine anew.
My body's woven sweetness and kindling hair
Were given for heal of hurts unknown of me,
For something I could slake but could not share.
Sudden, and rough, and cruel I let you be,
I gave my body for what the world calls sin,
Even as for your souls the Nazarene
Gave once. Long years in pity I and He
Have served you-Jesus and the Magdalen.
As on the river in the fading light
A rust-red sail across the evening creeps,
Torching the gloom, and slowly sinks from sight,
The blood may rise to some old face at night,
Remembering old sins before it sleeps.
So might you hence recall me, were I true
To your sad violence. Were I not free
So me you might remember now; but you
Were no more loved by me than
Than clouds at sunset, or the wild bird going
About his pleasure on the apple tree,
Or wide-blown roses swelling to the bee;
No sweeter than flowers suddenly found growing
In frost-bound dells, or, on the bare, high hills,
The gold, unlaced, dew-drunken daffodils
Shouting the dawn, or the brown river flowing
Down quietly to the sea;
Or day in twilight's hair bound safe and dim,
Stirless in lavender, or the wind blowing,
Tumbling the poppy's turban after him.
I knew you as I knew these happy things,
Passing, unwept, on wide and tranquil wings
To their own place in nature; below, above
Transient passion with its stains and stings.
For this strange pity that you knew not of
Was neither lust nor love.
Do not repent, nor pity, nor regret.
I do not seek your pardon, nor give you mine.
Pass by, be silent, drop no tears, forget.
Return not, make no sign
When I am dead, nor turn your lips away
From Phyrne's silver limbs and Faustine's kiss.
I need no pity. No word of pity say.
I have given a new sweet name and crown to this
That served men's lust and was Aspasia.
poem by Muriel Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
That Pity B-Gone!
Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!
Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!
We knew that pity had to split!
B-gone.
We knew that our hearts would split, and soon...
B-gone.
If we let that pity sit,
Between us....
Both of us would have a fit.
If we let that pity sit,
Both of us would have a fit.
If we let that pity sit...
Between us!
And...
You'd believe,
That I could never love you.
To leave me feeling sorry,
And blue.
But...
I would know,
How deep inside my love goes.
And protecting what I love,
Before it overflows.
Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!
So...
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And maybe not so much the benefits.
Since I would miss too much your many moods.
That pity b-gone.
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pity, pity, pity
Look at to the unwanted child
Look at to the divorced wife
Look at to the homeless man
What people do other than saying
“Pity, pity, pity”
Look at to the tragic hero
Look at to the sympathized villain
Look at to the clueless victim
What witnesses do other than staring
“Pity, pity, pity”
Look at to the crazy dreamer
Look at to the unlucky gambler
Look at to the stubborn fighter
What friends do other than whispering
“Pity, pity, pity”
Look at to the withering flower
Look at to the starving animal
Look at to the extinct nature
What human do other than howling
“Pity, pity, pity”
Look at to the empty spaces
Look at to the blank faces
Look at to the lost traces
What devils do other than laughing
“Pity, pity, pity”
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Up Off That Pity Pot
Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
No need to keep weeping tears,
That long ago overflowed.
Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Holding onto woes,
Have eroded your motives.
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
So wipe your eyes to dry,
And realize...
You are not alone.
You're not alone.
You are not alone.
You're not alone.
Get up!
Off your butt!
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
And realize...
You are not alone.
You're not alone.
You are not alone.
You're not alone.
Get up!
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
You need to get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
You need to get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot,
And stop those woes to drop.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kiss Of Fire
I touch your lips and all at once the sparks go flying
Those devil lips that know so well the art of lying
And though I see the danger, still the flame grows higher
I know I must surrender to your kiss of fire
Just like a torch, you set the soul within me burning
I must go on, I'm on this road of no returning
And though it burns me and it turns me into ashes
My whole world crashes without your kiss of fire
I can't resist you, what good is there in trying?
What good is there denying you're all that I desire?
Since first I kissed you my heart was yours completely
If I'm a slave, then it's a slave I want to be
Don't pity me, don't pity me
Give me your lips, the lips you only let me borrow
Love me tonight and let the devil take tomorrow
I know that I must have your kiss although it dooms me
Though it consumes me, your kiss of fire
I can't resist you, what good is there in trying?
What good is there denying you're all that I desire?
Since first I kissed you my heart was yours completely
If I'm a slave, then it's a slave I want to be
Don't pity me, don't pity me
Give me your lips, the lips you only let me borrow
Love me tonight and let the devil take tomorrow
I know that I must have your kiss although it dooms me
Though it consumes me. the kiss of fire!!!
Aaah Burn me
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Pity You
I pity you when you walk down the street
I pity you when you open your mouth to speak
You will tell your story, with its pity and glory
As sympathy is all that you do seek.
I pity you and your parents dear
I pity you when from you they don’t want to hear
As you put them to blame, for your sadness and pain
That’s why for you no-one will shed a tear.
I pity you when you laugh and smile
I pity you as your life is full of guile
But you are the source, for your sadness and remorse
And you wont change even when walking your last mile.
I pity you as you once had something
I pity you as now you have nothing
You threw everything away, so you could stray
Now your retribution will be coming.
I pity you as with time you will age
I pity you with your hate and your rage
You will always fight, whether you are wrong or right
You are the animal and your soul is your cage
I pity you and I do it without a clue
I pity you whenever I see or hear of you
There is no sympathy, as your not my friend or enemy
And all I can say is, that I truly pity you.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Dip Yo Pity Here To Sit
Don't dip yo pity here to sit.
No permitted pity here can visit.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit.
No permitted pity here can visit.
When you tire of your weeping...
You can call on me.
But don't dip yo pity in a pit!
To leave it here to sit.
When you tire of your weeping...
You can call on me.
But don't dip yo pity in a pit!
To leave it here to sit.
I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No tears on my pillow.
Unless they're mine to cry.
Everyday you bring me pity.
As if your pity thrives.
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo...
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo!
I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo.
I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No tears on my pillow.
Unless they're mine to cry.
Everyday you bring me pity.
As if your pity thrives.
Well.
Well.
Well.
Well.
Well.
Well,
WELL...
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo...
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo...
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo!
I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Such A Pity
How is your heart little darling?
I didn't mean to get so mad.
Let me just hold you closely.
How did things get so bad?
I know how to pick on you.
You pushed me over the edge.
We caused so much agony.
We can't seem to move ahead.
This is such a pity.
We should give all our love to each other.
Not this hate that destroys us.
This is such a pity.
(This is a pity)
What kind of future will we have?
Will we we ever find peace?
Everybody thinks we're crazy.
They're about to call the police.
I don't wanna be a chump.
You think I'm a fascist pig.
Right now everything is black.
I don't think we'll get it.
This is such a pity.
We should give all our love to each other.
Not this hate that destroys us.
This is such a pity.
(This is a pity)
[solo]
This is such a pity.
We should give all our love to each other.
Not this hate that destroys us.
This is such a pity.
(This is a pity)
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leda
Do you remember, Leda?
There are those who love, to whom Love brings
Great gladness: such things have not I.
Love looks and has no mercy, brings
Long doom to others. Such was I.
Heart breaking hand upon the lute
Long last made musical by you?
Sharp bird-beak in the swelling fruit,
Or raise the eyelids of these flowers?
I dare not watch that hidden pool,
Nor see the wild bird's sudden wing
Lifting the wide, brown shaken pool,
But round me falls that secret wing,
And in that sharp, perverse, sweet pain
That is half-terror and half-bliss
My withered hands are curled on pain
That were so wide once, after bliss.
And gold is springing in my hair
As my thought spring and flower with it,
Though I sit hid in my grey hair,
Without love or the pain of it.
Yet, oh my Swan, if love have wings,
As the gods tell us, you were love
Who took and broke me with those wings.
I, weak, and being far gone in love
Let blushless things be breathed and done-
Things flowered out now in bitter fruit
That once done are no more undone
Than last year's frost and last year's fruit.
For what has come of love and me
Who knew the first joy that loving is?
Where has love led and beckoned me
But to the end where nothing is?
I have seen my blood beat out again
Red in the hands of all my line,
My sin has swelled and flowered again
Corrupt and fierce through Sparta's line.
Bred through me-bred through delicate hands
And wandering eyes and wanton lips,
Sighing after strange flesh as sighed these lips,
Straying after new sin as strayed these hands.
Mother of Helen! She whose breasts
To new desires unshaped the world;
Above Troy's summit towered these breasts
Helen who wantoned with the world!
Helen is dead (she had love enough
To mock at doom and laugh at shrine)
And Clytemnestra, quiet enough
To-night beneath Apollo's shrine.
And I am left, the source, the spring
Of all their madness. They are dead
While I still sit here, the old spring
That fouled them flows above the dead.
But I have paid. I have borne enough.
I am very old in love and woe.
For all souls these things are enough-
Who have known love are the friends of woe.
There those who love, and who escape,
There are those who love and do not die.
I loved, and there was no escape,
Long since I died and daily die.
And death alone makes hate and love
Friends with each other and with sleep . . .
All's quiet here that once was love,
This that is left belongs to sleep.
poem by Muriel Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tryst
I raised the veil, I loosed the bands,
I took the dead thing from its place.
Like a warm stream in frozen lands
My lips went wandering on her face,
My hands burnt in her hands.
She could not stay me, being dead;
Her body here was mine to hold.
What if her lips had lost their red?
To me they always tasted cold
With the cold words she said.
Did my breath run along her hair,
And free the pulse, and fire the brain,
My wild blood wake her wild blood there?
Here eyelids lifted wide again
In a blue, sudden stare.
Beneath my fierce, profane caress
The whole white length of body moved;
The drowsy bosom seemed to press
As if against a breast beloved,
Then fail for weariness.
No, not that anguish! Christ forbid
That I should raise such dead! I rose,
Stifled the mouth with lilies, hid
Those eyes, And drew the long hair close,
And shut the coffin lid.
My cold brow on the cold wood laid,
Quiet and close to-night we lie.
No cruel words her lips have said.
I shall not take nor she deny.
The dead is with the dead.
poem by Muriel Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don’t Pity Me
I can stand on my own two feet
Spare me the reminder that I came from those lonely streets
Which made me cold as I grew old
Don’t pity me, no don’t pity me at all
I did what was necessary to survive
Build my dreams on hard concrete
Fed myself dust until I couldn’t eat
Why pity me, why pity me at all
Now that I am full, I can use the energy
To do what you could have done
Saved me instead of feeling sorry
Because you pity me, and you pity me until I was no more
So the next time you look down and see me
Remember this, it could have been you not me.
poem by Landsley Alexandre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Isn't It A Pity
isn't it a pity
you don't know what i'm talking about yet
but i will tell you soon
it's a pity
isn't it a pity
isn't it a shame
yes, how we break each other's hearts
and cause each other pain
how we take each other's love
without thinking anymore
forgetting to give back
forgetting to remember
just forgetting and no thank you
isn't it a pity
some things take so long
but how do i explain
why not too many people can see
that we are all just the same
we're all guilty
because of all the tears
our eyes just can't hope to see
but i don't think it's applicable to me
the beauty that surrounds them
child, isn't it a pity
how we break each other's hearts
and cause each other pain
how we take each other's love
the most precious thing
without thinking anymore
forgetting to give back
forgetting to keep open our door
isn't it a pity
isn't it a pity
some things take so long
but how do i explain
isn't it a pity
why not too many people
can see we're all the same
because we cry so much
our eyes can't, can't hope to see
that's not quite true
the beauty that surrounds them
maybe that's why we cry
God, isn't it a pity
Lord knows it's a pity
mankind has been so programmed
that they don't care about nothin'
that has to do with care
c-a-r-e
how we take each other's love
the most precious thing
without thinking anymore
forgetting to give back
forgetting to keep open the door
but i understand some things take so long
but how do i explain
why not too many people
can see we're just the same
and because of all their tears
their eyes can't hope to see
the beauty that surrounds them
God, isn't it a pity
the beauty that surrounds them
it's a pity
we take each other's love
just take it for granted
without thinking anymore
we give each other pain
and we shut every door
we take each other's minds
and we're capable of take each other's souls
we do it every day
just to reach some financial goal
Lord, isn't it a pity, my God
isn't it a pity, my God
and so unnecessary
just a little time, a little care
a little note written in the air
just the little thank you
we just forget to give back
cause we're moving too fast
moving too fast
forgetting to give back
but some things take so long
and i cannot explain
the beauty that surrounds us
and we don't see it
we think things are just the same
we've been programmed that way
isn't it a pity
if you want to feel sorry
isn't it a pity
isn't it a pity
the beauty sets the beauty that surrounds us
because of all our tears
our eyes can't hope to see
maybe one day at least i'll see me
and just concentrate on givin', givin', givin', givin'
and till that day
mankind don't stand a chance
don't know nothin' about romance
everything is plastic
isn't it a pity
my God.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With A Pity That You Want
With a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.
And with a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.
You weep too deep,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
To realize...
A pain you keep.
With a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Other people who have less,
Do their best to not in public bleed.
But...
You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
You weep too deep,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
And your wants are weak.
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Other people who have less,
Do their best to not in public bleed.
But...
You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Other people who have less,
Do their best to not in public bleed.
Oh...
But you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
With a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.
And with a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want,
To show you're one of those...
With a pity that you want,
To show exposed.
With a pity that you want,
To be one of those!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Purple... Purple
Purple... Purple;
Such a beautiful
Color-
You wore it with clever
Intentions to lull her.
Purple... Purple;
You knew it was my favorite.
Purple... Purple;
You'd chuckle as you'd brave it.
Ever... Ever;
You promised
Your heart-
She charmed and disarmed you
Before you could start.
Ever... Ever;
You'd drown in your tears.
Ever... Ever;
Though she'd fade with years.
Smiling... Smiling;
I'd never
Forget-
That smile above that purple
Before you'd regret.
Smiling... Smiling;
You'd smile for her.
Smiling... Smiling;
Dying, though you were.
Never... Never;
I left with
No pause-
Your wallowing sickness gave me
Plenty cause.
Never... Never;
You seem far away.
Never... Never;
Despite what you'd say.
Pity... Pity;
I lost all
For you-
Pity... Pity;
What one girl
Can do.
poem by Singer Joy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dream
I dreamed
A dream of you,
Not as you seemed
When you were late unkind
And blind
To my eyes' pleading for a debt long due,
But touched and true
And all inclined
To tenderest fancies on love's inmost theme.
How sweet you were to me and ah, how kind
In that dear dream!
I felt
Your lips on mine
Mingle and melt,
And your cheek touch my cheek.
I, weak
With vain desires and askings for a sign
Of love divine,
Found my grief break,
And wept and wept in an unending stream
Of sudden joy set free, yet could not speak,
Dumb in my dream.
I knew
You loved me then,
And I knew too
The bliss of souls in Heaven
New--shriven,
Who look with pity on still sinning men,
And turn again
To be forgiven
In the dear arms of their God holding them,
And spend themselves in praise from morn till even
Nor break their dream.
I woke
In my mid bliss,
At midnight's stroke,
And knew you lost and gone.
Forlorn
I called you back to my unfinished kiss,
But only this
One word of scorn
You answered me, ``'Twas better loved to seem
Than loved to be, since all love is forsworn,
Always a dream.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Meeting of Sighs
YOUR voice was the rugged
old voice that I knew;
I gave the best grip of
my greeting to you.
I knew not of your lips—
you knew not of mine;
Of travel and travail
we gave not a sign.
We drank and we chorused
with quips in our eyes;
But under our song was
the meeting of sighs.
I knew not of your lips—
you knew not of mine;
For lean years and lone years
had watered the wine.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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Pity Me, Loo!
On the sunset borders of the mountains I stray,
Of a dear home dreaming 'yond the snow peaks far away,
While the bubbling brook beside me goes dancing along,
As it seeks the "Golden Gate" of the ocean blue;
And a lone bird murmurs in the bush-top his song--
"Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!"
Tra la la la, la la la la
From mate to mate the carol rings:
Tra la la la, la la la la!
la la la la
A thousand valleys through;
Yet the lone bird sorrows as he plaintively sings--
"Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!"
'Neath the rocks I'm treading there are treasures of gold,
But by far more precious is my own native mold.
Nevermore, in search of Beauty need Fancy take wings:
Here is beauty, here is grandeur, at ev'ry view;
Yet my heart grows heavy, and the lone bird still sings--
"Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!"
In the green-clad valley where the wayward brook mends
There are homes most charming--there are warmhearted friends.
Lovely dell! it seems an Eden, afloat in mid-air,
As if God had sent from Heaven a creation new;
But its charm is broken, for my heart is not there--
"Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!"
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do Not Pity Me
Do not pity me, my friend.
Do not pity me.
For I have always lived my life
the way I wanted it to be.
I played. I sang
and laughed a lot.
And all the tears
I cried, I forgot.
Do not pity me, my friend.
Do not pity me.
For I was granted gifts from God,
gifts you cannot see.
A feeling of freedom,
a feeling of peace,
an intuitive knowing
that troubles do cease.
Do not pity me, my friend.
Do not pity me.
For I have learned my lessons well
and know I hold the key
that opens up my diary.
Its pages are filled with anecdotal times
that ring out like bells
and sweet wind chimes.
A marriage of joys
with two baby boys,
a childhood filled
with more than just toys,
Aches and pain
that helped me retain
compassion for those
that suffer life's blows.
So do not pity me, my friend.
Do not pity me.
For I can smile and I can say
I lived my life how I wanted it to be.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Putting Pity Properly Propped
How pitiful can a declared pity get?
Some can do pity proud...
By having pity dipped and bronzed.
And accessorized with torment.
With a highlighting of pity in rhinestone...
To give focus with meaning and intention meant.
Capturing a pity purposely posing in a moldedness...
And an importance that could be set on mantels.
Thusly and/or thence...
Putting pity properly propped,
On top and placed upon such a pedestal.
Where pitifulness praised like this can sit!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tied By The Wrists To A Pity Pit
Down, down feeling gagged and bound.
And tied by the wrists to a pity pit.
Convicted with an accepting addiction of it.
Stretched beyond imagination,
People wish they could elope with their hopes.
At the end of slipping twisting ropes...
And blowing in a wind that shifts.
Picked and tossed across a river like a pebble.
And not making a ripple or a dent.
Hoping that a simple skip will give them a lift.
But that lift to them aint been sent to benefit.
People feel today they are weak and feeble.
With down cast eyes in cracks and ruts.
And no one seems to want to give that up!
But...
Down, down feeling gagged and bound.
Tied by the wrists to a pity pit.
And...
Convicted with an accepting addiction of it.
Oh...
Down, down feeling gagged and bound.
And tied by the wrists to a pity pit.
And...
Convicted with an accepting addiction of it.
Existing everyday to be defeated and licked.
Down, down feeling gagged and bound.
And tied by the wrists to a pity pit.
Convicted with an accepting addiction of it.
Doo doo doo doo doo down down,
Doo doo doo down down...
And tied by the wrists to a pity pit.
Doo doo doo doo doo down down,
Doo doo doo down down...
And tied by the wrists to a pity pit.
Doo doo doo doo doo down down,
Doo doo doo down down...
And tied by the wrists to a pity pit.
As if convicted accepting of it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tis Sweet to Think
Tis sweet to think that, where'er we rove,
We are sure to find something blissful and dear,
And that, when we're far from the lips that we love,
We've but to make love to the lips we are near.
The heart, like a tendril, accustom'd to cling,
Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish alone,
But will lean to the nearest and loveliest thing
It can twine with itself, and make closely its own.
Then oh! what pleasure, where'er we rove,
To be sure to find something, still, that is dear,
And to know, when far from the lips we love,
We've but to make love to the lips we are near.
'Twere a shame, when flowers around us rise,
To make light of the rest, if the rose isn't there,
And the world's so rich in resplendent eyes,
'Twere a pity to limit one's love to a pair.
Love's wing and the peacock's are nearly alike,
They are both of them bright, but the're changeable too,
And wherever a new beam of beauty can strike,
It will tincture Love's plume with a different hue.
Then oh! what pleasure, where'er we rove,
To be sure to find something, still, that is dear,
And to know, when far from the lips we love,
We've but to make love to the lips we are near.
poem by Thomas Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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