Love
Foolish love is only folly;
Wanton love is too unholy;
Greedy love is covetous;
Idle love is frivolous;
But the gracious love is it
That doth prove the work of it.
Beauty but deceives the eye;
Flattery leads the ear awry;
Wealth doth but enchant the wit;
Want, the overthrow of it;
While in Wisdom's worthy grace,
Virtue sees the sweetest face.
There hath Love found out his life,
Peace without all thought of strife;
Kindness in Discretion's care;
Truth, that clearly doth declare
Faith doth in true fancy prove,
Lust the excrements of Love.
Then in faith may fancy see
How my love may constru'd be;
How it grows and what it seeks;
How it lives and what it likes;
So in highest grace regard it,
Or in lowest scorn discard it.
poem by Nicholas Breton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
O love thou create
O love thou create and thou destroy
The innocent girl, the innocent boy
Tis in love that is, that lover's dwell
In foolish love fallen in foolish spell
One in love makes two hearts grow
None in love, and love stills show
On the melancholic face of beauty
In between the lines of poetry
Painted on the grace of Mary
Soaring on the wing of love's ferry
It's love's spell our life doth make
And life what love doth take
When thou say thou love me not
Thou love me not, but still love I got
So live I will.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Community
Good we must love, and must hate ill,
For ill is ill, and good good still;
But there are things indifferent,
Which wee may neither hate, nor love,
But one, and then another prove,
As we shall find our fancy bent.
If then at first wise Nature had
Made women either good or bad,
Then some wee might hate, and some choose;
But since she did them so create,
That we may neither love, nor hate,
Only this rests, all all may use.
If they were good it would be seen;
Good is as visible as green,
And to all eyes itself betrays.
If they were bad, they could not last;
Bad doth itself, and others waste;
So they deserve nor blame, nor praise.
But they are ours as fruits are ours;
He that but tastes, he that devours,
And he that leaves all, doth as well;
Changed loves are but changed sorts of meat;
And when he hath the kernel eat,
Who doth not fling away the shell?
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
A Selfish Lover
My love doth not love but love it feels
Inside my heart which is deaf and mute.
I cannot love thee but my soul peals
The song of love into sweet fruit.
Love is the virtue, I selfishly hoard
A vice to entrap mine only good.
In the miser in me, my fruit I store
And eat for myself as love should.
But my heart doth not hear
And my heart doth not speak
The rich love my soul endear
Or the love thine heart seek?
For I do love one, but only me
If thou call that love or being miserly?
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sister to Sister
'When I received that love which is a face,
When I perceived that face which is a love,
Two voices, like those two old nations, strove
Within my heart, and the first-born gave place
And served the younger. 'Ah this golden space
Doth cage the airy pinions of my dove!
And ah this value, which might prove and more
Another love, seems simony to the grace
Of ours!' Thus while one passion doth protest,
The other cries: 'I care not how it be!
For, givest thou much or little, worst or best,
Nor am I richer nor thou dispossest;
My fond subtraction is still thine in me,
And all thy dear remainder mine in thee!''
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XIV: Alas, Have I Not
Alas, have I not pain enough, my friend,
Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire,
Than did on him who first stole down the fire,
While Love on me doth all his quiver spend,
But with your rhubarb words you must contend,
To grieve me worse, in saying that desire
Doth plunge my well-form'd soul even in the mire
Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end?
If that be sin which doth the manners frame,
Well stayed with truth in word and faith of deed,
Ready of wit and fearing nought but shame:
If that be sin which in fix'd hearts doth breed
A loathing of all loose unchastity,
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Child My Choice
Let folly praise that fancy loves, I praise and love that Child
Whose heart no thought, whose tongue no word, whose hand no deed defiled.
I praise Him most, I love Him best, all praise and love is His;
While Him I love, in Him I live, and cannot live amiss.
Love's sweetest mark, laud's highest theme, man's most desired light,
To love Him life, to leave Him death, to live in Him delight.
He mine by gift, I His by debt, thus each to other due;
First friend He was, best friend He is, all times will try Him true.
Though young, yet wise; though small, yet strong; though man, yet God He is:
As wise, He knows; as strong, He can; as God, He loves to bless.
His knowledge rules, His strength defends, His love doth cherish all;
His birth our joy, His life our light, His death our end of thrall.
Alas! He weeps, He sighs, He pants, yet do His angels sing;
Out of His tears, His sighs and throbs, doth bud a joyful spring.
Almighty Babe, whose tender arms can force all foes to fly,
Correct my faults, protect my life, direct me when I die!
poem by Robert Southwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love Is.............................
Love is desire,
Love is on fire,
Love is my word,
Love is to hold,
Love is my sin,
Love is my dream.
Love is lust,
Love is my truth,
Love is my journey,
Love makes me horny,
Love is on me,
Love is what you see,
Love teach me how,
Love takes a bow,
Love never dies,
Love is a surprise,
Love take care of you,
Love is true,
Love is my faith,
Love is great,
Love is so real,
Love is dear,
Love is you,
I love you, always do
poem by Gianni Pintus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XXXVIII: Sitting Alone, Love
Sitting alone, Love bids me go and write;
Reason plucks back, commanding me to stay,
Boasting that she doth still direct the way,
Or else Love were unable to endite.
Love, growing angry, vexed at the spleen
And scorning Reason's maimed argument,
Straight taxeth Reason, wanting to invent,
Where she with Love conversing hath not been.
Reason, reproached with this coy disdain,
Despiteth Love, and laugheth at her folly;
And Love, condemning Reason's reason wholly,
Thought it in weight too light by many'a grain.
Reason, put back, doth out of sight remove,
And Love alone picks reason out of love.
poem by Michael Drayton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love that Doth Reign and Live
Love that doth reign and live within my thought
And built his seat within my captive breast,
Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought,
Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.
But she that taught me love and suffer pain,
My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire
With shamefast look to shadow and refrain,
Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire.
And coward Love then to the heart apace
Taketh his flight, where he doth lurk and plain
His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.
For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pain;
Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove:
Sweet is the death that taketh end by love.
poem by Henry Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song
Who hath his fancy pleased
With fruits of happy sight,
Let here his eyes be raised
On Nature's sweetest light;
A light which doth dissever
And yet unite the eyes,
A light which, dying never,
Is cause the looker dies.
She never dies, but lasteth
In life of lover's heart;
He ever dies that wasteth
In love his chiefest part:
Thus is her life still guarded
In never-dying faith;
Thus is his death rewarded,
Since she lives in his death.
Look then, and die! The pleasure
Doth answer well the pain:
Small loss of mortal treasure,
Who may immortal gain!
Immortal be her graces,
Immortal is her mind;
They, fit for heavenly places--
This, heaven in it doth bind.
But eyes these beauties see not,
Nor sense that grace descries;
Yet eyes deprived be not
From sight of her fair eyes--
Which, as of inward glory
They are the outward seal,
So may they live still sorry,
Which die not in that weal.
But who hath fancies pleased
With fruits of happy sight,
Let here his eyes be raised
On Nature's sweetest light!
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Is My Heavenly Proffer
Perhaps once in thine own life, if truly fortuitous,
Ye shall gain privity to a beauty, as I, whose glorious
Resplendence shines-as a beacon, through all my hours-
A beauty so rarified it doth astound and overpowers
The senses at times! Though she doth dwell many a mile
From whence I am, still, I am greeted at all times-by her smile!
Should my life's flame be doused, right here and now,
I shan't have cause to aspire further-as this I avow:
I have glimpsed Heaven-in her eyes, it doth reside-
Not to speak slight of the Empyrean Kingdom, nor deride;
I have seen her truth, and simply must, to it, attest;
She is cause for me to know, I am most and truly blessed!
No matter of love or affection shall serve to suffice-no, not nearly;
Nothing shall ever be proper grace for the one I love most dearly!
My life until now hath been wanton of a love worthy of what I have to offer-
No longer need I search for same, obligation owed to God's greatest proffer!
Our consort was a divine providence, of this, you may be assured;
My soul hath now its compeer; My heart's everlasting guard, secured!
I must see this glory e'er closer still-to this end, I shall do what I must;
All my hopes and dreams-all the faith I have in my heart-to her, I do entrust!
'Lord, as Thou hast given unto me, this magnificent, glorious covenant,
I shall endeavor dutifully to pay it proper honor, as I remain allegiant! '
My amorous wonderment knows not bound, whence she is concerned-
For she doth embody all that for which my life, entire, I have yearned!
As this singularly magnificent night gives way to the dawn of a new day,
There is but one truth I know and shall endeavor evermore, to convey:
She is my Heavenly proffer, given unto me as proof of His divine inspiration-
She-the solitary source of my mind, heart and soul's panoply of elation!
Maurice Harris,24 May 2010
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As ye came from the Holy Land
As ye came from the holy land
Of Walsinghame,
Met you not with my true love
By the way as you came?
How should I know your true love,
That have met many a one
As I came from the holy land,
That have come, that have gone?
She is neither white nor brown,
But as the heavens fair;
There is none hath her form divine
In the earth or the air.
Such a one did I meet, good sir,
Such an angelic face,
Who like a nymph, like a queen, did appear
In her gait, in her grace.
She hath left me here alone
All alone, as unknown,
Who sometime did me lead with herself,
And me loved as her own.
What's the cause that she leaves you alone
And a new way doth take,
That sometime did love you as her own,
And her joy did you make?
I have loved her all my youth,
But now am old, as you see:
Love likes not the falling fruit,
Nor the withered tree.
Know that Love is a careless child,
And forgets promise past:
He is blind, he is deaf when he list,
And in faith never fast.
His desire is a dureless content,
And a trustless joy;
He is won with a world of despair,
And is lost with a toy.
Of womenkind such indeed is the love,
Or the word love abused,
Under which many childish desires
And conceits are excused.
But true love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never dead, never cold,
From itself never turning.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On The Rising Of The Sun
Look, look, brave Sol doth peep up from beneath,
Shows us his golden face, doth on us breathe;
He also doth compass us round with glories,
Whilst he ascends up to his highest stories.
Where he his banner over us displays,
And gives us light to see our works and ways.
Nor are we now, as at the peep of light,
To question, is it day, or is it night?
The night is gone, the shadows fled away,
And we now most sure are that it is day.
Our eyes behold it, and our hearts believe it;
Nor can the wit of man in this deceive it.
And thus it is when Jesus shows his face,
And doth assure us of his love and grace.
poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If Love Now Reynyd
If love now reynyd as it hath bene
And war rewardit as it hath sene,
Nobyll men then wold suer enserch
All ways wherby thay myght it rech;
But envy reynyth with such dysdayne,
And causith lovers owtwardly to refrayne,
Which puttes them to more and more
Inwardly most grevous and sore;
The faut in whome I cannot sett;
But let them tell which love doth gett.
To lovers I put now suer this cace -
Which of ther loves doth get them grace?
And unto them which doth it know
Better than do I, I thynk it so.
poem by Henry VIII King of England
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As You Came from the Holy Land
As you came from the holy land
Of Walsingham,
Met you not with my true love
By the way as you came?
'How shall I know your true love,
That have met many one,
I went to the holy land,
That have come, that have gone?'
She is neither white, nor brown,
But as the heavens fair;
There is none hath a form so divine
In the earth, or the air.
'Such a one did I meet, good sir,
Such an angelic face,
Who like a queen, like a nymph, did appear
By her gait, by her grace.'
She hath left me here all alone,
All alone, as unknown,
Who sometimes did me lead with herself,
And me loved as her own.
'What's the cause that she leaves you alone,
And a new way doth take,
Who loved you once as her own,
And her joy did you make?'
I have lov'd her all my youth;
But now old, as you see,
Love likes not the falling fruit
From the withered tree.
Know that Love is a careless child,
And forgets promise past;
He is blind, he is deaf when he list,
And in faith never fast.
His desire is a dureless content,
And a trustless joy:
He is won with a world of despair,
And is lost with a toy.
Of womenkind such indeed is the love,
Or the word love abus'd,
Under which many childish desires
And conceits are excus'd.
But true love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never old, never dead,
From itself never turning.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet 43: Fair Eyes, Sweet Lips
Fair eyes, sweet lips, dear heart, that foolish I
Could hope by Cupid's help on you to prey;
Since to himself he doth your gifts apply,
As his main force, choice sport, and easeful stay.
For when he will see who dare him gainsay,
Then with those eyes he looks, lo by and by
Each soul doth at Love's feet his weapons lay,
Glad if for her he give them leave to die.
When he will play, then in her lips he is,
Where blushing red, that Love's self them doth love,
With either lip he doth the other kiss:
But when he will for quiet's sake remove
From all the world, her heart is then his room
Where well he knows, no man to him can come.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love's Abiding Power
Nary doth exist sentiment nor singular symbology
To proffer riposte to ardor, nor draw an analogy!
Should there be a means by which to capture its essence,
Or might the same extenuate love's very pleasance! ? !
The rose: perchance, most lovely amongst all flowers-
Yet, its glory doth fade to surly wither, within mere hours!
An amorous epistolary finds too soon, its desition's immenence,
Which doth seem to belie true love's unceasing permanence!
Gilded giftings garner gracious gratitude, to be certain-
Its very transiency tolls falsely as though, love's curtain!
The diamond: ever-revered, as love's perfect portend-
Yet still, even the most permanent natural wonders have an end!
Love's abiding power is only ever rivaled by itself, contrariwise-
Yet, is but for the time until love sees fit to aggrandize!
Maurice Harris,19 March 2010
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Beloved's Ardor
One day, not so long since passed, I heard those words, three-
I knew then and there, I had gained my beloved's ardor, truly!
It is I that she doth adore, she did share with me, the same;
As my heart surely hath been thieved-so too her's-I, amorously to blame!
Sikerly I know what the proffer of her heart doth truly mean-
To covet and honor this calling shall I; No finer glory hath my mind's eye e'er seen!
Two worlds of wonder, each universally unique,
Hath once again come together and do seek
What assuredly is the solitary mate for each other's soul,
Looking to reunite with their hearts, which the other stole!
I have seen and do attest to its Empyrean truth;
To agnize like, you need not seek attestation nor even sleuth!
As water seeks its own level, so too doth love, indeed;
Once a love's true compeer hath been met, it must accede!
Maurice Harris,23 May 2010
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love Ever Real
Love in its own oven doth bake
Loving not for own's possessive sake
Ever stumble, slip, bend, but will never break
In its deepest slumber will keep awake
Breaking not what its loving hands doth make
Giving all and seeking none to take
Upon i love, stands even when all at stake
Such is love, ever real and never fake
But when stumbling, bend and later will break
Then it's love given for one's own selfish sake
Whose love its own oven doth not bake
Which in a wink will fold and never wake
But me, O! me be the one who must take
That love, God in his grandeur doth make!
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!