Song For 'Tasso
I.
I loved—alas! our life is love;
But when we cease to breathe and move
I do suppose love ceases too.
I thought, but not as now I do,
Keen thoughts and bright of linked lore,
Of all that men had thought before.
And all that Nature shows, and more.
II.
And still I love and still I think,
But strangely, for my heart can drink
The dregs of such despair, and live,
And love;...
And if I think, my thoughts come fast,
I mix the present with the past,
And each seems uglier than the last.
III.
Sometimes I see before me flee 15
A silver spirit’s form, like thee,
O Leonora, and I sit
...still watching it,
Till by the grated casement’s ledge
It fades, with such a sigh, as sedge
Breathes o’er the breezy streamlet’s edge.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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To A *****
My own Annette! my own Annette!
How often turn my thoughts to thee,
And those sweet hours when erst we met,
And shared our thoughts in converse free!
Around me the soft moonshine pours
A quiet flood of silver light;
And thus o'er memory's hoarded stores,
The star of thought is gleaming bright.
Yet, though long years have glided past,
Since last thy hand was clasp'd in mine,
The chain that friendship o'er us cast,
Hath felt no link of love untwine.
And we may meet in other hours,
And love where we have loved, again;
And talk of all the early flowers
We gather'd on life's by-past plain.
But there are stronger ties than ours,
Remorseless rent by cruel hands;
Torn hearts, o'er which no future hours
Shall fling again the sever'd bands.
Oh! let us weep with those who weep,
Beneath oppression's crushing hand;
And in our thoughts their anguish keep
Who till in tears our guilty land.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When I Behold The Lark
When I behold the lark upspring
To meet the bright sun joyfully,
How he forgets to poise his wing
In his gay spirit's revelry,
Alas! that mournful thoughts should spring
E'en from that happy songster's glee!
Strange, that such gladdening sight should bring
Not joy, but pining care to me!
I thought my heart had known the whole
Of love, but small its knowledge proved.
For still the more my longing soul
Loves on, itself the while unloved:
She stole my heart, myself she stole,
And all I prized from me removed;
She left me but the fierce control
Of vain desires for her I loved.
All self-command is now gone by,
E'er since the luckless hour when she
Became a mirror to my eye,
Whereon I gazed complacently.
Thou fatal mirror! there I spy
Love's image; and my doom shall be,
Like young Narcissus, thus to sigh,
And thus expire, beholding thee.
poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Wrestling Jacob
FIRST PART.
Come, O thou Traveller unknown,
Whom still I hold, but cannot see;
My company before is gone,
And I am left alone with thee;
With thee all night I mean to stay,
And wrestle till the break of day.
I need not tell thee who I am;
My sin and misery declare;
Thyself hast called me by my name;
Look on thy hands, and read it there;
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now.
In vain thou strugglest to get free;
I never will unloose my hold:
Art thou the Man that died for me?
The secret of thy love unfold;
Wrestling, I will not let thee go
Till I thy name, thy nature know.
Wilt thou not yet to me reveal
Thy new, unutterable name?
Tell me, I still beseech thee, tell;
To know it now resolved I am;
Wrestling, I will not let thee go
Till I thy name, thy nature know.
What though my shrinking flesh complain
And murmur to contend so long?
I rise superior to my pain;
When I am weak, then am I strong!
And when my all of strength shall fail,
I shall with the God-man prevail.
SECOND PART.
Yield to me now, for I am weak,
But confident in self-despair;
Speak to my heart, in blessings speak;
Be conquered by my instant prayer;
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if thy name be Love.
'T is Love! 't is Love! Thou diedst for me;
I hear thy whisper in my heart;
The morning breaks, the shadows flee;
Pure, universal Love thou art;
To me, to all, thy bowels move;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
My prayer hath power with God; the grace
Unspeakable I now receive;
Through faith I see thee face to face;
I see thee face to face and live!
In vain I have not wept and strove;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
I know thee, Saviour, who thou art,
Jesus, the feeble sinner's friend;
Nor wilt thou with the night depart,
But stay and love me to the end;
Thy mercies never shall remove;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
The Sun of Righteousness on me
Hath risen, with healing in his wings;
Withered my nature's strength; from thee
My soul its life and succor brings;
My help is all laid up above;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
Contented now upon my thigh
I halt till life's short journey end;
All helplessness, all weakness, I
On thee alone for strength depend;
Nor have I power from thee to move;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
Lame as I am, I take the prey;
Hell, earth, and sin with ease o'ercome;
I leap for joy, pursue my way,
And, as a bounding hart, fly home;
Through all eternity to prove
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
poem by Charles Wesley
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The Thought Of You
It actually frightens me
The though of you
Because there are countless things
That it can make me do
The thought of you can make my heart race
It can leave me restless at night
Can make me fidgety to the point where I pace
The thought of you can leave me buzzing with an unknown high
It can form a pit in my stomach
And can leave me love sick and sighing
The thought of you above all other thoughts in my mind shines
It can send shivers down my spine
And make me long for you to be mine
The thought of you can take my breath away
The thought of you from my mind never really strays
But even though the thought of you can send me flying sky high
I'm not gonna lie
I haven't forgotten my heartaching past
Which is why part of me hopes this infatuation doesn't last
But until the thought of you finally fades away
I guess I'll enjoy it
After all
Who knows how long the thought of you will be here to stay
poem by Tiger Lily Love
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Hopeless Romantic
i should've thought twice
but i didn't so when agony was in my heart
it stopped to take a slice
now i'm falling apart.
i guess i am, i guess you could call me
a hopeless romantic
love isdragging me down, baby
and my heart is in panic.
i thought i could trust her
but damn, i was wrong
well i can do better
so long.
pain followed close behind
as i approached love's light
love is blind
but it's not out of sight.
i tried to find you
while i thought i had healed
because i thought i loved you
but the truth had been revealed.
you don't return the love
but now my heart is no longer frantic
i suppose i'll have to look elsewhere for love
i suppose i'm a hopeless romantic.
poem by Alex Manson
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A Heartfelt Letter Unsigned
It seems I am only good with words
When I write them in my silent hours
Of all the things I have wished to say
But never found the moment or courage
I find myself saddened by my thoughts
All of which surround my thoughts of you
I think you are amazing, kind and so strong
You are beautiful in many ways I cannot count
Your nature and spirit I have come to know
Shows you to be funny and loving
You put a spring in my heart, a song in my step
I would love to hold you each night
Look after way and love you always
But alas, a time has come I must face
That moment of courage and opportunity
I think it matters not anyway
I have listened to my mind and heart argue
And wish I could look through any eyes
Other my own, when I look at you
A time has come to say goodbye, to move on
I wish to take you from my heart
Place you by my side as a friend and nothing more
If only my thoughts were not my own
If only I could look through another’s eyes
Perhaps I would not need to write these words
Because moving on from you
Is the hardest most difficult decision in life
You will always be so beautiful to me
And in loving you I must say goodbye
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The First Grey Hair
NO, let it stay. It speaks but truth:
My Autumn's day is dawning.
The dream is past; sweet dream of youth.
Hair, I accept thy warning.
With mournful thought, my spirit swells,
At the wild chime of memory bells.
Why will we in the present time,
Of by-gone days be dreaming?
Say, why throughout the storm sublime,
Is lightning ever gleaming?
Ah! there is naught on earth that quells
The chiming of sad memory bells.
Hope, garlands fair of future bliss,
With Fancy's pearls is weaving;
Alas! we find in world like this,
That Hope too is deceiving,
As on the past, our full heart dwells,
At your sad chiming, memory bells.
In youth all Earth was passing bright,
And life with joy was teeming —
But hidden in each flower was blight,
And happiness was seeming.
Yet charm me with your mystic spells —
With your sweet chiming, memory bells.
Why speak ye of the cruel wrong,
That I am ever grieving?
I would forget, forgive, be strong,
With faith in Christ, believing.
But oh! the strain triumphant knells —
Cease, cease your clashing, memory bells.
Avaunt, dark image of despair!
Why dost thou still go raving?
I would to Lethe's streams repair,
And drown thy taunts in laving.
Alas! can nothing still thy yells?
Cease, cease your clashing, memory bells.
Now mournful is the solemn strain,
And sadly I am weeping.
For those I love in battle slain,
Who all unknown are sleeping,
Like murmuring of ocean shells,
Swells your sad requiem, memory bells.
Now much loved voices in their glee
Their joyous shouts are sending;
And the sweet chorus, light and free,
Of many a song is blending,
Yet bitter tear-drops, sad fare-wells,
Melt in your chiming, memory bells.
Yet I would fain recall the past,
The bright celestial gleaming,
Which my first love around me cast,
Too sweet to be but dreaming.
Like flowing water, in lone dells,
Is your sweet chiming, memory bells.
Yes, silver hair, rest thee in peace,
I know that life is waning,
That soon will all my troubles cease,
And I, the goal attaining,
Will list the joy your music tells,
And love your chiming, memory bells.
poem by Mary Eliza Perine Tucker Lambert
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0226 Self-hate, Self-love
When did you cease to love, then hate, yourself?
What terrible event? How long ago?
What slight misunderstanding, view of self,
that led to fading love, then bitter hate?
What silent judgment of yourself, believed,
without a witness, umpire, counsel, friend?
Where was that childhood friend you loved, called 'God',
who knew you better than you knew yourself,
and understood your every thought and act?
What black and vicious weed grew secretly
while all your thoughts - you thought - were of the Good?
What demon whispered sweet and viciously?
Alas, no clue as yet. The only way,
to love that self that never went away.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Sonnet: True Love
If love be love that’s truly from two hearts,
If love be love that’s born aright in mind,
If love be love that’s full of divine thoughts,
The corporeal need isn’t there, you’ll find!
For, lovers true can live their lives afar,
Their hearts beating in unison as one;
Their thoughts of love, no force on earth can mar;
Their happy past can render mirth when lone!
And love that’s true will not with time abate;
It will remain afresh, always endless;
Though life takes them thro’ roads apart by fate,
Their love will stay in spite of all duress.
Why then worry if love can’t fuse bodies?
True love will grow in minds and never cease!
poem by John Celes
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Struggles Cease - after William Shakespeare Sonnet XLVII
Struggles cease as heart and eye ally
And each to each good turns does sans delay: -
Now may they twine as heart, with inner eye
Garners reflection fair of peerless traits.
The heart refreshed is eyeing every part,
Open eye's fulfilled, heart's welcome guest,
Moreover neither rush, wait other's start,
As hearts signed, sealed, are mutually impressed.
Mention Present, Past is shadow dim
As Present, passed, fair Future’s bells ring bright,
United are all three: ‘us’, ‘her’, ‘him’s’ hymn,
Draws trinity’s divinity in sight.
Eye may make no mistake, beyond day's shore,
Charmed knight returns to one he’d e’er adore.
12 June 2008
Happy Birthday M C!
After William Shakespeare
Shakespeare Sonnet XLVII
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other:
When that mine eye is famish’d for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:
So, either by thy picture or my love,
Thyself away art present still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them and they with thee;
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Song. I will weave for thee a wreath, love
I will weave for thee a wreath, love,
Of roses bright and fair;
I will breathe for thee a sigh, love,
As I twine it mid thy hair.
Thy cheek is softly blushing, love,
The rose has tinged thy brow,
The sigh has it revealed, love,
All I may not avow?
Ah! pardon the presumption, love,
Of one who owns thy spell;
I may not linger near thee, love,
Farewell!—sweet maid—farewell!
poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth
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Hymn XXVI: I Thirst, Thou Wounded Lamb of God
I thirst, thou wounded Lamb of God,
To wash me in thy cleansing blood,
To dwell within thy wounds; then pain
Is sweet, and life or death is gain.
Take my poor heart, and let it be
For ever closed to all but thee!
Seal thou my breast, and let me we;
That pledge of love for ever there!
How blest are they who still abide
Close sheltered in thy bleeding side,
Who life and strength from thence derive,
And by thee move, and in thee live.
What are our works but sin and death,
Till thou thy quickening Spirit breathe!
Thou giv'st the power thy grace to move;
O wondrous grace! O boundless love!
How can it be, thou heavenly King,
That thou shouldst us to glory bring?
Make slaves the partners of thy throne,
Decked with a never-fading crown?
Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o'erflow,
Our words are lost; nor will we know,
Nor will we think of aught beside,
'My Lord, my Love is crucified.'
Ah, Lord! enlarge our scanty thought,
To know the wonders thou hast wrought;
Unloose our stammering tongues, to tell
Thy love immense, unsearchable.
First-born of many brethren thou!
To thee, lo! all our souls we bow:
To thee our hearts and hands we give:
Thine may we die, thine may we live!
poem by Charles Wesley
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Beppo
Why are thou sad, my Beppo? But last eve,
Here at my feet, thy dear head on my breast,
I heard thee say thy heart would no more grieve
Or feel the olden ennui and unrest.
What troubles thee? Am I not all thine own –
I, so long sought, so sighed for and so dear?
And do I not live but for thee alone?
“Thou hast seen Lippo, whom I loved last year! ”
Well, what of that? Last year is naught to me –
‘Tis swallowed in the ocean of the past.
Art thou not glad ‘twas Lippo, and not thee,
Whose brief bright day in that great gulf was cast?
Thy day is all before thee. Let no cloud,
Here in the very morn of our delight,
Drift up from distant foreign skies, to shroud
Our sun of love whose radiance is so bright.
“Thou art not first? ” Nay, and he who would be
Defeats his own heart’s dearest purpose then.
No truer truth was ever told to thee –
Who has loved most, he best can love again.
If Lippo (and not he alone) has taught
The arts that please thee, wherefore art thou sad?
Since all my vast love-lore to thee is brought,
Look up and smile, my Beppo, and be glad.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Grown And Flown
I loved my love from green of Spring
Until sere Autumn's fall;
But now that leaves are withering
How should one love at all?
One heart's too small
For hunger, cold, love, everything.
I loved my love on sunny days
Until late Summer's wane;
But now that frost begins to glaze
How should one love again ?
Nay, love and pain
Walk wide apart in diverse ways.
I loved my love - alas to see
That this should be, alas!
I thought that this could scarcely be,
Yet has it come to pass:
Sweet sweet love was,
Now bitter bitter grown to me.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Few Believe In Love
All i’ve got in my head is all this mess
and when I try to confess, I think I need a bless
its all this running around, running till despair
and when I try to repair, id really like to be dead
So many people trying to find
someone so nice and someone who likes
everybody wants to have some love
but nobody really thinks of love
of love, of love, of love
Ive been watching you, watching all your thoughts goin around
you kept me lying underground
but then you wondered why I’m not found
its all this running around, running till despair
and when I try to repair, id really like to be dead
So many people trying to find
someone so nice and someone who likes
everybody wants to have some love
but nobody really thinks of love
of love, of love, of love
poem by Frosted Fire
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Hymn XXVI: I Thirst, Thou Wounded Lamb of God
I thirst, thou wounded Lamb of God,
To wash me in thy cleansing blood,
To dwell within thy wounds; then pain
Is sweet, and life or death is gain.
Take my poor heart, and let it be
For ever closed to all but thee!
Seal thou my breast, and let me we;
That pledge of love for ever there!
How blest are they who still abide
Close sheltered in thy bleeding side,
Who life and strength from thence derive,
And by thee move, and in thee live.
What are our works but sin and death,
Till thou thy quickening Spirit breathe!
Thou giv'st the power thy grace to move;
O wondrous grace! O boundless love!
How can it be, thou heavenly King,
That thou shouldst us to glory bring?
Make slaves the partners of thy throne,
Decked with a never-fading crown?
Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o'erflow,
Our words are lost; nor will we know,
Nor will we think of aught beside,
"My Lord, my Love is crucified."
Ah, Lord! enlarge our scanty thought,
To know the wonders thou hast wrought;
Unloose our stammering tongues, to tell
Thy love immense, unsearchable.
First-born of many brethren thou!
To thee, lo! all our souls we bow:
To thee our hearts and hands we give:
Thine may we die, thine may we live!
poem by John Wesley
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Tears
Thank You, Baby
For The Years You've Given Me
For Each Beat Of My Heart
For Every Breath I Breathe
Thank You, Sweetie
For The Best Times Of My Life
Through The Good, Through The Bad
You Were Always By My Side
I Never Thought I Meet Someone
Who Loves Unselfishly
But I Appreciate The Way You Loved
And Sacrificed For Me
Chorus
I Can't Hold Back These Tears
Let Me Cry
(Although A Man's Not Suppose To Cry)
If I Hold Back My Tears
I'll Just Die
(You've Given So Much To My Life)
Thank You, Lady
For The Joy You Bring To Life
When I Thought All Was Lost And Gone
You Brought Hope Back In Sight
Thank You, Honey
For Being My Best Friend
When I Thought No One Understood
You Would Always Understand
I Used To Think That I Knew Love
And What True Love Should Mean
Now I Know That I Did Not Know Much
'Cause You Taught Me Everything
Chorus
God So Loved The World
That He Blessed Us All With You
And Then He Gave Me A Heart
Now I'm Giving It To You
And These Tears I Cry Are Tears Of Joy
My Happiness, I Do Rejoice
In The Love You Give Unselfishly
Your Constant Sacrifice For Me
Chorus
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 47: Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other,
When that mine eye is famished for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.
So, either by thy picture or my love,
Thyself, away, art present still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee;
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Open Your Heart
Tis' one life you have,
Open your heart to love.
Love your wife, your son,
Daughter, husband, or special one.
Friends never turn away-
Open your heart to love every day.
Your scars will be many;
Much pain there will be.
Knives will cut deep;
Your eyes will for years weep.
At times you will wonder,
Is it really worth it all?
To love, feel, and cry,
Or to raise walls and inside die?
The latter seems the safer,
But behind walls doth one falter.
For we were made to live,
To love, breathe, and give.
To hide behind the walls,
Slowly one falls.
Petrified till no longer a soul,
Just grey stone, dead and cold.
Never able to move beyond,
The wail of a heart break song.
Forever in the past,
Never in the future, this his cast.
Never the chance feel,
The warmth of love so real;
The closeness of a friend,
When you are facing the bitter end.
Just a life of reclusion,
Doomed to seclusion.
A life wasted, a life for nothing.
A life of pain and bluffing.
Woe to sad memory,
But happy ones will never flee.
To love and live,
Or to die all stiff.
The choice is all yours,
What will be your course?
Please please open your heart,
Though it may be oft torn apart.
For if you don't ever,
True life experience you will never.
Tis' one life you have:
Open your heart to love.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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To the Memory of
I once could hope—alas! no more
Her bright wings wave for me;
The sunlit hours of life are o'er,
I weep, dear love, for thee!
And in those tears—and in that sigh
Will fond remembrance dwell;
'Tis all remains when dear ones lie
Within death's darksome cell.
So young! so pure!—alas! that thou
In marble tomb should sleep!
And leave the weary heart and brow
Thy vigils lone to keep.
And yet 'tis better thus than feel
The crushed heart's mad despair;
Alas! no balm those woes may heal
Love—death—have planted there.
Farewell! farewell! my buried love,
No pangs may wring thy heart;
Enough for me to gaze above,
To meet where none may part!
poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth
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