Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feeling as to sight? or art thou but a dagger of the mind, a false creation, proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
William Shakespeare in Macbeth
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
I Was Not False To Thee
I WAS not false to thee, and yet
My cheek alone looked pale;
My weary eye was dim and wet,
My strength began to fail.
Thou wert the same; thy looks were gay,
Thy step was light and free;
And yet, with truth, my heart can say,
I was not false to thee!
I was not false to thee, yet now
Thou hast a cheerful eye,
With flushing cheek and drooping brow
I wander mournfully.
I hate to meet the gaze of men,
I weep where none can see;
Why do I only suffer, when
I was not false to thee?
I was not false to thee; yet oh!
How scornfully they smile,
Who see me droop, who guess my woe,
Yet court thee all the while.
'Tis strange! but when long years are past,
Thou wilt remember me;
Whilst I can feel until the last,
I was not false to thee!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Intrigue
THOU art my love
And thou art the peace of sundown
When the blue shadows soothe
And the grasses and the leaves sleep
To the song of the little brooks
Woe is me.
Thou art my love,
And thou art a storm
That breaks black in the sky
And, sweeping headlong,
Drenches and cowers each tree
And at the panting end
There is no sound
Save the melancholy cry of a single owl
Woe is me!
Thou art my love
And thou art a tinsel thing
And I in my play
Broke thee easily
And from the little fragments
Arose my long sorrow
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a weary violet
Drooping from sun-caresses.
Answering mine carelessly
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art the ashes of other men's love
And I bury my face in these ashes
And I love them
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art the beard
On another man's face
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a temple
And in this temple is an altar
And on this altar is my heart
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a wretch.
Let these sacred love-lies choke thee
For I am come to where I know your lies as truth
And your truth as lies
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a priestess
And in thy hand is a bloody dagger
And my doom comes to me surely
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a skull with ruby eyes
And I love thee
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And I doubt thee
And if peace came with my murder
Then would I murder
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art death
Aye, thou art death
Black and yet black
But I love thee
I love thee
Woe, welcome woe, to me.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Remember Thee! Remember Thee!
Remember thee! remember thee!
Till Lethe quench life's burning stream
Remorse and shame shall cling to thee,
And haunt thee like a feverish dream!
Remember thee! Aye, doubt it not.
Thy husband too shall think of thee:
By neither shalt thou be forgot,
Thou false to him, thou fiend to me!
poem by Byron (1812)
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To Her Sea-Faring Lover
SHALL I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare?
And shall I still complain to thee, the which me will not hear?
Alas! say nay! say nay! and be no more so dumb,
But open thou thy manly mouth and say that thou wilt come:
Whereby my heart may think, although I see not thee,
That thou wilt come--thy word so sware--if thou a live man be.
The roaring hugy waves they threaten my poor ghost,
And toss thee up and down the seas in danger to be lost.
Shall they not make me fear that they have swallowed thee?
--But as thou art most sure alive, so wilt thou come to me.
Whereby I shall go see thy ship ride on the strand,
And think and say Lo where he comes and Sure here will he land:
And then I shall lift up to thee my little hand,
And thou shalt think thine heart in ease, in health to see me stand.
And if thou come indeed (as Christ thee send to do!)
Those arms which miss thee now shall then embrace [and hold] thee too:
Each vein to every joint the lively blood shall spread
Which now for want of thy glad sight doth show full pale and dead.
But if thou slip thy troth, and do not come at all,
As minutes in the clock do strike so call for death I shall:
To please both thy false heart and rid myself from woe,
That rather had to die in troth than live forsaken so!
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Thee, God, I Come from
Thee, God, I come from, to thee go,
All day long I like fountain flow
From thy hand out, swayed about
Mote-like in thy mighty glow.
What I know of thee I bless,
As acknowledging thy stress
On my being and as seeing
Something of thy holiness.
Once I turned from thee and hid,
Bound on what thou hadst forbid;
Sow the wind I would; I sinned:
I repent of what I did.
Bad I am, but yet thy child.
Father, be thou reconciled.
Spare thou me, since I see
With thy might that thou art mild.
I have life before me still
And thy purpose to fulfil;
Yea a debt to pay thee yet:
Help me, sir, and so I will.
But thou bidst, and just thou art,
Me shew mercy from my heart
Towards my brother, every other
Man my mate and counterpart.
. . . . . . . .
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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To Her Sea-faring Lover
SHALL I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare?
And shall I still complain to thee, the which me will not hear?
Alas! say nay! say nay! and be no more so dumb,
But open thou thy manly mouth and say that thou wilt come:
Whereby my heart may think, although I see not thee,
That thou wilt come--thy word so sware--if thou a live man be.
The roaring hugy waves they threaten my poor ghost,
And toss thee up and down the seas in danger to be lost.
Shall they not make me fear that they have swallowed thee?
--But as thou art most sure alive, so wilt thou come to me.
Whereby I shall go see thy ship ride on the strand,
And think and say Lo where he comes and Sure here will he land:
And then I shall lift up to thee my little hand,
And thou shalt think thine heart in ease, in health to see me stand.
And if thou come indeed (as Christ thee send to do!)
Those arms which miss thee now shall then embrace [and hold] thee too:
Each vein to every joint the lively blood shall spread
Which now for want of thy glad sight doth show full pale and dead.
But if thou slip thy troth, and do not come at all,
As minutes in the clock do strike so call for death I shall:
To please both thy false heart and rid myself from woe,
That rather had to die in troth than live forsaken so!
The Apparation
When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead
And that thou think'st thee free
From all solicitation from me,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee, feign'd vestal, in worse arms shall see;
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,
And he, whose thou art then, being tir'd before,
Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think
Thou call'st for more,
And in false sleep will from thee shrink;
And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected thou
Bath'd in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie
A verier ghost than I.
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,
Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,
I'had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,
Than by my threat'nings rest still innocent.
poem by John Donne
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The Apparition
WHEN by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead,
And that thou thinkst thee free
From all solicitation from me,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee, feign'd vestal, in worse arms shall see:
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,
And he, whose thou art then, being tired before,
Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think
Thou call'st for more,
And, in false sleep, will from thee shrink:
And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected thou
Bathed in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie,
A verier ghost than I.
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,
Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,
I'd rather thou shouldst painfully repent,
Than by my threatenings rest still innocent.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Extinguish Thou My Eyes
Extinguish Thou my eyes:I still can see Thee,
deprive my ears of sound:I still can hear Thee,
and without feet I still can come to Thee,
and without voice I still can call to Thee.
Sever my arms from me, I still will hold Thee
with all my heart as with a single hand,
arrest my heart, my brain will keep on beating,
and Should Thy fire at last my brain consume,
the flowing of my blood will carry Thee.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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The Curse of Kehama
I charm thy life,
From the weapons of strife,
From stone and from wood,
From fire and from flood,
From the serpent’s tooth,
And the beast of blood.
From sickness I charm thee,
And time shall not harm thee;
But earth, which is mine,
Its fruits shall deny thee;
And water shall hear me,
And know thee and flee thee:
And the winds shall not touch thee
When they pass by thee,
And the dews shall not wet thee
When they fall nigh thee.
And thou shalt seek death,
To release thee, in vain;
Thou shalt live in thy pain,
While Kehama shall reign,
With a fire in thy heart,
And a fire in thy brain.
And sleep shall obey me,
And visit thee never,
And the curse shall be on thee
Forever and ever.
poem by Robert Southey
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To Thee, Old Cause!
TO thee, old Cause!
Thou peerless, passionate, good cause!
Thou stern, remorseless, sweet Idea!
Deathless throughout the ages, races, lands!
After a strange, sad war--great war for thee,
(I think all war through time was really fought, and ever will be
really fought, for thee;)
These chants for thee--the eternal march of thee.
Thou orb of many orbs!
Thou seething principle! Thou well-kept, latent germ! Thou centre!
Around the idea of thee the strange sad war revolving, 10
With all its angry and vehement play of causes,
(With yet unknown results to come, for thrice a thousand years,)
These recitatives for thee--my Book and the War are one,
Merged in its spirit I and mine--as the contest hinged on thee,
As a wheel on its axis turns, this Book, unwitting to itself,
Around the Idea of thee.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Thou Flower Of Summer
When in summer thou walkest
In the meads by the river,
And to thyself talkest,
Dost thou think of one ever--
A lost and a lorn one
That adores thee and loves thee?
And when happy morn's gone,
And nature's calm moves thee,
Leaving thee to thy sleep like an angel at rest,
Does the one who adores thee still live in thy breast?
Does nature eer give thee
Love's past happy vision,
And wrap thee and leave thee
In fancies elysian?
Thy beauty I clung to,
As leaves to the tree;
When thou fair and young too
Looked lightly on me,
Till love came upon thee like the sun to the west
And shed its perfuming and bloom on thy breast.
poem by John Clare
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To Mary
If I had thought thou couldst have died,
I might not weep for thee;
But I forgot, when by thy side,
That thou couldst mortal be:
It never through my mind had past
The time would e'er be o'er,
And I on thee should look my last,
And thou shouldst smile no more!
And still upon that face I look,
And think 'twill smile again;
And still the thought I will not brook,
That I must look in vain.
But when I speak—thou dost not say
What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;
And now I feel, as well I may,
Sweet Mary, thou art dead!
If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,
All cold and all serene—
I still might press thy silent heart,
And where thy smiles have been.
While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have,
Thou seemest still mine own;
But there—I lay thee in thy grave,
And I am now alone!
I do not think, where'er thou art,
Thou hast forgotten me;
And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart
In thinking too of thee:
Yet there was round thee such a dawn
Of light ne'er seen before,
As fancy never could have drawn,
And never can restore!
poem by Charles Wolfe
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I Will Not Let Thee Go
I will not let thee go.
Ends all our month-long love in this?
Can it be summed up so,
Quit in a single kiss?
I will not let thee go.
I will not let thee go.
If thy words' breath could scare thy deeds,
As the soft south can blow
And toss the feathered seeds,
Then might I let thee go.
I will not let thee go.
Had not the great sun seen, I might;
Or were he reckoned slow
To bring the false to light,
Then might I let thee go.
I will not let thee go.
The stars that crowd the summer skies
Have watched us so below
With all their million eyes,
I dare not let thee go.
I will not let thee go.
Have we chid the changeful moon,
Now rising late, and now
Because she set too soon,
And shall I let thee go?
I will not let thee go.
Have not the young flowers been content,
Plucked ere their buds could blow,
To seal our sacrament?
I cannot let thee go.
I will not let thee go.
I hold thee by too many bands:
Thou sayest farewell, and lo!
I have thee by the hands,
And will not let thee go.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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Perumaal 13-18
13 No salt, agreed where Thee to Markandeya
Wedded where Thee to Lakshmi by Thou heart
So to impart where Thou excellence matchless
where with Bhoomidevi, Tulasidevi Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of Thiruvinnagar(Oppiliappan koil)
That accolades Ennappan, Ponnappan, Maniappan, Muthappan
Hey Oppiliappa, Venkatappa, vision.I surrender
14 Ascetic Medhaavi's austerity where bore Mahalakshmi
Her damsel-beauty Where Thee captured in marriage
Beseen where Thee in split five personae
Vanjulavalli where with Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thirunaraiyur(Naachiar Koil)
That bears highly weighty mighty Thou Garuda
Hey Thirunaraiyur Nambi, vision I surrender
15 His mud-pot for creation whence Brahma made
Kaveri's penance where gained Ganga's stature
Kaveri's wishful child where Thee improvised
Where with Saranayaki Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thirucherai
That sings Thee in Thirumangai's praises
Hey Santhana Perumaal, vision I surrender
16 Penance where at Badhrivanam Mahalakshmi did
Dharshana Pushkarani where had Mahalakshmi ablution
Well then Mahalakshmi where to Thee married
Abhishegavalli where with Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of Thirukannamangai
That praises Thee in Thirumangai's heart
Hey, Bhktavatsala, vision I surrender
17 Visioned where Thou walking elegance Vibhishana
Vanquished where Thou discus demon Vikataksha
Padmavathi to marry where Thee fished
Where with Kannapuranayaki Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thirukannapuram
That hymns Thee in Thirumangai's heart
Hey Sowriraja, vision, I surrender
18 Where for Thirumangai stayed Bakula tree immortal
Where for Thirumangai stood tamarind tree sleepless
Whereat Thirumangai won the thievery-case
Lokanayaki where with Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thirukannangudi
That sings the Mangai-myth of a well Thine
Hey Lokanatha, vision, I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Perumaal 7-12
7 Curse relieved where Shiva in Thou domicile
Rid He where of the Brahmmakapalam
Thou presence where Agasthya visioned
Where with Kamalavalli Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of Thirukandiyur
That proclaims Thee in Alwar Thirumangai's heart
Hey Harasaapa Vimochana, vision, I surrender
8 Meaningful Thou incarnation where blessed Nandaka
All the Devas blessed where along with
Queen Mangamma where restituted Thou shrine
Padmasini where with Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thirukoodaloor
That glorifies Thee in Thirumangai's verses
Hey, Vaiyamkatha Perumal, vision I surrender
9 Conferred on where Anjaneya title 'Chiranjeevi'
Salvaged Gajendra where from crocodile
All Thou mercy where sang Alwar Thirumangai
Where with RamamaniThee blessing
To Thou abode that of Kapisthalam
That bears Thee bedded on Adisesha
Hey, Gajendravarada, vision, I surrender
10 Thou beneficence bound where to Jatayu
Cautioned to Thee who of abducted Seetha
Thou mercy where did Jatayu's last rites
Hemambhujavalli where with Thee served
To Thou abode that of Pullam Bhoothangudi
That streams with Thee in Thirumanga's heart
Hey, ValvilRama, vision, I surrender
11Swarding paddy stealthy where Thou art
Accounting where with talipot and stylus our actions
Rewarding the worthy where with justified measure
Where with Ranganayaki Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of Thiruadanoor
That amounts Thine mercy and marakkal
Hey Aandalakkum Iyya, vision, I surrender
12Nectar-pot of creation rescued where from deluge
Flown Amrith formed where the tanks and Kumbeshwar
Pasurams compiled blessed Nadamuni where by Aravamudan
Thee wedded where Komalavalli as Sarangapani
To Thou abode that of Thirukudanthai
That sings in Alwars pasurams Thou Sarangam
Hey Sarangapani, vision, I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Perumaal 19-24
19 To Thou couch be, Adisesha where penanced
Charismatic Thee where Thirumangai astounded
Dhruva where at magnetic Thee hallowed
Where with Soundharyavalli Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thirunaagai(Nagapattinam)
That bears Adisesha, his causal name
Hey, Neelamega, Soundararaja, vision I surrender
20 Vanquished where Thee Thandakan, Gajamukhan
Vanquished where Thee Thanjakan
Shrined victorious where Thee thrice
Senkamalavalli where thrice with Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thiruthanjamaamani koil
That decrees Thou valour in paasurams
Hey Neelamegaperumaal, vision I surrender
21Espousal Thou eternal, Lakshmi where penanced for
Afflicted Nandi where by Thee solaced
Sacred soil Thine where fertile and fecund
Where with Shanpakavalli Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of NathanKoil(Thirunandhipuravinnagaram)
That pictured Rama for heart Thirumangai's
Hey Jagannatha, Nathanatha, vision, I surrender
22Cured vision-cursed Sukra where Thee eyeful
Mayan asuras' for Thou bliss where penanced
Elated where appeared Thee as Rama
Maragathavalli where with Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of Thiruvelliankudi
That praises Thee in paasurams Thirumangai
Hey KolavilRama, vision I surrender
23Cursed his chariot fell with where Uparisaravasu
Cursed his settlement where settled Thee devas, rishis
Brahma's repentance delivered where Thee with cows
Where with Senkamalavalli Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thiruvazhundur(Therezhundur)
That bore Kamban, the Tamil poet
Hey DevaadiRaja, Aamaruviappa, vision I surrender
24 Vainglorious Garuda where Thee conquered
To Adisesha where cherubic Thou grace gifted
Penancing Vyagrapaada where Thee salvaged
Thirumaamagal where with Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thiruchirupuliyur
That in verses Thirumangai praises Thee
Hey Arumaakkadal, vision, I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
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They Shall Not Know
When thou art happy, thou dear heart of pleasure,
Because men love thee and the feasts are spread,
And Fortune in thy lap has poured her treasure,
And Spring is there and roses crown thy head,
Then think of one who loved thee for his woe,
And, if thou sigh
With others by,
They shall not know.
When thou art silent in thy day of trouble,
Because fools vex and thou hast rivals found
And love has played thee falser than a bubble
And memory stings and grief is as a wound,
Then think of one whose hand first soothed thy brow,
And, if a smile
Thy tears beguile,
These shall not know.
When all is ended, thou pale ghost of sorrow,
And time's last flower is gathered from the grove,
And yesterday to thee is as to--morrow
And there is none to speak to thee of love,
Then sing these songs one made thee long ago,
And men shall swear
Thou still art fair--
Yet shall not know.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Perumaal 31-36
31Vanquishing Ravana Rama wished whereafter to atone
A golden cow whereon offered to a brahmin
Thou abode where of gold, brahmin built
Allimaamalar where with Manavalan favouring Shiva
To Thou abode that of ThirusemponseyKoil
That in pasurams Thirumangai versifies
Hey HemaRanga, vision, I surrender
32 Lamping Thou luminance eternal in'Nanda Vilakku'
Thou abode amid where mansioned beauty
Narayana where from Badrika descended
Where with Pundarikavalli Thee bestowing Shiva
To Thou abode that of ThirumanimadaKoil
That illumes in verses Thirumangai
Hey Narayana, Nanda, vision, I surrender
33 Thou persona where like Thine at Vaikunta
Descended where fulgent surpassing crored suns
Armed four armoured where with weapons
Vaikuntavalli where with Thee blessing Shiva
To Thou abode that of Thiruvaikuntavinnagaram
That praises Thee in Thirumangai's heart
Hey Vaikuntanatha, vision, I surrender
34 Mien Thou presence where as LakshmiNarasimha
Poornavalli where with Thee in proximity
Thou embracing whereat with Amrithavalli
Preached Thee Narayana mantra where to Thirumangai
To Thou abode that of Thiruvali, ThiruNagari
That presents Thee juxtaposed to Shiva
Hey Vedaraja, vision, I surrender
35 Descended Thee where from Thiruvidanthai
Espoused Thee where Thou Lakshmi
Thou wedding wherefor deavas congregated
Kadalmagalnachiyar where with Thee gracing Shiva
To Thou abode that of Thirudevanarthogai
That accolades Thou Madhava Thirumangai
Hey Deivanayaka, vision, I surrender
36 Thou repose where on Adisesha four armed
Descended Thee where from Arangam
Thou eyes beauteous where wakeful, blissful
Where with Senkamalavalli Thee blessing Shiva
To Thou abode that of Thiruthetriambalam
That praises Thee in Thirumangai's heart
Hey LakshmiRanga, vision, I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sonnet: On Calumny
Be thou a saint and yet the world won't spare;
Be thou most chaste and yet, most tongues will talk;
Be thou a crook and yet people don't care;
Be thou a tiger yet, some men will stalk.
Be thou cruel and yet the world will praise;
Be thou too kind and yet the world will taunt;
Be thou rigid and yet the world can't face;
Be thou timid and yet the world will haunt;
Be thou selfish and yet the world loves thee;
Be thou selfless and yet the world thee hates;
Be thou goodly and yet you are not free;
Be thou evil and yet the world thee mates.
Be thou yourself and yet the world finds fault;
Be thou anything, yet the world will vault.
poem by John Celes
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