Samson to his Delilah
Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice?
When first I look'd on thee, I lost mine eyes.
poem by Richard Crashaw
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Related quotes
Divine Epigrams: Samson to his Delilah
Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice?
When first I look'd on thee, I lost mine eyes.
poem by Richard Crashaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Need not be mine
To the woman I flirt with:
“You need not be mine;
You need not become mine;
You need not get stolen.
If I live in thy heart
And am buried in thy eyes,
It will suffice my wants.’
17.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Does silence suffice...
Does silence suffice when you care for someone
But friendship is the most they can give
Does silence suffice when friendship is offered
But it’s just not enough
Does silence suffice when your hearts been broken
But you can’t say goodbye
Does silence suffice when he claims to really care
But is too busy to say Happy Birthday
Does silence suffice when you think about him again and again
But your pride and your pain tells you
That... silence does suffice
poem by Anna Kelly
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Why Must This Be
OH WHY MUST THIS BE
Mine eyes bleed
With the sorrow of yesterday
Mine heart breaks
At dawns breaking grace
Mine arms tremble
As thine leaves me with broken heart
Mine mind seeks
To calm the chaos of thoughts
I can no longer see thee
I can no longer share the dawn with thee
I can no longer hold thee in my arms
Oh why must this be?
Have I sinned to make thee depart from these arms?
Have I sinned to make thee break my heart in two?
Have I sinned to make thee tarnish our future blue?
Oh why must this be?
For I am still madly in love with thee
I say unto thee take my heart
For now it is forever yours
© Copyright Kaila George 2012
poem by Kaila George
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Mine Eyes Beg Sight Of Thee
Mine eyes beg sight of thee; mine mind begs, thought;
Mine heart begs consort with thee-for us to be what we ought;
Mine arms beg thine own body, in loving embrace-
Contrariwise, mine own body begs of same, face to face!
Mine own soul begs for thine, as its mate-
Our re-acquaintance made as was, through the powers of fate;
Mine whole life begs for thine own beauty's attestation:
As I bide still, I ruminate upon my futurity's celebration.
Until this time, when we shall meet my beloved, fair thee well:
May we both one day be the story that we lovingly tell.
All that I am begs for all that you are-
In a world with myriad resplendence, you are its brightest star!
Query not why it is that I covet thee as I do,
Ponder only: that in the morrow, more of same shall be gifted, to you!
poem by Maurice Harris
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Selene
My beloved, is it nothing
Though we meet not, neither can,
That I see thee, and thou me,
That we see, and see we see,
When I see I also feel thee;
Is it nothing, my beloved!
Thy luminous clear beauty
Brightens on me in my night,
I withdraw into my darkness
To allure thee into light.
About me and upon me I feel them pass and stay,
About me, deep into me, every lucid tender ray.
And thou, thou also feelest
When thou stealest
Shamefaced and half afraid
To the chamber of thy shade,
Thou in thy turn,
Thou too feelest
Something follow, something yearn,
A full orb blaze and burn.
My full orb upon thine,
As thine erst, gently smiling,
Softly wooing, sweetly wiling,
Gleamed on mine;
So mine on thine in turn
When thou feelest blaze and burn,
Is it nothing, my beloved?
My beloved, is it nothing
When I see thee and thou me,
When we each other see,
Is it nothing, my beloved?
Closer, closer come unto me.
Shall I see thee and no more?
I can see thee, is that all?
Let me also,
Let me feel thee,
Closer, closer, my beloved,
Come unto me, come to me, come
O cruel, cruel lot, still thou rollest, stayest not,
Lookest onward, look’st before,
Yet I follow, evermore.
Oh, cold and cruel fate, thou rollest on thy way,
Scarcely lookest, will not stay,
From thine alien way.
The inevitable motion
Bears me forth upon the line
Whose course I cannot see.
I must move as it conveys me
Evermore. It so must be.
O cold one, and I round thee
Revolve, round only thee,
Straining ever to be nearer
While thou evadest still;
Repellest still, O cold one,
Nay, but closer, closer, closer,
My beloved, come, come, come!
The inevitable motion
Carries both upon its line,
Also you as well as me.
What is best, and what is strongest,
We obey. It so must be.
Cruel, cruel, didst thou only
Feel as I feel evermore,
A force, though in, not of me,
Drawing inward, in, in, in.
Yea, thou shalt though, ere all endeth,
Thou shalt feel me closer, closer,
My beloved, close, close to thee,
Come to thee, come, come, come!
The inevitable motion
Bears us both upon its line
Together, you as me,
Together and asunder,
Evermore. It so must be.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Licia Sonnets 18
I swear, fair Licia, still for to be thine,
By heart, by eyes, by what I held most dear;
Thou checked mine oath, and said: these were not mine,
And that I had no right by them to swear.
Then by my sighs, my passions, and my tears,
My vows, my prayers, my sorrow, and my love,
My grief, my joy, my hope, and hopeless fears,
My heart is thine, and never shall remove.
These are not thine, though sent unto thy view,
All else I grant, by right they are thine own;
Let these suffice that what I swear is true,
And more than this if that it could be known.
So shall all these though troubles ease my grief;
If that they serve to work in thee belief.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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I like the way...
I like the way when Thee are free of mine.
I like the life when mine belong Thee never.
And never heavy Earth will ever fly
From our feet when we have met together.
I like the way when I could be so gay,
And careless, and never pay attention
To words, and not confuse in wave,
That flushes when I see Thee by occasion.
I say Thee 'Thank' by heart and by my hand,
For love, though Thee do hardly know me.
For rest at night, for random meetings band,
For sunshine we do not delight together.
For Thee, alas, get never ill by me.
For me, alas, would bring Thee illness never.
poem by Marina Tsvetaeva, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Hymn XXVII: Saviour, the World's and Mine
Saviour, the world's and mine,
Was ever grief like thine!
Thou my pain, my curse hast took,
All my sins were laid on thee;
Help me, Lord; to thee I look,
Draw me, Saviour, after thee.
'Tis done! my God hath died;
My Love is crucified!
Break, this stony heart of mine;
Pour, mine eyes, a ceaseless flood;
Feel, my soul, the pangs divine;
Catch, my heart, the issuing blood!
When, O my God, shall I
For thee submit to die?
How the mighty debt repay?
Rival of thy passion prove?
Lead me in thyself, the Way;
Melt my hardness into love.
To love is all my wish,
I only live for this;
Grant me, Lord, my heart's desire,
There by faith for ever dwell;
This I always will require,
Thee, and only thee, to feel.
Thy power I pant to prove,
Rooted and fixed in love;
Strengthened by thy Spirit's might,
Wise to fathom things divine,
What the length, and breadth, and height,
What the depth of love like thine.
Ah! give me this to know,
With all thy saints below;
Swells my soul to compass thee,
Gasps in thee to live and move;
Filled with all the Deity,
All immersed and lost in love!
poem by John Wesley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hymn XXVII: Saviour, the World's and Mine
Saviour, the world's and mine,
Was ever grief like thine!
Thou my pain, my curse hast took,
All my sins were laid on thee;
Help me, Lord; to thee I look,
Draw me, Saviour, after thee.
'Tis done! my God hath died;
My Love is crucified!
Break, this stony heart of mine;
Pour, mine eyes, a ceaseless flood;
Feel, my soul, the pangs divine;
Catch, my heart, the issuing blood!
When, O my God, shall I
For thee submit to die?
How the mighty debt repay?
Rival of thy passion prove?
Lead me in thyself, the Way;
Melt my hardness into love.
To love is all my wish,
I only live for this;
Grant me, Lord, my heart's desire,
There by faith for ever dwell;
This I always will require,
Thee, and only thee, to feel.
Thy power I pant to prove,
Rooted and fixed in love;
Strengthened by thy Spirit's might,
Wise to fathom things divine,
What the length, and breadth, and height,
What the depth of love like thine.
Ah! give me this to know,
With all thy saints below;
Swells my soul to compass thee,
Gasps in thee to live and move;
Filled with all the Deity,
All immersed and lost in love!
poem by Charles Wesley
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Unto you
I see you not with mine eyes,
but with mine mind...
I feel you not with mine touch,
but with mine heart...
I love you not with mine body,
but with mine soul...
Until all is lost,
and none behold.
[For M]
20080202©
poem by scarlette Phoenix
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Cruel Summer
Dans la chaleur de la nuit qui s'enroule tout autour de moi
Je marche seule sans savoir pourquoi tu n'es plus l
Ca tourne dans ma tte
Et tout s'arrte
Ta voix me parle tout bas
Je ne sais plus o j'en suis, je ne vois plus que toi
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
The city is crowed
My friends are away
And I'm on my own
It's too handle
So I've got to get up and go
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
Cruel summer, it's a cruel summer Cruel summer, it's a cruel summer
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
Cruel summer, it's a cruel summer Cruel summer, it's a cruel summer
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
It's a crue , cruel summer, c'est fini
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Shall I Woo Thee
How shall I woo thee to win thee, mine own?
Say in what tongue shall I tell of my love.
I who was fearless so timid have grown,
All that was eagle has turned into dove.
The path from the meadow that leads to the bars
Is more to me now than the path of the stars.
How shall I woo thee to win thee, mine own,
Thou who art fair and as far as the moon?
Had I the strength of the torrent's wild tone,
Had I the sweetness of warblers in June;
The strength and the sweetness might charm and persuade,
But neither have I my petition to aid.
How shall I woo thee to win thee, mine own?
How shall I traverse the distance between
My humble cot and your glorious throne?
How shall a clown gain the ear of a queen?
Oh teach me the tongue that shall please thee the best,
For till I have won thee my heart may not rest.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Sonnet 65: Love By Sure Proof
Love by sure proof I may call thee unkind,
That giv'st no better ear to my just cries:
Thou whom to me such my good turns should bind,
As I may well recount, but none can prize:
For when, nak'd boy, thou couldst no harbor find
In this old world, grown now so too too wise,
I lodg'd thee in my heart, and being blind
Bu nature born, I gave to thee mine eyes.
Mine eyes, my light, my heart, my life alas,
If so great services may scorned be,
Yet let this thought thy tigrish courage pass:
That I perhaps am somewhat kin to thee,
Since in thine arms, if learn'd fame truth hath spread,
Thou bear'st the arrow, I the arrowhead.
poem by Philip Sidney
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~Lost~
lost why must i be
lost in this wicked world i see
lost in this society, why me
blinded by the evil visions i see
lost in the dark of the devil
if there were i would be lost on the highest level
why must i be lost in the dreams of mine
but its all real now that i realized
lost lost lost
thats the definition of mine.
poem by Demarcus C. Parker
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Blanche
Breeze! brisk breeze! that movest with the morn!
Breeze! lithe breeze! that creepest through the corn!
Breeze! O breeze! that fannest the forlorn!
Oh linger by the lattice of sweet Blanche of mine!
Breeze! coy breeze! that loiterest for noon!
Breeze! true breeze! that hast a tryst with June!
Breeze! kind breeze! I beg of thee a boon!
Oh peep in through the lattice of poor Blanche of mine!
Breeze! fleet breeze! that goest with the day!
Breeze! dear breeze! that hastenest away!
Breeze! breeze! breeze! I beg of thee to stay,
And breathe upon the pillow of pale Blanche of mine!
Breeze! night-breeze! that wailest on the wold!
Breeze! lost breeze! that wanderest in the cold!
Breeze! dread breeze! oh flit not by the mould
Which shelters what is left me of lost Blanche of mine!
poem by Alfred Austin
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Sonnet XXIII: Time, Cruel Time
Time, cruel Time, come and subdue that brow
Which conquers all but thee, and thee, too, stays
As if she were exempt from scythe or bow,
From love or years unsubject to decays.
Or art thou grown in league with those fair eyes
That they may help thee to consume our days?
Or dost thou spare her for her cruelties,
Being merciless like thee that no man weighs?
And yet thou seest thy power she disobeys,
Cares not for thee, but lets thee waste in vain,
And prodigal of hours and years betrays
Beauty and youth t'opinion and disdain.
Yet spare her, Time, let her exempted be,
She may become more kind to thee or me.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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How Do I Know Thee 07
How does thou know me
How should I compare thee
Does thou remindest me of the sea
Do I compare thee with winter or spring
Should I sing thee a song of land and light
Nay, I shall contrive a sonnet of sky
The masses of stars and feathering clouds
The cleansing of rain and ferocity of thunder
Thy heart is vast, like no other
Thine eyes drink me as thy presence
Thy voice whispers like sirens
Calling mine eye to a mass of mystery
And mine soul to tenderness
Curious that the more I know
The more I need
How does thou know me
How do I know thee
poem by Kira Bloom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet 43
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
poem by William Shakespeare from Sonnets (1609)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sonnet 43: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form, form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessèd made,
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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