Related quotes: Tell me not (Sweet) I...

To Lucasta, Going To The Wars

Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee (Dear) so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more.

poem by Richard Lovelace
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Related quotes

To Lucasta. Going To the Warres.

I.
Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde,
That from the nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde
To warre and armes I flie.

II.
True: a new Mistresse now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith imbrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

III.
Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more.

poem by Richard Lovelace
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An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife Who died and were buried together

TO these whom death again did wed
This grave 's the second marriage-bed.
For though the hand of Fate could force
'Twixt soul and body a divorce,
It could not sever man and wife,
Because they both lived but one life.
Peace, good reader, do not weep;
Peace, the lovers are asleep.
They, sweet turtles, folded lie
In the last knot that love could tie.
Let them sleep, let them sleep on,
Till the stormy night be gone,
And the eternal morrow dawn;
Then the curtains will be drawn,
And they wake into a light
Whose day shall never die in night.

TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As thou too shalt adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.

poem by Richard Crashaw
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Lucasta, I 'm off to the Whores (Parody)

Nag me not (shrew) or begrudge my time
That from the Nunnery
Of thy Chaste breast and ice cold bed
To whores and bars I fly

True, the new waitress now I chase
And hope to “cop a feel”
And with lascivious eyes undress
She who, for cash, will yield.

Yet all my infidelities
Are easily ignored-
You go to bed at nine o’clock
And, what is worse, you snore.

poem by John F. McCullagh
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How Do I Love Thee

[Chorus:]
How Do I Love Thee
Let Me Count The Ways
How Much Do I Love You
Well, Multiply Your Love By Infiniti
Picture A Vision Of Beauty
As We Dance By The Light Of The Moon
Your Passion So Often Consumes Me
Like The Lick Of A Native Tongue Tune
Reality Is Ours To Create
Fantasy Is Ours To Mold
Dream My Love Dream
With My Body And My Soul
Question Out My Faith
I'm Pledged To Be Your Lover
And After I Started Loving You
I Knew I'd Never Love Another
I'm Like A Child Within Your Arms
Would You Come Inside And Play With Me
Spend The Day With Me
Have Your Way With Me.
[Chorus]
Remember This Always
My Sweet One
No Lie Is True
And Dude It's Not A Lie
When I Say That
I Would Die For You
You're So Deep Within Thee
That Sometimes Your Just A Touch Away
But I Can't Reach You
I Seek You
Come To Me
But Then You"re All Around Me
You Just Surround Me
And You Astound Me
And I Recieve You
'Fore I Complete You
It Pleases Me
To Have You Touch Me There
I Think You Know It Gets To Me
Stop
Don't Stop
Ecstacy
[Chorus]
So Sweet
I Adore You
Come To Me
That's Right
Come To Me
How Do I Love Thee
Let Me Count The Ways
How Do I Love Thee
Let Me Count The Ways
Reality Is Ours To Create
Fantasy Is Ours To Mold
Dream My Love Dream
With My Body And My Soul
Question Out My Faith
I'm Pledged To Be Your Lover
And After I Started Loving You
I Knew I'd Never Love Another
I'm Like A Child Within Your Arms
Would You Come Inside And Play With Me
Spend The Day With Me
Have Your Way With Me.
Please Don't Go
Happiness Is Nothing Without You
Stay.
My Sweet One
I Adore You
Hold Me
Come To Me
Love Me
Love Me

song performed by by Queen Latifah
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Lucasta on Choosing Peace

i am kind, tell me now my dear
i shall not go to war
i shall have a distaste for arms
i love your breasts
i love this peace of mind

Honestly, i do not have any mistress
not a foe anywhere
what for is the gun, the tanks and the nuclear warheads?

I will be consistent in my humble stand
and you shall adore
i love you so much
and i hate all these wars.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Son's Sorrow

FROM THE ICELANDIC.

The King has asked of his son so good,
“Why art thou hushed and heavy of mood?
O fair it is to ride abroad.
Thou playest not, and thou laughest not;
All thy good game is clean forgot.”

“Sit thou beside me, father dear,
And the tale of my sorrow shalt thou hear.

Thou sendedst me unto a far-off land,
And gavest me into a good Earl’s hand.

Now had this good Earl daughters seven,
The fairest of maidens under heaven.

One brought me my meat when I should dine,
One cut and sewed my raiment fine.

One washed and combed my yellow hair,
And one I fell to loving there.

Befell it on so fair a day,
We minded us to sport and play.

Down in a dale my horse bound I,
Bound on my saddle speedily.

Bright red she was as the flickering flame
When to my saddle-bow she came.

Beside my saddle-bow she stood,
‘To flee with thee to my heart were good.’

Kind was my horse and good to aid,
My love upon his back I laid.

We gat us from the garth away,
And none was ware of us that day.

But as we rode along the sand
Behold a barge lay by the land.

So in that boat did we depart,
And rowed away right glad at heart.

When we came to the dark wood and the shade
To raise the tent my true-love bade.

Three sons my true-love bore me there,
And syne she died who was so dear.

A grave I wrought her with my sword,
With my fair shield the mould I poured.

First in the mould I laid my love,
Then all my sons her breast above.

And I without must lie alone;
So from the place I gat me gone.”

No man now shall stand on his feet
To love that love, to woo that sweet:
O fair it is to ride abroad.

poem by William Morris
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All Hail My Dear Mistress I

My dear mistress
People comment on you
Even in my presence
Your love in me is hard to take away
People respect me
Because of you
Your succulent lips
Makes me go crazy
My dear mistress

Your love in me
Is like a precious seed planted
That is hard to uproot
My dear mistress

I am happy and sad
Because I fear for the future
That we missed out on each other
My dear mistress

Oh lord!
I wish you prepared her for me
To marry in future
I wish she mothered my future children
My dear mistress.

poem by Tolulope Modupe
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A Lament

CLOUDS is under clouds and rain
For there will not come again
Two, the beloved sire and son
Whom all gifts were rained upon.

Kindness is all done, alas,
Courtesy and grace must pass,
Beauty, wit and charm lie dead,
Love no more may wreathe the head.

Now the branch that waved so high
No wind tosses to the sky;
There's no flowering time to come,
No sweet leafage and no bloom.

Percy, golden-hearted boy,
In the heyday of his joy
Left his new-made bride and chose
The steep way that Honour goes.

Took for his the deathless song
Of the love that knows no wrong:
Could I love thee, dear, so true
Were not Honour more than you?

(Oh, forgive, dear Lovelace, laid
In this mean Procrustean bed!)
Dear, I love thee best of all
When I go, at England's call.

In our magnificent sky aglow
How shall we this Percy know
Where he shines among the suns
And the planets and the moons?

Percy died for England, why,
Here's a sign to know him by!
There's one dear and fixèd star,
There's a youngling never far.

Percy and his father keep
The old loved companionship,
And shine downward in one ray
Where at Clouds they wait for day.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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To Roses in the Bosom of Castara

YE blushing virgins happy are
In the chaste nunnery of her breasts--
For he'd profane so chaste a fair,
Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.

Transplanted thus how bright ye grow!
How rich a perfume do ye yield!
In some close garden cowslips so
Are sweeter than i' th' open field.

In those white cloisters live secure
From the rude blasts of wanton breath!--
Each hour more innocent and pure,
Till you shall wither into death.

Then that which living gave you room,
Your glorious sepulchre shall be.
There wants no marble for a tomb
Whose breast hath marble been to me.

poem by William Habington
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Trust Me

Trust in me, baby, give me time, gimme time, um gimme time.
I heard somebody say, oh, "the older the grape,
Sweeter the wine, sweeter the wine."
Oh, my love is like a seed, baby, just needs time to grow,
It's growing stronger day by day, yeah,
That's the price you've got to pay.
Trust in me, baby, give me time, gimme time, please, a little more time.
Takes a road runner just a little bit uh-longer, dear,
Oh, to make up my mind, i gotta make up my mind.
Oh, my love is like a seed, baby, just needs time to grow,
It's growing stronger day by day,
That's the price that we both got to pay.
I gotta know, know that i'm ready, oh ready to settle down,
'cause i think too much of your loving, baby,
Yeah, i don't wanna mess your life around!
So if you love me like you tell me that you're doing, dear,
You shouldn't mind paying the price, any price, any price.
Love is supposed to be that special kind of thing,
Make anybody want to sacrifice.
Oh, my love is like a seed, baby, just needs time to grow,
It's growing stronger day by day,
That's the price we both gotta pay.
Trust in me baby, trust in me baby,
Trust in my love, in my heart.
Keep the faith, baby, keep the faith in me, dear, in my arms, in my love.
Don't turn your face away from me, dear, oh you leave a lost girl,
Oh, don't turn your love away, no no no no no no no,
You gotta believe in me, baby, yeah, trust me dear, oh...

song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Books

Sadly as some old mediaeval knight
Gazed at the arms he could no longer wield,
The sword two-handed and the shining shield
Suspended in the hall, and full in sight,
While secret longings for the lost delight
Of tourney or adventure in the field
Came over him, and tears but half concealed
Trembled and fell upon his beard of white,
So I behold these books upon their shelf,
My ornaments and arms of other days;
Not wholly useless, though no longer used,
For they remind me of my other self,
Younger and stronger, and the pleasant ways
In which I walked, now clouded and confused.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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To D-

In thee I fondly hoped to clasp
A friend whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,
Detach’d thee from my breast for ever.

True, she has forced thee from my breast,
Yet in my heart thou keep’st thy seat;
There, there thine image still must rest,
Until that heart shall cease to beat.

And when the grave restores her dead,
When life again to dust is given,
On thy dear breast I’ll lay my head—-
Without thee where would be my heaven?

poem by Byron (1803)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To D

In thee I fondly hoped to clasp
A friend whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,
Detach'd thee from my breast for ever.

True, she has forced thee from my breast,
Yet in my heart thou keep'st thy seat;
There, there thine image still must rest,
Until that heart shall cease to beat.

And when the grave restored her dead,
When life again to dust is given,
On thy dear breast I'll lay my head--
Without thee where would be my heaven?

February 1803

poem by Byron
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A Footnote to a Famous Lyric

TRUE love’s own talisman, which here
Shakespeare and Sidney failed to teach,
A steel-and-velvet Cavalier
Gave to our Saxon speech:

Chief miracle of theme and touch
That upstart enviers adore:
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.

No critic born since Charles was king
But sighed in smiling, as he read:
“Here ’s theft of the supremest thing
A poet might have said!”

Young knight and wit and beau, who won,
Mid war’s adventure, ladies’ praise,
Was ’t well of you, ere you had done,
To blight our modern bays?

O yet to you, whose random hand
Struck from the dark whole gems like these,
Archaic beauty, never planned
Nor reared by wan degrees,

Which leaves an artist poor, and art
An earldom richer all her years;
To you, dead on your shield apart,
Be “Ave!” passed in tears.

How shall this singing era spurn
Her master, and in lauds be loath?
Your worth, your work, bid us discern
Light exquisite in both.

’T was virtue’s breath inflamed your lyre,
Heroic from the heart it ran;
Nor for the shedding of such fire
Lives since a manlier man.

And till your strophe sweet and bold
So lovely aye, so lonely long,
Love’s self outdo, dear Lovelace! hold
The pinnacles of song.

poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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The Sleep Of Spring

O for that sweet, untroubled rest
That poets oft have sung!--
The babe upon its mother's breast,
The bird upon its young,
The heart asleep without a pain--
When shall I know that sleep again?

When shall I be as I have been
Upon my mother's breast
Sweet Nature's garb of verdant green
To woo to perfect rest--
Love in the meadow, field, and glen,
And in my native wilds again?

The sheep within the fallow field,
The herd upon the green,
The larks that in the thistle shield,
And pipe from morn to e'en--
O for the pasture, fields, and fen!
When shall I see such rest again?

I love the weeds along the fen,
More sweet than garden flowers,
For freedom haunts the humble glen
That blest my happiest hours.
Here prison injures health and me:
I love sweet freedom and the free.

The crows upon the swelling hills,
The cows upon the lea,
Sheep feeding by the pasture rills,
Are ever dear to me,
Because sweet freedom is their mate,
While I am lone and desolate.

I loved the winds when I was young,
When life was dear to me;
I loved the song which Nature sung,
Endearing liberty;
I loved the wood, the vale, the stream,
For there my boyhood used to dream.

There even toil itself was play;
Twas pleasure een to weep;
Twas joy to think of dreams by day,
The beautiful of sleep.
When shall I see the wood and plain,
And dream those happy dreams again?

poem by John Clare
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Sweet William's Farewell to Black-ey'd Susan: A Ballad

1 All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
2 The streamers waving in the wind,
3 When black-ey'd Susan came aboard.
4 Oh! where shall I my true love find!
5 Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
6 If my sweet William sails among the crew.

7 William, who high upon the yard,
8 Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
9 Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
10 He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below:
11 The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
12 And, (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

13 So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air,
14 Shuts close his pinions to his breast,
15 (If, chance, his mate's shrill call he hear)
16 And drops at once into her nest.
17 The noblest captain in the British fleet,
18 Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.

19 'O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
20 My vows shall ever true remain;
21 Let me kiss off that falling tear,
22 We only part to meet again.
23 Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be
24 The faithful compass that still points to thee.

25 'Believe not what the landmen say,
26 Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind:
27 They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,
28 In ev'ry port a mistress find.
29 Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
30 For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.

31 'If to far India's coast we sail,
32 Thy eyes are seen in di'monds bright,
33 Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,
34 Thy skin is ivory, so white.
35 Thus ev'ry beauteous object that I view,
36 Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

37 'Though battle call me from thy arms
38 Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
39 Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms,
40 William shall to his dear return.
41 Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
42 Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye'.

43 The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
44 The sails their swelling bosom spread,
45 No longer must she stay aboard:
46 They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head.
47 Her less'ning boat, unwilling rows to land:
48 'Adieu', she cries! and wav'd her lily hand.

poem by John Gay
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Hymn (Sacred Feast)

HAIL, sacred Feast, to weary mortals given,
Pledge of God's love! O Christ, we here adore
Thee, the slain Lamb, and Thee, the Bread from heaven—
Our life and peace, our joy for evermore.
Feed us, dear Lord, Thine own great love supplying
5
Our lack of faith, our need of every grace;
Dwell in us richly, till, on Thee relying,
We reach our home and see Thee face to face.

poem by Frederick George Scott
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Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go.

William Shakespeare in Hamlet
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Child Asleep. (From The French)

Sweet babe! true portrait of thy father's face,
Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!
Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place
Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother's breast.

Upon that tender eye, my little friend,
Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me!
I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend;
'Tis sweet to watch for thee, alone for thee!

His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow;
His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm.
Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy glow,
Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm?

Awake, my boy! I tremble with affright!
Awake, and chase this fatal thought! Unclose
Thine eye but for one moment on the light!
Even at the price of thine, give me repose!

Sweet error! he but slept! -- I breathe again;
Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep beguile!
Oh, when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain,
Beside me watch to see thy waking smile?