Sweetheart
Sweetheart, that thou art fair I know,
More fair to me
Than flowers that make the loveliest show
To tempt the bee.
When other girls, whose faces are,
Beside thy face,
As rushlights to the evening star,
Deny thy grace,
I silent sit and let them speak,
As men of strength
Allow the impotent and weak
To rail at length.
If they should tell me Love is blind,
And so doth miss
The faults which they are quick to find,
I'd answer this:
Envy is blind; not Love, whose eyes
Are purged and clear
Through gazing on the perfect skies
Of thine, my dear.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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To His Mistress
Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why
Does that eclipsing hand of thine deny
The sunshine of the Sun's enlivening eye?
Without thy light what light remains in me?
Thou art my life; my way, my light's in thee;
I live, I move, and by thy beams I see.
Thou art my life-if thou but turn away
My life's a thousand deaths. Thou art my way-
Without.thee, Love, I travel not but stray.
My light thou art-without thy glorious sight
My eyes are darken'd with eternal night.
My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light.
Thou art my way; I wander if thou fly.
Thou art my light; if hid, how blind am I!
Thou art my life; if thou withdraw'st, I die.
My eyes are dark and blind, I cannot see:
To whom or whither should my darkness flee,
But to that light?-and who's that light but thee?
If I have lost my path, dear lover, say,
Shall I still wander in a doubtful way?
Love, shall a lamb of Israel's sheepfold stray?
My path is lost, my wandering steps do stray;
I cannot go, nor can I safely stay;
Whom should I seek but thee, my path, my way?
And yet thou turn'st thy face away and fly'st me!
And yet I sue for grace and thou deny'st me!
Speak, art thou angry, Love, or only try'st me?
Thou art the pilgrim's path, the blind man's eye,
The dead man's life. On thee my hopes rely:
If I but them remove, I surely die.
Dissolve thy sunbeams, close thy wings and stay!
See, see how I am blind, and dead, and stray!
-O thou art my life, my light, my way!
Then work thy will! If passion bid me flee,
My reason shall obey, my wings shall be
Stretch'd out no farther than from me to thee!
poem by Lord John Wilmot
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Blind Love
Words and music by tom waits
Now youre gone
And its hotels and whiskey and sad luck days
And I dont care if they miss me
I never remember their names
They say if you get far enough away
Youll be on your way back home
Well Im at the station
And I cant get on the train
Must be blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
Stone blind love
Well the streets turning blue
The dogs are barking and the night has come
And its tears that are falling
From these brown eyes now
And I wonder where you are
And I whisper your name
(I whisper your name)
And the only way to find you
Is if I close my eyes
And find you with my blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
Stone blind love
Oh its blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 148: O me! what eyes hath love put in my head
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight!
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love's eye is not so true as all men's "no."
How can it? O, how can love's eye be true,
That is so vexed with watching and with tears?
No marvel then though I mistake my view;
The sun it self sees not, 'till heaven clears.
O cunning love, with tears thou keep'st me blind,
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Love Is Blind
Love is blind- it has no barriers, it has no time.
It has no eyes with which to see
It has no voice to call on me.
It just has an inner strength, on which it depends
To say if the love is right or wrong
Which will make it weak or strong.
Love is blind it can not see
It can not say what the future hold for me.
I felt I was falling deeper into the depths
Of her eyes, like a whirlpool pulling me in
Deeper and deeper and no end in sight
No matter how I struggled I was losing this fight.
I decided to let go and face what was ahead
For in her love I was dead.
In stead she lifted me up high into space
Where I could see the love in her face.
Love has no crystal ball or a guiding star
It can not see if it is near or far.
Love doesn’t come when you call its name
It has no face, it has no shame.
It matters not if you’re young or old.
Love is strong, love is bold.
It will touch the coldest heart and make it melt
Bring out feelings you never felt.
Love knows no color or religious belief
It just makes your spirit find relief.
Love can control you, no matter what
You may think or say.
Love in your soul is here to stay.
Love is blind, but love is sweet
It is this worlds biggest treat.
poem by Louis Rams
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Psalm 19: Coeli Enarrant
The heavenly frame sets forth the fame
Of him that only thunders;
The firmament, so strangely bent,
Shows his handworking wonders.
Day unto day doth it display,
Their course doth it acknowledge,
And night to night succeeding right
In darkness teach clear knowledge.
There is no speech, no language which
Is so of skill bereaved,
But of the skies the teaching cries
They have heard and conceived.
There be no eyen but read the line
From so fair book proceeding,
Their words be set in letters great
For everybody's reading.
Is not he blind that doth not find
The tabernacle builded
There by His Grace for sun's fair face
In beams of beauty gilded?
Who forth doth come, like a bridegroom,
From out his veiling places,
As glad is he, as giants be
To run their mighty races.
His race is even from ends of heaven;
About that vault he goeth;
There be no realms hid from his beams;
His heat to all he throweth.
O law of His, how perfect 'tis
The very soul amending;
God's witness sure for aye doth dure
To simplest wisdom lending.
God's dooms be right, and cheer the sprite,
All His commandments being
So purely wise it gives the eyes
Both light and force of seeing.
Of Him the fear doth cleanness bear
And so endures forever,
His judgments be self verity,
They are unrighteous never.
Then what man would so soon seek gold
Or glittering golden money?
By them is past in sweetest taste,
Honey or comb of honey.
By them is made Thy servants' trade
Most circumspectly guarded,
And who doth frame to keep the same
Shall fully be rewarded.
Who is the man that ever can
His faults know and acknowledge?
O Lord, cleanse me from faults that be
Most secret from all knowledge.
Thy servant keep, lest in him creep
Presumtuous sins' offenses;
Let them not have me for their slave
Nor reign upon my senses.
So shall my sprite be still upright
In thought and conversation,
So shall I bide well purified
From much abomination.
So let words sprung from my weak tongue
And my heart's meditation,
My saving might, Lord, in Thy sight,
Receive good acceptation!
poem by Philip Sidney
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Mary
Sweet Mary the first time she ever was there
Came into the Ball room among the Fair
The young Men and Maidens around her throng
And these are the words upon every tongue
An Angel is here from the heavenly Climes
Or again does return the Golden times
Her eyes outshine every brilliant ray
She opens her lips tis the Month of May
Mary moves in soft beauty and conscious delight
To augment with sweet smiles all the joys of the Night
Nor once blushes to own to the rest of the Fair
That sweet Love and Beauty are worthy our care
In the Morning the Villagers rose with delight
And repeated with pleasure the joys of the night
And Mary arose among Friends to be free
But no Friend from henceforward thou Mary shalt see
Some said she was proud some calld her a whore
And some when she passed by shut to the door
A damp cold came oer her her blushes all fled
Her lillies and roses are blighted and shed
O why was I born with a different Face
Why was I not born like this Envious Racet
Why did Heaven adorn me with bountiful hand
And then set me down in an envious Land
To be weak as a Lamb and smooth as a Dove
And not to raise Envy is calld Christian Love
But if you raise Envy your Merits to blame
For planting such spite in the weak and the tame
I will humble my Beauty I will not dress fine
I will keep from the Ball and my Eyes shall not shine
And if any Girls Lover forsakes her for me
I'll refuse him my hand and from Envy be freet
She went out in Morning attird plain and neat
Proud Marys gone Mad said the Child in the Street
She went out in Morning in plain neat attire
And came home in Evening bespatterd with mire
She trembled and wept sitting on the Bed side
She forgot it was Night & she trembled and cried
She forgot it was Night she forgot it was Morn
Her soft Memory imprinted with Faces of Scorn
With Faces of Scorn and with Eyes of disdain
Like foul Fiends inhabiting Marys mild Brain
She remembers no Face like the Human Divine
All Faces have Envy sweet Mary but thine
And thine is a Face of sweet Love in Despair
And thine is a Face of mild sorrow and care
And thine is a Face of wild terror and fear
That shall never be quiet till laid on its bier
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Riddle Of The Sphinx
Thou gazing face above the shifting sands!
Oh, turn thy tearless eyes and answer me!
Will honour come to thee and to thy land.
That this should be?
Those swarthy adamantine breasts of stone
Are now matured beneath thine Egypt sun.
Wilt profit by this brood of iron bone
That this be done?
Oh answer me, thou silent gazing face,
All-gifted with the wisdom of the years,
These teeth of Jason, - will they bring thee grace,
Or bring thee tears?
poem by Leon Gellert
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Sonnet 46
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,
A closet never pierced with crystal eyes,
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
To 'cide this title is impannelled
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;
And by their verdict is determined
The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part:
As thus: mine eye's due is thine outward part,
And my heart's right, thine inward love of heart.
poem by William Shakespeare from Sonnets (1609)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sestina
I wandered o'er the vast green plains of youth,
And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height
Fame's silhouette stood sharp against the skies.
Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway
I caught the glimmer of a golden goal,
While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love.
Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed at Love,
With all the haughty insolence of youth,
As past her bower I strode to seek my goal.
'Now will I climb to glory's dizzy height, '
I said, ' for there above the common way
Doth pleasure dwell companioned by the skies.'
But when I reached that summit near the skies,
So far from man I seemed, so far from Love-
'Not here, ' I cried, 'doth Pleasure find her way, '
Seen from the distant borderland of youth.
Fame smiles upon us from her sun-kissed height,
But frowns in shadows when we reach the goal.
Then were mine eyes fixed on that glittering goal,
Dear to all sense-sunk souls beneath the skies.
Gold tempts the artist from the lofty height,
Gold lures the maiden from the arms of Love,
Gold buys the fresh ingenuous heart of youth,
'And gold, ' I said, 'will show me Pleasure's way.'
But ah! the soil and discord of that way,
Where savage hordes rushed headlong to the goal,
Dead to the best impulses of their youth,
Blind to the azure beauty of the skies;
Dulled to the voice of conscience and of love,
They wandered far from Truth's eternal height.
Then Truth spoke to me from that noble height,
Saying: 'Thou didst pass Pleasure on the way,
She with the yearning eyes so full of Love,
Whom thou disdained to seek for glory's goal.'
Two blending paths beneath God's arching skies
Lead straight to Pleasure. Ah, blind heart of youth,
Not up fame's height, not toward the base god's goal,
Doth Pleasure make her way, but 'neath calm skies
Where Duty walks with Love in endless youth.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Evening Star
Lo! in the paintedoriel of the West,
Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines,
Like a fair lady at her casement, shines
The evening star, the star of love and rest!
And then anon she doth herself divest
Of all her radiant garments, and reclines
Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines,
With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed.
O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus!
My morning and my evening star of love!
My best and gentlest lady! even thus,
As that fair planet in the sky above,
Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night,
And from thy darkened window fades the light.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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By The Seaside : The Evening Star
Lo! in the paintedoriel of the West,
Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines,
Like a fair lady at her casement, shines
The evening star, the star of love and rest!
And then anon she doth herself divest
Of all her radiant garments, and reclines
Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines,
With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed.
O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus!
My morning and my evening star of love!
My best and gentlest lady! even thus,
As that fair planet in the sky above,
Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night,
And from thy darkened window fades the light.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Live Is Blind
I tried to give you love
That was ever flowing
I tried to give a love
That could be so true
But you wanted less
Than I had to offer
What was I to do
I tried to bare a soul
That would swear devotion(?)
I tried to promise dreams
I would make come true
But you said that love was
A game for children
Here I stand, a fool
Love is blind
Blinded by love
You're all I can see in my eyes
My mind says, stop
But my heart says, go
And oh, how it hurts to find
It's true when they say that
Love is blind
Love is blind
I told myself if there
Was a chance to show you
Just how good a love affair could be
But love was something that
You had never given
I just couldn't see
I closed my eyes to all that
You never gave me
(???)My heart didn't wanna see
How you played around
And how well you showed me
How wounded love can be
Love is blind
Blinded by love
You're all I can see in my eyes
My mind says, stop
But my heart says, go
Oh, how it hurts to find
It's true when they say that
Love is blind
Love is blind
So blind
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad
I KNOW my love is true,
And oh the day is fair.
The sky is dear and blue,
The flowers are rich of hue,
The air I breathe is rare,
I have no grief or care;
For my own love is true,
And oh the day is fair.
My love is false I find,
And oh the day is dark.
Blows sadly down the wind,
While sorrow holds my mind;
I do not hear the lark,
For quenched is life's dear spark,—
My love is false I find,
And oh the day is dark!
For love doth make the day
Or dark or doubly bright;
Her beams along the way
Dispel the gloom and gray.
She lives and all is bright,
She dies and life is night.
For love doth make the day,
Or dark or doubly bright.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Evening Star, The
Lo! in the painted oriel of the West,
Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines,
Like a fair lady at her casement, shines
The evening star, the star of love and rest!
And then anon she doth herself divest
Of all her radiant garments, and reclines
Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines,
With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed.
O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus!
My morning and my evening star of love!
My best and gentlest lady! even thus,
As that fair planet in the sky above,
Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night,
And from thy darkened window fades the light.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Licia Sonnets 25
Seven are the lights that wander in the skies,
And at these seven, I wonder in my love.
So see the moon, how pale she doth arise,
Standing amazed, as though she durst not move;
So is my sweet much paler than the snow,
Constant her looks, these looks that cannot change.
Mercury the next, a god sweet-tongued we know,
But her sweet voice doth wonders speak more strange.
The rising Sun doth boast him of his pride,
And yet my love is far more fair than he.
The warlike Mars can wieldless weapons guide,
But yet that god is far more weak than she.
The lovely Venus seemeth to be fair,
But at her best my love is far more bright.
Saturn for age with groans doth dim the air,
Whereas my love with smiles doth give it light.
Gaze at her brows, where heaven ingrafted is;
Then sigh, and swear, there is no heaven but this
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Love Is Blind
I tried to give you love
That was ever flowing
I tried to give a love
That could be so true
But you wanted less
Than I had to offer
What was I to do
I tried to bare a soul
That would swear devotion(? )
I tried to promise dreams
I would make come true
But you said that love was
A game for children
Here I stand, a fool
Love is blind
Blinded by love
Youre all I can see in my eyes
My mind says, stop
But my heart says, go
And oh, how it hurts to find
Its true when they say that
Love is blind
Love is blind
I told myself if there
Was a chance to show you
Just how good a love affair could be
But love was something that
You had never given
I just couldnt see
I closed my eyes to all that
You never gave me
(? ? ? )my heart didnt wanna see
How you played around
And how well you showed me
How wounded love can be
Love is blind
Blinded by love
Youre all I can see in my eyes
My mind says, stop
But my heart says, go
Oh, how it hurts to find
Its true when they say that
Love is blind
Love is blind
So blind
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seeing Thou Art Fair
SEEING thou art fair, I bar not thy false playing,
But let not me poor soul know of thy straying.
Nor do I give thee counsel to live chaste,
But that thou would'st dissemble, when 'tis past.
She hath not trod awry, that doth deny it.
Such as confess have lost their good names by it.
What madness is't to tell night-pranks by day?
And hidden secrets openly to bewray?
The strumpet with the stranger will not do,
Before the room be clear, and door put-to,
Will you make shipwreck of your honest name,
And let the world be witness of the same?
Be more advised, walk as a puritan,
And I shall think you chaste, do what you can.
Slip still, only deny it when 'tis done,
And, before folk, immodest speeches shun.
The bed is for lascivious toyings meet,
There use all tricks, and tread shame under feet.
When you are up and dressed, be sage and grave,
And in the bed hide all the faults you have.
Be not ashamed to strip you, being there,
And mingle thighs, yours ever mine to bear.
There in your rosy lips my tongue entomb,
Practise a thousand sports when there you come.
Forbear no wanton words you there would speak,
And with your pastime let the bedstead creak
But with your robes put on an honest face,
And blush and seem as you were full of grace.
Deceive all; let me err; and think I'm right,
And like a wittol think thee void of slight.
Why see I lines so oft received and given?
This bed and that by tumbling made uneven?
Like one start up your hair tost and displaced,
And with a wanton's tooth your neck new-rased.
Grant this, that what you do I may not see;
If you weigh not ill speeches, yet weigh me.
My soul fleets when I think what you have done.
And through every vein doth cold blood run.
Then thee whom I must love, I hate in vain,
And would be dead, but dead with thee remain.
I'll not sift much, but hold thee soon excused,
Say but thou wert injuriously accused.
Though while the deed be doing you be took,
And I see when you ope the two-leaved book,
Swear I was blind; deny, if you be wise,
And I will trust your words more than mine eyes.
From him that yields, the palm is quickly got,
Teach but your tongue to say, 'I did it not,'
And being justified by two words think
The cause acquits you not, but I that wink.
Sonnet 46: I Curs'd Thee Oft
I curs'd thee oft, I pity now thy case,
Blind-hitting boy, since she that thee and me
Rules with a beck, so tyrannizeth thee,
That thou must want or food, or dwelling place,
For she protest to banish thee her face.
Her face? Oh Love, a rogue thou then shouldst be!
If Love learn not alone to love and see,
Without desire to feed of further grace.
Alas poor wag, that now a scholar art
To such a schoolmistress, whose lessons new
Thou needs must miss, and so thou needs must smart.
Yet dear, let me his pardon get of you,
So long (though he from book miche to desire)
Till without fuel you can make hot fire.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Love's Exchange
LOVE, any devil else but you
Would for a given soul give something too.
At court your fellows every day
Give th' art of rhyming, huntsmanship, or play,
For them which were their own before;
Only I have nothing, which gave more,
But am, alas ! by being lowly, lower.
I ask no dispensation now,
To falsify a tear, or sigh, or vow;
I do not sue from thee to draw
A non obstante on nature's law;
These are prerogatives, they inhere
In thee and thine; none should forswear
Except that he Love's minion were.
Give me thy weakness, make me blind,
Both ways, as thou and thine, in eyes and mind;
Love, let me never know that this
Is love, or, that love childish is;
Let me not know that others know
That she knows my paines, lest that so
A tender shame make me mine own new woe.
If thou give nothing, yet thou 'rt just,
Because I would not thy first motions trust;
Small towns which stand stiff, till great shot
Enforce them, by war's law condition not;
Such in Love's warfare is my case;
I may not article for grace,
Having put Love at last to show this face.
This face, by which he could command
And change th' idolatry of any land,
This face, which, wheresoe'er it comes,
Can call vow'd men from cloisters, dead from tombs,
And melt both poles at once, and store
Deserts with cities, and make more
Mines in the earth, than quarries were before.
For this Love is enraged with me,
Yet kills not; if I must example be
To future rebels, if th' unborn
Must learn by my being cut up and torn,
Kill, and dissect me, Love; for this
Torture against thine own end is;
Rack'd carcasses make ill anatomies.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Why dost thou Shade thy Lovely Face?
1 Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? Oh, why
2 Does that eclipsing hand so long deny
3 The sunshine of thy soul-enliv'ning eye?
4 Without that light, what light remains in me?
5 Thou art my life, my way, my light; in thee
6 I live, I move, and by thy beams I see.
7 Thou art mv life; if thou but turn away
8 My life's a thousand deaths: thou art my way;
9 Without thee, Lord, I travel not, but stray.
10 My light thou art; without thy glorious sight
11 Mine eyes are darken'd with perpetual night.
12 My God, thou art my way, my life, my light.
13 Thou art my way; I wander if thou fly:
14 Thou art my light; if hid, how blind am I!
15 Thou art my life; if thou withdraw, I die.
16 Mine eyes are blind and dark, I cannot see;
17 To whom or whither should my darkness flee,
18 But to the light? and who's that light but thee?
19 My path is lost, my wand'ring steps do stray;
20 I cannot safely go, nor safely stay;
21 Whom should I seek but thee, my path, my way?
22 Oh, I am dead: to whom shall I, poor I,
23 Repair? to whom shall my sad ashes fly,
24 But life? and where is life but in thine eye?
25 And yet thou turn'st away thy face, and fly'st me;
26 And yet I sue for grace, and thou deny'st me;
27 Speak, art thou angry, Lord, or only try'st me?
28 Unscreen those heavenly lamps, or tell me why
29 Thou shad'st thy face; perhaps thou think'st no eye
30 Can view those flames, and not drop down and die.
31 If that be all, shine forth, and draw thee nigher;
32 Let me behold and die, for my desire
33 Is ph{oe}nix-like to perish in that fire.
34 Death-conquer'd Laz'rus was redeem'd by thee;
35 If I am dead, Lord, set death's prisoner free;
36 Am I more spent, or stink I worse than he?
37 If my puff'd life be out, give leave to tine
38 My shameless snuff at that bright lamp of thine;
39 Oh, what's thy light the less for lighting mine?
40 If I have lost my path, great Shepherd, say,
41 Shall I still wander in a doubtful way?
42 Lord, shall a lamb of Israel's sheep-fold stray?
43 Thou art the pilgrim's path, the blind man's eye,
44 The dead man's life; on thee my hopes rely;
45 If thou remove, I err, I grope, I die.
46 Disclose thy sunbeams; close thy wings, and stay;
47 See, see how I am blind, and dead, and stray,
48 O thou, that art my light, my life, my way.
poem by Francis Quarles
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