To The Rose: Song
Go, happy Rose, and interwove
With other flowers, bind my Love.
Tell her, too, she must not be
Longer flowing, longer free,
That so oft has fetter'd me.
Say, if she's fretful, I have bands
Of pearl and gold, to bind her hands;
Tell her, if she struggle still,
I have myrtle rods at will,
For to tame, though not to kill.
Take thou my blessing thus, and go
And tell her this,--but do not so!--
Lest a handsome anger fly
Like a lightning from her eye,
And burn thee up, as well as I!
poem by Robert Herrick
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Come, Thou Fount Of Every Blessing
Come, thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me ever to adore thee,
May I still thine goodness prove
While the hope of endless glory
Fills my heart with joy and love
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to thee.
Never let me wander from thee
Never leave thee God I love
Here's my heart, take and seal it,
Seal it for thy courts above.
Never let me wander from thee
Never leave thee, God I love
Here's my heart, take and seal it,
Seal it for thy courts above.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom And Love
How delicious is the winning
Of a kiss at love's beginning,
When two mutual hearts are sighing
For the knot there's no untying!
Yet remember, 'Midst our wooing,
Love has bliss, but Love has ruing;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears for other charms may trickle.
Love he comes, and Love he tarries,
Just as fate or fancy carries;
Longest stays, when sorest chidden;
Laughs and flies, when press'd and bidden.
Bind the sea to slumber stilly,
Bind its odour to the lily,
Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver,
Then bind Love to last for ever.
Love's a fire that needs renewal
Of fresh beauty for its fuel:
Love's wing moults when caged and captured,
Only free, he soars enraptured.
Can you keep the bee from ranging
Or the ringdove's neck from changing?
No! nor fetter'd Love from dying
In the knot there's no untying.
poem by Thomas Campbell
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March
Shall Thor with his hammer
Beat on the mountain,
As on an anvil,
A shackle and fetter?
Shall the lame Vulcan
Shout as he swingeth
God-like his hammer,
And forge thee a fetter?
Shall Jove, the Thunderer,
Twine his swift lightnings
With his loud thunders,
And forge thee a shackle?
'No,' shouts the Titan,
The young lion-throated;
'Thor, Vulcan, nor Jove
Cannot shackle and bind me.'
Tell what will bind thee,
Thou young world-shaker,
Up vault our oceans,
Down fall our forests.
Ship-masts and pillars
Stagger and tremble,
Like reeds by the margins
Of swift running waters.
Men's hearts at thy roaring
Quiver like harebells
Smitten by hailstones,
Smitten and shaken.
'O sages and wise men!
O bird-hearted tremblers!
Come, I will show ye
A shackle to bind me.
I, the lion-throated,
The shaker of mountains!
I, the invincible,
Lasher of oceans!
'Past the horizon,
Its ring of pale azure
Past the horizon,
Where scurry the white clouds,
There are buds and small flowers--
Flowers like snow-flakes,
Blossoms like rain-drops,
So small and tremulous.
Therein a fetter
Shall shackle and bind me,
Shall weigh down my shouting
With their delicate perfume!'
But who this frail fetter
Shall forge on an anvil,
With hammer of feather
And anvil of velvet?
Past the horizon,
In the palm of a valley,
Her feet in the grasses,
There is a maiden.
She smiles on the flowers,
They widen and redden,
She weeps on the flowers,
They grow up and kiss her.
She breathes in their bosoms,
They breathe back in odours;
Inarticulate homage,
Dumb adoration.
She shall wreathe them in shackles,
Shall weave them in fetters;
In chains shall she braid them,
And me shall she fetter.
I, the invincible;
March, the earth-shaker;
March, the sea-lifter;
March, the sky-render;
March, the lion-throated.
April the weaver
Of delicate blossoms,
And moulder of red buds--
Shall, at the horizon,
Its ring of pale azure,
Its scurry of white clouds,
Meet in the sunlight.
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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To His Forsaken Mistress
I DO confess thou'rt smooth and fair,
And I might have gone near to love thee,
Had I not found the slightest prayer
That lips could move, had power to move thee;
But I can let thee now alone
As worthy to be loved by none.
I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
Thy favours are but like the wind
That kisseth everything it meets:
And since thou canst with more than one,
Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.
The morning rose that untouch'd stands
Arm'd with her briers, how sweet she smells!
But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
Her sweets no longer with her dwells:
But scent and beauty both are gone,
And leaves fall from her, one by one.
Such fate ere long will thee betide
When thou hast handled been awhile,
With sere flowers to be thrown aside;
And I shall sigh, while some will smile,
To see thy love to every one
Hath brought thee to be loved by none.
poem by Sir Robert Aytoun
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A Wayward Rose
Mischievous rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Can I not bind thee nor hold thee?
Can I not weave thee nor fold thee
In with thy sisters to staying?
Vain is my passion or praying,
Rose from the rose-tree swaying.
Wayward sweet rose from the rose-tree swinging,
Can I not pass thee, forget thee?
Can I not see to regret thee?
In—'mid thy kindred's close ringing,
Out—to my heart she comes winging,
Rose from the rose-tree swinging.
Cruel red rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Ever to worship thee, throne thee,
Never to lose thee or own thee,
Thy beauty to keep me from straying,
Thy thorns for my passionate praying,
Rose from the rose-tree swaying.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Sonnet to -----
Ah no! my love knows no vain jealousy:
The rose that blooms and lives but in the sun,
Asks not what other flowers he shines upon,
If he but shine on her. Enough for me,
Thus in thy light to dwell, and thus to share
The sunshine of thy smile with all things fair.
I know thou'rt vowed to Beauty, not to Love.
I would not stay thy footsteps from one shrine,
Nor would I bind thee by a sigh to mine.
For me -- I have no lingering wish to rove;
For though I worship all things fair, like thee,
Of outward grace, of soul-nobility;
Happier than thou, I find them all in one,
And I would worship at thy shrine alone!
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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No Longer Snow On Kilimanjaro
I long for thee but whence I have occasion to respire;
Thou art the solitary object, of which I shan't e'er tire;
Rumination of thee shall surely one day be done-
One day after we no longer bask under the warmth of the Sun;
As soon as all the stars can no longer shine,
This is when you shall find love more ardent than mine;
My desire to be ever-nearer to thee shall surely wane-
Just as soon as we dwell in a world without rain;
To be without thee shall no longer be my sorrow,
Upon the Winter's day there is no longer snow on Kilimanjaro!
The hands of time shall surely need cease in their entirety,
Before, upon mine ardor, I may draw even the slightest dubiety;
Upon mine heart, soul, and mine's fidelity, you may depend-
So it was then, so it is now, so it shall be-when time doth end!
-Maurice Harris,11 March 2011
poem by Maurice Harris
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Dead Memory
Your memory no longer lingers through my life.
You were there once and now your gone.
Your memory has died like a rose when it is cut from the rest of the world.
Your torns no longer cut my heart.
My voice no longer whispers you name,
I no longer look for you in other people in other faces.
I no longer dream of you or wish that I see you once again.
My heart no longer cries or bleeds for you, not no more.
You no longer haunt my dreams or my memories.
I finally found someone that keeps me warm at night,
I finally found someone who has helped me erase your memory.
I no longer fall and stumble but I now walk tall.
Your memory was a weight that I carried through out time
that now I am free.
I can say that I no longer love you, for you are a dead memory
poem by Elizabeth Gaytan
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXX
THE RELIGION OF LOVE
So thou but love me, dear, with thy whole heart
What care I for the rest, for good or ill?
What for the peace of soul good deeds impart,
What for the tears unholy dreams distil?
These cannot make my joy, nor shall they kill.
Thou only perfect peace and virtue art
And holiness for me and strength and will,
So thou but love me with a perfect heart.
I ask thee now no longer to be wise;
No longer to be good, but loving me.
I ask thee nothing now but only this.
Henceforth my Bible, dear, shall be thine eyes,
My beads thy lips, my prayers thy constancy,
My heaven thine arms, eternity thy kiss.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Holy Matrimony
The voice that breathed o'er Eden,
That earliest wedding day
The primal marriage blessing,
It hath not passed away.
Still in the pure espousal
Of Christian man and maid,
The holy Three are with us,
The threefold grace is said.
Be present, aweful Father,
To give away this bride,
As Eve thou gav'st to Adam
Out of his own pierced side:
Be present, Son of Mary,
To join their loving hands,
As thou didst bind two natures
In thine eternal bands!
Be present, holiest Spirit,
To bless them as they kneel,
As thou, for Christ the Bridegroom,
The heavenly Spouse dost seal!
O spread thy pure wing o'er them,
Let no ill power find place,
When onward to thine altar
Their hallowed path they trace,
To cast their crowns before thee
In perfect sacrifice,
Till to the home of gladness
With Christ's own Bride they rise. Amen
poem by John Keble
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Aedh gives his Beloved certain Rhymes
Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes
FASTEN your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Fine
A lovers quarrel
Death by a shotgun barrel
With a cleaning solution the instruments are made sterile.
A hairy situation.
Like a plastic surgeon.
Rewriting the expression.
In both the date and time.
Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.
Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.
Changing my identity
Becoming that man I never use to be
With all niceties, and pleasantries wrapped in a little bow tie.
I don't even know how I survived.
Some thought I would have committed suicide.
But my drive just wouldn't let me.
Well, Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.
Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.
A murders escape.
A mind debates.
With shouts of hate.
How can you? Just how can you?
Emotional distress.
In all this I digest the worthiness
Worthless I've been called.
Well, Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.
Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.
I can still hear you every night I dream.
No sound sleep, not for me.
The way you made it seem.
My fault, the living breathing scapegoat
Is it not real enough?
Well, Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.
Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in it desperate pleas.
Now I stand upon the darkness
Ready to leap in.
All for you my friend.
Even though my wounds have yet to mend.
It matters not in the end.
Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in it desperate pleas.
Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in it desperate pleas.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Flowing
Pain and Anger are the things
In which is flowing through my veins
Knowing that I am forever
Trapped in this endles web of game
Knowing that I'll never be the same
The lonliness you can not measure
For I can no longer bear
The pain I encounter as I stay here
Pain and Anger are the things
In which is flowing through my veins
But is that all that is there
I see a search for love which ends in Despair.
Let me know i am not alone
Let me know I have a place I can call home
Let me know that you are there
Please tell me I have nothing to Fear.
Pain and Anger, Flowing through my veins
Right down to the core
I dont know if I can take it anymore
Is there something else
Or is this the end.
Let me know I have a friend.
Am I loved or No.
Are you friend or Foe.
Do I have to go through this Alone.
I guess I do.
No one is here.
Because No one cares.
Pain and Anger are the things
In which is flowing through my veins
I dont know how long I can
Stay Sane
In this mindless torture
Pain and Anger
Anger and Pain
Tell me can you feel it
Flowing through your veins?
poem by Melissa Ferrer
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A World Without Water
Can you imagine a world without water?
It would be a world which is totally altered.
Rivers and streams would no longer flow.
The oceans' tides wouldn't ebb to and fro.
Without the cooling and refreshing rain,
Living things would struggle to remain.
With no fresh water, we'd have little to drink.
None of us would wash, so then we would stink.
Plants wouldn't grow: we would have no flowers.
There'd be no energy from hydro-electric power.
Radiators wouldn't work: there would be no heat.
We couldn't boil vegetables, eggs, or pasta to eat.
There would no longer be fish left in the sea:
Many aquatic creatures would just cease to be.
There would be no pools, in which we could swim.
Lakes and reservoirs would be empty to their brim.
There would be no travelling by ship or by boat:
There would be no water for either to float.
We wouldn't be able to wash the dog, or the car.
Without any water, we wouldn't get too far.
There would be no water to bind mixtures together.
We would soon get bored of constant hot weather.
We wouldn't be able to flush waste down our loo.
There are so many things which we couldn't do.
But in poorer countries, water is a precious blessing;
The urgent need for water is a matter that is pressing.
In the UK, we can access water each and every day,
But, what if, our water was suddenly taken away?
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Love is a Farce
Love is a farce
For if you love
Somebody
Would you not be
Happy if he's happy
Loving someone else?
Would you not be happy
If you see him seeking
Love and happiness…
Somewhere else?
No!
You'll feel sad.
You'll feel jealous.
You'll feel morose.
Your love is farcical.
For if you really loved him
You wouldn't bind him with
Oaths, promises and obligations.
You would let him
Freely flow…
If he realises that you love him
And he is able to feel the same
For you, he'll remain with you
And will never go.
But don't bind him with prayers and pleas
As if you want to live on his mercies....
For if love has to happen, it will happen.
No matter what, no matter how far you are,
No matter how close you live, yet so
Distant you are....
But if love doesn't have to happen,
Then no matter what you do, he'll
Never come back to you....
So set him free
And enjoy this freedom
Of unrequited loving without
Receiving any....
For if you truly love him,
Let love not be a farce,
Never a binding, nor an expectation,
That he'll love you as much as you do,
For his happiness may be within him,
With others, or with you, but wherever
He's happy, let him be....for if you truly
Love him, won't you be happy, just seeing
His happiness, wherever he is....with himself,
With her, with them, with him (? !) , or with you!
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Some Fear No Hell
The serious run deep into their minds
Some never come out
Have you seen the hunt of the Spartans?
Have you witnessed the demise of Nietzsche?
Audiences brave with gold
Time running like a disease
So tired of holding on to the duel nature
We struggle on giving our time away
Accomplishing nothing
Prosecuted by our conscience
Some have lost it
Some no longer love
Some no longer care
Let it burn
Let it slide
Some dance like freedom
Some fear no hell
I Do and heaven is hard to get too
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion
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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Worry
There was fire in her eyes
As she waited by the door.
She certainly had done this
Many times before.
She tapped her foot and counted
And watched the clock hands wind.
The longer that she did this
The longer she did find
That anger was invading
And making her uptight.
That is until she saw him again
Home within her sight.
Her anger now subsided.
He kissed her fears away.
Anger came from worry
That maybe on someday
The job he had that took him
To a dangerous place
Would finally make her anger
Stay upon her face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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