Sonnet XXI: If Beauty Thus Be Clouded
If Beauty thus be clouded with a frown,
That pity shines no comfort to my bliss,
And vapors of disdain so overfrown,
That my life's light thus wholy darken'd is,
Why should I more molest the world with cries,
The air with sighs, the earth below with tears?
Since I live hateful to those ruthless eyes,
Vexing with untun'd moan her dainty ears;
If I have lov'd her dearer than my breath,
My breath that calls the heav'ns to witness it,
And still must hold her dear till after death;
And if that all this cannot move a whit,
Yet let her say that she hath done me wrong,
To use me thus and know I lov'd so long.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Related quotes
Dont Hold Your Breath
One day Ill get home before the sun hits the blinds
And give you - Ill give you something to remember me by
Thats the way I am
Its what I got in mind but I dont know if I can
You gotta shoot your gun - dont expect me to dance
Hold me up to the spotlight but
Dont, dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
These empty pockets are my deepest friends
Full of nothing but good intentions
Thats the way it is
It may not be much but I can blow you a kiss
Ive been wrong - Ive been wrong once before
Ill be all right tomorrow but
Dont, dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
I may be lazy or a living wreck
I wont be swayed by your expectations
Thats the way it is
It may not be much but you know what to kiss
Ive been wrong - Ive been wrong once before
Ill be all right tomorrow but
Dont, dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
Dont hold your breath
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ye that do live in pleasures
Ye that do live in pleasures plenty,
and dwell in Music's sweetest Airs,
whose eyes are quick, whose ears are dainty,
not clogg'd with earth or worldly cares,
come sing this song, made in Amphion's praise,
who now is dead, yet you his fame can raise.
Call him again, let him not die,
but live in Music's sweetest breath;
place him in fairest memory,
and let him triumph over death.
O sweetly sung, his living wish attend ye.
These were his words, 'The mirth of heav'n God send ye.'
poem by John Wilbye
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Sonnet 100: Oh Tears, No Tears
Oh tears, no tears, but rain from Beauty's skies,
Making those lilies and those roses grow,
Which aye most fair, now more than most fair show,
While graceful Pity Beauty beautifies.
Oh honeyed sighs, which from that breast do rise,
Whose pants do make unspilling cream to flow,
Wing'd with whose breath, so pleasing zephyrs blow
As can refresh the hell where my soul fries.
Oh plaints conserv'd in such a sugar'd phrase
That Eloquence itself envies your praise
While sobb'd-out words a perfect music give.
Such tears, sighs, plaints, no sorrow is but joy:
Or if such heav'nly signs must prove annoy,
All mirth farewell, let me in sorrow live.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Hymn 16 Part 2
The enjoyment of Christ; or, Delight in ordinances.
Lord, what a heav'n of saving grace
Shines through the beauties of thy face,
And lights our passions to a flame!
Lord, how we love thy charming name!
When I can say, "My God is mine,"
When I can feel thy glories shine,
I tread the world beneath my feet,
And all that earth calls good or great.
While such a scene of sacred joys
Our raptured eyes and souls employs,
Here we could sit, and gaze away
A long, an everlasting day.
Well, we shall quickly pass the night
To the fair coasts of perfect light;
Then shall our joyful senses rove
O'er the dear object of our love.
[There shall we drink full draughts of bliss,
And pluck new life from heav'nly trees:
Yet now and then, dear Lord, bestow
A drop of heav'n on worms below.
Send comforts down from thy right hand,
While we pass through this barren land,
And in thy temple let us see
A glimpse of love, a glimpse of thee.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Mortification
How soon doth man decay!
When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets
To swaddle infants, whose young breath
Scarce knows the way;
Those clouts are little winding-sheets,
Which do consign and send them unto Death.
When boyes go first to bed,
They step into their voluntarie graves;
Sleep binds them fast; onely their breath
Makes them not dead:
Successive nights, like rolling waves,
Convey them quickly who are bound for Death.
When Youth is frank and free,
And calls for musick, while his veins do swell,
All day exchanging mirth and breath
In companie,
That musick summons to the knell
Which shall befriend him at the house of Death.
When man grows staid and wise,
Getting a house and home, where he may move
Within the circle of his breath,
Schooling his eyes,
That dumbe inclosure maketh love
Unto the coffin, that attends his death.
When Age grows low and weak,
Marking his grave, and thawing ev'ry year,
Till all do melt and drown his breath
When he would speak,
A chair or litter shows the biere
Which shall convey him to the house of Death.
Man, ere he is aware,
Hath put together a solemnitie,
And drest his hearse, while he has breath
As yet to spare;
Yet, Lord, instruct us so to die,
That all these dyings may be LIFE in DEATH.
poem by George Herbert
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You've Blinded Yourself
Ironic isn't it? We die with no breath, yet with every breath taken,
death creeps ever so slowly upon us, clandestinely killing us, unbeknownst to us.
Ironic isn't it? We would die for what is right, yet we die when we do what is wrong. We live in a world that abhors the right, yet with what is wrong, the Son of Sin is born.
Funny isn't it? They say Light and Darkness cannot exist without the other, but Darkness dies with Light. Light needs not Darkness to live.
Funny isn't it? You try to to kill me now, and laugh when I stumble.
I wonder if you'll be laughing when your swimming in the Lake of Fire and Sulphur. In fact, look into my eyes, if you dare, and see ME laugh as I watch you die.
Such irony in this life you've created, killing us off one by one. In reality it is Death wearing Life's cloak. 'Tis amusing too, you still think your going to win. Pathetic actually. Oh well, too bad.
poem by Soren Valentine
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Scared to Death
I feel my heart beat as I lie there and breath every breath in.I feel as if im scared to death and nothing there to support me as i fall.I dream dreams that could not have an explination to them.I wake up breathing as hard as before as my feet touch the floor, I am scared to death.I love my life but there comes a time when you just have to admit everything that is wrong.As I breath so calmly and smooth just then i find out the truth.Im scared to death.I walk around with a smile and realize this life has so many 'un-discovered' facts and as we learn the facts i see that the worlds going to waist.Im scared to death.I look around wondering if anyone else knows or feels my pain, only because im scared to death.I wish i could tell someone I wish they would know, so i dont feel as if im in the world alone.Im scared to death.I wonder how i live this life with all the secrets i hold my behind my breath just to realize im scared to death!
poem by Melissa Ramey
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A Secret
I did something wrong
Those who know, know
Those who don't, don't
I've lived with the guilt
From that day to this day
We take a stroll each day
And make a roll in a hay
I've done my time
I guess...its more than taking your dime
Or you holding your wound in violet iodine
Hoping I'll tell you in this line
What it is indeed I've done
Don't hold your breath
Till my dust returns to earth
And I stand at heaven's gate
Waiting for my reward on a revenge plate
For all I've done wrong on this wait
Will God himself say
Turn and go away
Or come and sit and stay
Don't hold your breath my friend I say
For you won't be there that day
As you weren't there the day
I did something wrong
And refused to forgive myself all my life long.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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The shining. For Tara.
It shines.
It shines from the new-born baby;
shines in the magic of birth.
It shines in first love;
in lasting love.
It shines in laughter,
in tears of sadness,
in tears of joy.
It shines in wisdom,
shines in goodness,
shines as beauty.
It shines in the held breath
of the peace of dawn about to break;
it shines in the stillness
of the hour of sunset.
It shines as life.
There is no limit to its shining
except the denying of it
and even then,
it shines
Since you know it so well,
does it need a name?
A name perhaps, to praise?
Nameless, known to all,
beyond all praise,
it shines.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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On The Run
I'm looking for a way to calm these voices in my head
With all this mad confusion
I don't wanna leave this bed
I'm on the run
I'm on the run again
And I don't know which way is left
And there's no point in not being right
So I'll hold my breath till the morning
Till I see the light
I'm on the run
I'm on the run again
From me
I'm drowning in these feelings
And it's scaring me to death
Staring at the ceiling
So many things I could have said
And I don't know which way is left
And there's no point in not being right
So I'll hold my breath till the morning
Till I see the light
So many time
So many signs
You're out there waiting
I should have known
You're out there waiting
And I don't know which way is left
And there's no point in not being right
So I'll hold my breath till the morning
Till I see the light
I'm on the run
I'm on the run again
From me
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet LV: My Fair, If Thou Wilt
My Fair, if thou wilt register my love,
A world of volumes shall thereof arise;
Preserve my tears, and thou thyself shalt prove
A second flood, down-raining from mine eyes.
Note by my sighs, and thine eyes shall behold
The sunbeams smother'd with immortal smoke;
And if by thee my prayers may be enroll'd,
They Heav'n and Earth to pity shall provoke.
Look thou into my breast, and thou shalt see
Chaste holy vows for my soul's sacrifice,
That soul, sweet Maid, which so hath honor'd thee,
Erecting trophies to thy sacred eyes,
Those eyes to my heart shining ever bright,
When darkness hath obscur'd each other light.
poem by Michael Drayton
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Dance With The Devil
Cunning liar, eternal fire
Demon clever, promise 4ever
The curious try and always die
Live in fear, the devil is near
Can U feel his breath? Pray 4 death
The curious try and always die
"U men point those search lights up on the tower right now - move, move!"
Have no Savior, have no faith
Never look 4 Heaven's gate
Devil's children, no love inside
There is a soul, but it has died
Devil's children, no love inside
There is a soul, but it has died
And it cries, and it cries
CHORUS:
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight
Put your arms around him and hold him tight
Give up 2 the feeling and don't try 2 fight
He wants your soul and he wants it 2night
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight
Put your arms around him and hold him tight
Close your eyes 2 love and die
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight {sampled till end}
"U know, without U I just wouldn't wanna go on"
CHORUS {x2}
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight
Put your arms around him and hold him tight
"It's as though we were made 4 each other
Beauty and the Beast
Of course if anyone else calls U Beast
I'll rip their lungs out"
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight
Put your arms around him and hold him tight
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im Yours
(words & music by robertson - blair)
My love I offer you now
My heart and all it can give
For just as long as I live Im yours
No arms but yours dear will do
My lips will always be true
My eyes can only see you, Im yours
And as the years roll along
Your joy and tears Ill gladly share
And when things go wrong dear
Just hold out your hand and Ill be there
With every beat of my heart
With every breath that I take
Now and forever, sweetheart, Im yours
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XXVII: My Dear Belovèd
My dear Belovèd, who hast lifted me
From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,
And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown
A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully
Shines out again, as all the angels see,
Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own,
Who camest to me when the world was gone,
And I who looked for only God, found thee!
I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad.
As one who stands in dewless asphodel
Looks backward on the tedious time he had
In the upper life,--so I, with bosom-swell,
Make witness, here, between the good and bad,
That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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When the Rose is Faded
When the rose is faded,
Memory may still dwell on
Her beauty shadowed,
And the sweet smell gone.
That vanishing loveliness,
That burdening breath,
No bond of life hath then,
Nor grief of death.
'Tis the immortal thought
Whose passion still
Makes the changing
The unchangeable.
Oh, thus thy beauty,
Loveliest on earth to me,
Dark with no sorrow, shines
And burns, with thee.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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The Dying Christian to His Soul
Vital spark of heav’nly flame!
Quit, O quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying,
O the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister Spirit, come away!
What is this absorbs me quite?
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring!
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?
poem by Alexander Pope
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Sonnet XXX: Still In the Trace
Still in the trace of my tormented thought,
My ceaseless cares must march on to my death;
Thy least regard to dearly have i bought,
Who to my comfort never deign'st a breath.
Why should'st thou stop thine ears now to my cries,
Whose eyes were open ready to oppress me?
Why shut'st thou not the cause whence all did rise,
Or hear me now, and seek how to redress?
Injurious Delia, yet I'll love thee still,
Whilst that I breathe in sorrow of my smart;
I'll tell the world that I deserv'd but ill,
And blame myself for to excuse thy heart.
Then judge who sins the greater of us twain:
I in my love, or thou in thy disdain.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Her Last Breath
You had six months to live
Not three weeks
You lay here motionless
Thinking of what to say
I stand beside you
Day and night
Wishing it could go away
She placed her hand in mine
And said her life was good
She had lived long and well
Her hand shakes as death nears
I hold her hand tight
As tears run down my face
As she took what was her one last breath
I feel my heart break
She turned and said she loved me
As her eyes closed
And her body was left lifeless
With me by her side
And her tears in my hand
Today with me she took her last breath
When it was not yet her time to go
poem by Kerrie Maurer
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The Complaint of Lisa
There is no woman living who draws breath
So sad as I, though all things sadden her.
There is not one upon life's weariest way
Who is weary as I am weary of all but death.
Toward whom I look as looks the sunflower
All day with all his whole soul toward the sun;
While in the sun's sight I make moan all day,
And all night on my sleepless maiden bed.
Weep and call out on death, O Love, and thee,
That thou or he would take me to the dead.
And know not what thing evil I have done
That life should lay such heavy hand on me.
Alas! Love, what is this thou wouldst with me?
What honor shalt thou have to quench my breath,
Or what shall my heart broken profit thee?
O Love, O great god Love, what have I done,
That thou shouldst hunger so after my death?
My heart is harmless as my life's first day:
Seek out some false fair woman, and plague her
Till her tears even as my tears fill her bed:
I am the least flower in thy flowery way,
But till my time be come that I be dead,
Let me live out my flower-time in the sun,
Though my leaves shut before the sunflower.
O Love, Love, Love, the kingly sunflower!
Shall he the sun hath looked on look on me,
That live down here in shade, out of the sun,
Here living in the sorrow and shadow of death?
Shall he that feeds his heart full of the day
Care to give mine eyes light, or my lips breath?
Because she loves him, shall my lord love her
Who is as a worm in my lord's kingly way?
I shall not see him or know him alive or dead;
But thou, I know thee, O Love, and pray to thee
That in brief while my brief life-days be done,
And the worm quickly make my marriage-bed.
For underground there is no sleepless bed.
But here since I beheld my sunflower
These eyes have slept not, seeing all night and day
His sunlike eyes, and face fronting the sun.
Wherefore, if anywhere be any death,
I fain would find and fold him fast to me,
That I may sleep with the world's eldest dead,
With her that died seven centuries since, and her
That went last night down the night-wandering way.
For this is sleep indeed, when labor is done,
Without love, without dreams, and without breath,
And without thought, O name unnamed! of thee.
Ah! but, forgetting all things, shall I thee?
Wilt thou not be as now about my bed
There underground as here before the sun?
Shall not thy vision vex me alive and dead,
Thy moving vision without form or breath?
I read long since the bitter tale of her
Who read the tale of Launcelot on a day,
And died, and had no quiet after death,
But was moved ever along a weary way,
Lost with her love in the underworld; ah me,
O my king, O my lordly sunflower,
Would God to me, too, such a thing were done!
But if such sweet and bitter things be done,
Then, flying from life, I shall not fly from thee.
For in that living world without a sun
Thy vision will lay hold upon me dead,
And meet and mock me, and mar my peace in death.
Yet if being wroth, God had such pity on her,
Who was a sinner and foolish in her day,
That even in hell they twain should breathe one breath,
Why should he not in some wise pity me?
So if I sleep not in my soft strait bed,
I may look up and see my sunflower
As he the sun, in some divine strange way.
O poor my heart, well knowest thou in what way
This sore sweet evil unto us was done.
For on a holy and a heavy day
I was arisen out of my still small bed
To see the knights tilt, and one said to me
"The king;" and seeing him, somewhat stopped my breath;
And if the girl spake more, I heard her not,
For only I saw what I shall see when dead,
A kingly flower of knights, a sunflower,
That shone against the sunlight like the sun,
And like a fire, O heart, consuming thee,
The fire of love that lights the pyre of death.
Howbeit I shall not die an evil death
Who have loved in such a sad and sinless way,
That this my love, lord, was no shame to thee.
So when mine eyes are shut against the sun,
O my soul's sun, O the world's sunflower,
Thou nor no man will quite despise me dead.
And dying I pray with all my low last breath
That thy whole life may be as was that day,
That feast-day that made trothplight death and me,
Giving the world light of thy great deeds done;
And that fair face brightening thy bridal bed,
That God be good as God hath been to her.
That all things goodly and glad remain with her,
All things that make glad life and goodly death;
That as a bee sucks from a sunflower
Honey, when summer draws delighted breath,
Her soul may drink of thy soul in like way,
And love make life a fruitful marriage-bed
Where day may bring forth fruits of joy to day
And night to night till days and nights be dead.
And as she gives light of her love to thee,
Give thou to her the old glory of days long done;
And either give some heat of light to me,
To warm me where I sleep without the sun.
O sunflower make drunken with the sun,
O knight whose lady's heart draws thine to her,
Great king, glad lover, I have a word to thee.
There is a weed lives out of the sun's way,
Hid from the heat deep in the meadow's bed,
That swoons and whitens at the wind's least breath,
A flower star-shaped, that all a summer day
Will gaze her soul out on the sunflower
For very love till twilight finds her dead.
But the great sunflower heeds not her poor death,
Knows not when all her loving life is done;
And so much knows my lord the king of me.
Ay, all day long he has no eye for me;
With golden eye following the golden sun
From rose-colored to purple-pillowed bed,
From birthplace to the flame-lit place of death,
From eastern end to western of his way,
So mine eye follows thee, my sunflower,
So the white star-flower turns and yearns to thee,
The sick weak weed, not well alive or dead,
Trod under foot if any pass by her,
Pale, without color of summer or summer breath
In the shrunk shuddering petals, that have done
No work but love, and die before the day.
But thou, to-day, to-morrow, and every day,
Be glad and great, O love whose love slays me.
Thy fervent flower made fruitful from the sun
Shall drop its golden seed in the world's way,
That all men thereof nourished shall praise thee
For grain and flower and fruit of works well done;
Till thy shed seed, O shining sunflower,
Bring forth such growth of the world's garden-bed
As like the sun shall outlive age and death.
And yet I would thine heart had heed of her
Who loves thee alive; but not till she be dead.
Come, Love, then, quickly, and take her utmost breath.
Song, speak for me who am dumb as are the dead;
From my sad bed of tears I send forth thee,
To fly all day from sun's birth to sun's death
Down the sun's way after the flying sun,
For love of her that gave thee wings and breath
Ere day be done, to seek the sunflower.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The dying sycamores
A beauty like young womanhood's
Upon the green earth lies,
And June's sweet smile hath waked again
All summer's harmonies.
The insects hum their dreamy song,
The trees their honors wear,
And languid with its perfume spoils
Sighs the voluptuous air.
A gorgeous wealth of leaf and bloom
Enchants the dazzled sight;
And over earth and sky there smiles
A Presence of delight.
From yon sad dying Sycamores,
Alone a shadow falls, --
As from the ghastly form of Death,
In Egypt's banquet-halls.
Against the soft blue sky they stand,
Their naked limbs outspread,
And to the throbbing life around,
They murmur of the dead.
Spring, with her soft and odorous breath,
Hath sighed o'er them in vain,
Nor sun, nor dew, nor summer shower,
Awakes their bloom again.
Oh stately monarchs of the wood,
What blight hath o'er ye passed?
What kanker wastes your noble hearts?
What spell is on ye cast?
I watch ye where a thousand forms
With life and beauty glow,
Till half I deem that on ye lies
Some weight of human woe.
Sad emblems are ye of those hearts
In this fair world of ours,
Who live unloving and unloved,
Oh dying Sycamores.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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