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Astrophel and Stella: XXXI

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What, may it be that even in heav'nly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries!
Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,
I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, ev'n of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be lov'd, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet XXXI: With How Sad Steps, O Moon

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What, may it be that even in heav'nly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries!
Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,
I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, ev'n of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be lov'd, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

poem by Philip Sidney
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This Lady's Cruelty

WITH how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
   Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
   Do they call 'virtue' there--ungratefulness?

poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Astrophel And Stella-Sonnet XXXI

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace,
To me that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

poem by Philip Sidney
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To The Sad Moon

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! May it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call 'virtue' there— ungratefulness?

poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet III: With how sad steps

With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whoom that love doth possess?
Do they call 'virtue' there - ungratefulness?

poem by Philip Sidney
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O love thou create

O love thou create and thou destroy
The innocent girl, the innocent boy
Tis in love that is, that lover's dwell
In foolish love fallen in foolish spell
One in love makes two hearts grow
None in love, and love stills show
On the melancholic face of beauty
In between the lines of poetry
Painted on the grace of Mary
Soaring on the wing of love's ferry
It's love's spell our life doth make
And life what love doth take
When thou say thou love me not
Thou love me not, but still love I got
So live I will.

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Love Me Not 06

Love me not as thou would love the moon and stars
Love me not as thou would love an immortal godess

Love me as thou would love a mystery, a shadow
Love me as thou would love a secret, a rose

Love me not to die for me
Love me not as thine own

Love me as thou loves life, as the beautiful unknown
Love me as I am with out question, with out sorrow

Love me not as thou would love the moon and stars
Love me not as an immortal goddess

Love me as thou would love a secret, a shadow
Love me more as each layer, each petal unfolds

poem by Kira Bloom
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Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more.
Then if for my love, thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thy self deceivest
By wilful taste of what thy self refusest.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 52: A Strife Is Grown

A strife is grown between Virtue and Love,
While each pretends that Stella must be his:
Her eyes, her lips, her all, saith Love, do this
Since they do wear his badge, most firmly prove.

But Virtue thus that title doth disprove:
That Stella (oh dear name) that Stella is
That virtuous soul, sure heir of heav'nly bliss,
Not this fair outside, which our hearts doth move;

And therefore, though her beauty and her grace
Be Love's indeed, in Stella's self he may
By no pretense claim any manner place.

Well, Love, since this demur our suit will stay,
Let Virtue have that Stella's self; yet thus
That Virtue but that body grant to us.

poem by Philip Sidney
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Intrigue

THOU art my love
And thou art the peace of sundown
When the blue shadows soothe
And the grasses and the leaves sleep
To the song of the little brooks
Woe is me.

Thou art my love,
And thou art a storm
That breaks black in the sky
And, sweeping headlong,
Drenches and cowers each tree
And at the panting end
There is no sound
Save the melancholy cry of a single owl
Woe is me!

Thou art my love
And thou art a tinsel thing
And I in my play
Broke thee easily
And from the little fragments
Arose my long sorrow
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And thou art a weary violet
Drooping from sun-caresses.
Answering mine carelessly
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And thou art the ashes of other men's love
And I bury my face in these ashes
And I love them
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And thou art the beard
On another man's face
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And thou art a temple
And in this temple is an altar
And on this altar is my heart
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And thou art a wretch.
Let these sacred love-lies choke thee
For I am come to where I know your lies as truth
And your truth as lies
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And thou art a priestess
And in thy hand is a bloody dagger
And my doom comes to me surely
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And thou art a skull with ruby eyes
And I love thee
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And I doubt thee
And if peace came with my murder
Then would I murder
Woe is me.

Thou art my love
And thou art death
Aye, thou art death
Black and yet black
But I love thee
I love thee
Woe, welcome woe, to me.

poem by Stephen Crane
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Harvest Moon (live)

Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say
Just like the children sleeping, we could dance the sun away
But there's a full moon risin', let's go dancin' in the night
We know where the music's playin', let's go out and feel the night
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon
When we were strangers, I watched you from afar
Then we were lovers, I love you with all my heart
But now it's getting late, and the moon is climbing high
I want to celabrate, see it shining in your eyes
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon

song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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A Selfish Lover

My love doth not love but love it feels
Inside my heart which is deaf and mute.
I cannot love thee but my soul peals
The song of love into sweet fruit.
Love is the virtue, I selfishly hoard
A vice to entrap mine only good.
In the miser in me, my fruit I store
And eat for myself as love should.
But my heart doth not hear
And my heart doth not speak
The rich love my soul endear
Or the love thine heart seek?
For I do love one, but only me
If thou call that love or being miserly?

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Lovest Thou Me?

'Tis a point I long to know,
Oft it causes anxious thought;
Do I love the Lord, or no?
Am I his, or am I not?

If I love, why am I thus?
Why this dull and lifeless frame?
Hardly, sure, can they be worse,
Who have never heard his name!

Could my heart so hard remain,
Prayer a task and burden prove;
Every trifle give me pain,
If I knew a Saviour's love?

When I turn my eyes within,
All is dark, and vain, and wild;
Filled with unbelief and sin,
Can I deem myself a child?

If I pray, or hear, or read,
Sin is mixed with all I do;
You that love the Lord indeed,
Tell me, Is it thus with you?

Yet I mourn my stubborn will,
Find my sin, a grief, and thrall;
Should I grieve for what I feel,
If I did not love at all?

Could I joy his saints to meet,
Choose the ways I once abhorred,
Find, at times, the promise sweet,
If I did not love the Lord?

Lord decide the doubtful case!
Thou who art thy people's sun;
Shine upon thy work of grace,
If it be indeed begun.

Let me love thee more and more,
If I love at all, I pray;
If I have not loved before,
Help me to begin today.

poem by John Newton
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LOVE Without Fancy Words and Shiny Stars

LOVE... You can possess but you can’t hold it
LOVE... You can feel but you can’t see it,
LOVE...You can give but you can’t buy it
LOVE... You can start when you advertise,
LOVE... with your smiles and your eyes
LOVE Mam’n’Dad an’ sister an’ brother,
LOVE your friends and one another
Love your lover in that yummy order, ,
LOVE your neighbour over the border
LOVE...at the top Nan’n’Pop,
LOVE all the dickie birds in the tree top
LOVE your doggie an’pussycat,
LOVE all animals don’t forget that
Love a little for yourself, an’ those that hate,
Love the world an’ you’ll change its fate
Love will then return thru your own gate.

poem by Ken e Hall
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When You Ignore Someone You Love

you keep a busy day
a long list of things to do, some travels to make,
some friends to entertain, barely there is no time for self,
caring for people that you barely know,

just to forget,
you ignore the feeling you have for this someone
to discard him like a letter you do not want to read anymore,

but you cannot really, this someone that you love,
you cannot just ignore, wherever you go, whatever you do,
she shines in your heart like the sun

where you hide in darkness so nobody sees you bleeding
someone that you love is still the moon
and the more you hide
someone that you love becomes so many
like the stars in the skies

do not ignore someone that you love
show your face show your love
surrender and suffer let this someone that you love
now take control
feel someone's hand
you shall be the water to drink
the air to breath
the soul to someone's body

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thou knoweth love not like me

Thou knowth love not like me
Thou whom are beauty bound to grace
And me whom is hideous and ugly
Marred to the soul, marred on my face.
I know love's temptation but loved am not
As thou art loved and love no one
I love love but never felt it, only besought
The love thou have, beloved by all like the sun.
I lament in ugliness and with ugliness alone
As beauteous thee, with love marry
I decay like death, and wither to the bone
Married thou art mythicized into a ferry
Beautiful, angelic, thou know love's power
Ugly and hideous I know love's final hour……

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Her...

I can never get my mind off her,
I wonder if she'd mind if i'd,
make her my own,
and never let her go,
hug her tight,
treat her right,
act all polite,
take her on a date,
make sure i'm never late,
kiss her on her lips,
talk about our kids,
Make her feel like princess,
living in a castle,
hope that is not too much hassle,
But i am so blessed,
hope i can be the best,
hold you tight,
have your BR3A$t,
on my chest,
pass the test,
NOW YOUR MINE!

sorry for word spamming: (

love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

poem by Jordan Moore
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Sister to Sister

'When I received that love which is a face,
When I perceived that face which is a love,
Two voices, like those two old nations, strove
Within my heart, and the first-born gave place
And served the younger. 'Ah this golden space
Doth cage the airy pinions of my dove!
And ah this value, which might prove and more
Another love, seems simony to the grace
Of ours!' Thus while one passion doth protest,
The other cries: 'I care not how it be!
For, givest thou much or little, worst or best,
Nor am I richer nor thou dispossest;
My fond subtraction is still thine in me,
And all thy dear remainder mine in thee!''

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Why love the moon?

Why love the moon?
Because she is fair?
Because she seems so debonair?

The moon you love lives away so far,
She left you long ago for the stars;
For which in her insecurities she has prevailed,
As she hides behind her silver veil.

Why love the moon?
Because she shines?
Because you think her beauty divine?

The face she shows is but a play,
There’s another side she never displays;
A side so dark you cannot see,
It’s there she hides her agonies.

Why love the moon?
Because she is there?
Because you think you have her care?

Every month she shows her entire face,
You stare at her beauty and sit in her grace;
But as the days pass she turns to the Sun,
The person who has her eternal love.

The Sun however rejects her again,
So she turns back to you to comfort her pain;
And again you accept her, again and again,
It is your heart she holds,
it has been slain.

So why love the moon,
The Superficial moon,
The Cruel, the Uncaring and Inconsistent moon,
The moon who Scorns you!
The moon who Left you!
The moon who CHEATS WHEN SHE'S BEHIND YOU!

...because you love her.

poem by Warren Chan
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