Sonnet 97: Dian, That Fain Would Cheer
Dian, that fain would cheer her friend the Night,
Shows her oft at the full her fairest race,
Bringing with her those starry nymphs, whose chase
From heav'nly standing hits each mortal wight.
But ah, poor Night, in love with Phoebus' light,
And endlessly despairing of his grace,
Herself (to show no other joy hath place)
Silent and sad in mourning weeds doth dight:
Ev'n so (alas) a lady, Dian's peer,
With chice delights and rarest company
Would fain drive clouds from out my heavy cheer.
But woe is me, though Joy itself were she,
She could not show my blind brain ways of joy
While I despair my Sun's sight to enjoy.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Related quotes
Fairytale Cheer
I see something that is bright
Like small patches of the light
or may be it is just a dream
Very real and soft as a cream
Where moments are dipped in fain
And there is no sign of pain
Where everything is full of delight
And there its all day no night
Or may be I should say my dear
it is a fairy tale of cheer
Where only good things survive
And show no sign of of a bitter life
And there i enjoy everything
Moving to and fro with joy's ring
And I see everything dip in fain
And showing no sign of any pain
Just like all the good in fairy tales
Where joy cannot be measured in scale
Because everywhere it is light
And everything is shining bright
And I wish if I can forever stay
In this imaginary world's day
Where everything is happy and rare
And like a fairy tale of cheer.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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The Blind Boy
O SAY what is that thing call’d Light,
Which I must ne’er enjoy;
What are the blessings of the sight,
O tell your poor blind boy!
You talk of wondrous things you see,
You say the sun shines bright;
I feel him warm, but how can he
Or make it day or night?
My day or night myself I make
Whene’er I sleep or play;
And could I ever keep awake
With me ’twere always day.
With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne’er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy:
Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy.
poem by Colley Cibber
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On Hermocratia (From The Greek)
Hermocratia named -- save only one --
Twice fifteen births I bore, and buried none;
For neither Phoebus pierced my thriving joys,
Nor Dian -- she my girls, or he my boys.
But Dian rather, when my daughters lay
In parturition, chased their pangs away.
And all my sons, by Phoebus' bounty, shared
A vigorous youth, by sickness unimpair'd.
O Niobe! far less prolific! see
Thy hoast against Latona shamed by me!
poem by William Cowper
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Break of Day (another of the same)
'Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise, because 'tis light?
Did we lie down, because 'twas night?
Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither
Should in despite of light keep us together.
Light hath no tongue, but is all eye;
If it could speak as well as spy,
This were the worst that it could say -
That being well, I fain would stay,
And that I loved my heart and honour so,
That I would not from her, that had them, go.
Must business thee from hence remove?
Oh, that's the worst disease of love!
The poor, the foul, the false, love can
Admit, but not the busied man.
He which hath business, and makes love, doth do
Such wrong as when a married man doth woo.
poem by John Donne
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Break of Day
'Tis true, 'tis day ; what though it be?
O, wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise because 'tis light?
Did we lie down because 'twas night?
Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
Should in despite of light keep us together.
Light hath no tongue, but is all eye;
If it could speak as well as spy,
This were the worst that it could say,
That being well I fain would stay,
And that I loved my heart and honour so
That I would not from him, that had them, go.
Must business thee from hence remove?
O ! that's the worst disease of love,
The poor, the foul, the false, love can
Admit, but not the busied man.
He which hath business, and makes love, doth do
Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Enjoy A Beautiful Life
Look at the bright shinning blue sky
Look at the birds that're flying high
Look at the flowers and their view
That's all spreading joy that is true
Look at the star that is bright
Look at all life's pleasing sight
Look at the sun with a smile
That'll help you to go another mile
And when you'll do all this dear
Then you'll feel how much others care
And you'll enjoy a beautiful life
Where joy and fain all do survive
And you'll find the path of fain
will surely come in the way of pain
And will show you life's sight
which are full of joy and delight.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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On The Rising Of The Sun
Look, look, brave Sol doth peep up from beneath,
Shows us his golden face, doth on us breathe;
He also doth compass us round with glories,
Whilst he ascends up to his highest stories.
Where he his banner over us displays,
And gives us light to see our works and ways.
Nor are we now, as at the peep of light,
To question, is it day, or is it night?
The night is gone, the shadows fled away,
And we now most sure are that it is day.
Our eyes behold it, and our hearts believe it;
Nor can the wit of man in this deceive it.
And thus it is when Jesus shows his face,
And doth assure us of his love and grace.
poem by John Bunyan
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Sonnet XXXV: The Lamp's Shrine
Sometimes I fain would find in thee some fault,
That I might love thee still in spite of it:
Yet how should our Lord Love curtail one whit
Thy perfect praise whom most he would exalt?
Alas! he can but make my heart's low vault
Even in men's sight unworthier, being lit
By thee, who thereby show'st more exquisite
Like fiery chrysoprase in deep basalt.
Yet will I nowise shrink; but at Love's shrine
Myself within the beams his brow doth dart
Will set the flashing jewel of thy heart
In that dull chamber where it deigns to shine:
For lo! in honour of thine excellencies
My heart takes pride to show how poor it is.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The Wistful Lady
'Love, while you were away there came to me -
From whence I cannot tell -
A plaintive lady pale and passionless,
Who bent her eyes upon me critically,
And weighed me with a wearing wistfulness,
As if she knew me well.'
'I saw no lady of that wistful sort
As I came riding home.
Perhaps she was some dame the Fates constrain
By memories sadder than she can support,
Or by unhappy vacancy of brain,
To leave her roof and roam?'
'Ah, but she knew me. And before this time
I have seen her, lending ear
To my light outdoor words, and pondering each,
Her frail white finger swayed in pantomime,
As if she fain would close with me in speech,
And yet would not come near.
'And once I saw her beckoning with her hand
As I came into sight
At an upper window. And I at last went out;
But when I reached where she had seemed to stand,
And wandered up and down and searched about,
I found she had vanished quite.'
Then thought I how my dead Love used to say,
With a small smile, when she
Was waning wan, that she would hover round
And show herself after her passing day
To any newer Love I might have found,
But show her not to me.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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To Anactoria, Who Has Forsaken A Once-Loved Girlfriend Of Sappho
Rushing war-hosts, horsemen or foot or galleys —
These doth one call, those doth another, fairest
Sights on earth: I say that my love of all is
Sweetest and rarest.
Hear the proof, which lightly, I wot, convinces: —
'Mid the comely, Helen would fain discover
One without peer, and of the goodly princes
Chose for her lover
Him who brought the glory of Troy to ruin!
Reckless all of parent and child, she lavished
On the alien love for her own undoing;
Troyward was ravished.
Anactoria — she who contemns the blessing
Near at hand, is like to a reed wind-shaken.
Such are you! — love held in secure possessing
You have forsaken.
Her whose footfall's music myself had rather
Hear, and see her face in its beauty beaming.
Than to gaze where horsemen and footmen gather
Panoply-gleaming.
What is best is set above man's attaining;
Yet, if Fortune smiled on us once, 'tis better
To recall with prayer and with upward-straining
Than to forget her.
Complaint Of The Absence Of Her Lover Being Upon The Sea.
O HAPPY dames that may embrace
The fruit of your delight ;
Help to bewail the woful case,
And eke the heavy plight,
Of me, that wonted to rejoice
The fortune of my pleasant choice :
Good ladies ! help to fill my mourning voice.
In ship freight with rememberance
Of thoughts and pleasures past,
He sails that hath in governance
My life while it will last ;
With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,
Furthering his hope, that is his sail,
Toward me, the sweet port of his avail.
Alas ! how oft in dreams I see
Those eyes that were my food ;
Which sometime so delighted me,
That yet they do me good :
Wherewith I wake with his return,
Whose absent flame did make me burn :
But when I find the lack, Lord ! how I mourn.
When other lovers in arms across,
Rejoice their chief delight ;
Drowned in tears, to mourn my loss,
I stand the bitter night
In my window, where I may see
Before the winds how the clouds flee :
Lo ! what a mariner love hath made of me.
And in green waves when the salt flood
Doth rise by rage of wind ;
A thousand fancies in that mood
Assail my restless mind.
Alas ! now drencheth1 my sweet foe,
That with the spoil of my heart did go,
And left me ; but, alas ! why did he so ?
And when the seas wax calm again,
To chase from me annoy,
My doubtful hope doth cause me plain ;
So dread cuts off my joy.
Thus is my wealth mingled with woe :
And of each thought a doubt doth grow ;
Now he comes ! will he come ? alas ! no, no!
poem by Henry Howard
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Complaint Of The Absence Of Her Lover Being Upon The Sea
O HAPPY dames! that may embrace
The fruit of your delight,
Help to bewail the woful case
And eke the heavy plight
Of me, that wonted to rejoice
The fortune of my pleasant choice:
Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.
In ship, freight with rememberance
Of thoughts and pleasures past,
He sails that hath in governance
My life while it will last:
With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,
Furthering his hope, that is his sail,
Toward me, the sweet port of his avail.
Alas! how oft in dreams I see
Those eyes that were my food;
Which sometime so delighted me,
That yet they do me good:
Wherewith I wake with his return
Whose absent flame did make me burn:
But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn!
When other lovers in arms across
Rejoice their chief delight,
Drownà ed in tears, to mourn my loss
I stand the bitter night
In my window where I may see
Before the winds how the clouds flee:
Lo! what a mariner love hath made me!
And in green waves when the salt flood
Doth rise by rage of wind,
A thousand fancies in that mood
Assail my restless mind.
Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe,
That with the spoil of my heart did go,
And left me; but alas! why did he so?
And when the seas wax calm again
To chase fro me annoy,
My doubtful hope doth cause me plain;
So dread cuts off my joy.
Thus is my wealth mingled with woe
And of each thought a doubt doth grow;
—Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no.
poem by Henry Howard
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Faster Than The Speed Of The Night
(Jim Steinman)
I don't want to let another minute got by
They're slipping tho ough out finger, but we're ready to fly
The night'll be our cover and we'll huddle below
We got the music in our bodies and the radio
And when the mourning arrives it'll all be gone
Disappearing in (to) the crack of dawn
We better make our move now before the sun is awake
It's time to put up or shut up and to pick up the pace
And I don't want to let another minute go by
Love is going to get us while the moon is in the sky
We may be running out of night, but never running out of steam
We're acting on a hunch, and we'll be acting out a dream
There really isn't any time to lose
They're going to catch us if we wait until it gets too light
You're such a pretty boy
Let me show you what to do, and you'll do it
But you gotta move faster
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
It's all we ever wanted
And it's all we'll ever need
And it's slipping through our fingers
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
It's all we ever wanted
And it's all we'll ever need
And it's slipping through our fingers
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Let me show you how to drive me crazy
Let me show you how to make me feel so good
Let me show you how to take me to the edgeof the stars and then back again
You've gotta show me how to drive you crazy
You've gotta show me all the things you want to happen to you
We've gotta tell each other everything we always wanted someone to do
I don't want to push you now and I don't want to rush
We're getting closer every second now, but close is not enough
The night'll be our cover and we'll huddle below
We got the musicin our fingers and the radio
There really isn't any time to lose
We're going to lose it if we wait until it gets too light
You're such a pretty boy
Let me show you what to do, and you'll do it
But you gotta move faster
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
It's all we ever wanted
And it's all we'll ever need
And it's slipping through our fingers
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
It's all we ever wanted
And it's all we'll ever need
And it's slipping through our fingers
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Boatswain’s Song
A CHEER to keep our hearts up,
A cup to drown our tears,
And we'll talk of those who perished,
Our mates in former years.
The Betsey was a vessel
As tight as ship could be--
And we cheered to keep our hearts up,
As she tossed upon the sea.
Thro' one dark day we struggled
To stem the foaming tide;
Night came--the straining vessel
All helplessly did ride.
The storm was raging loudly,
The angry heavens did frown--
A cheer to keep your hearts up--
The Betsey, she went down!
The morning broke which many
Might never see again,
And thick and blind and heavy
Came down the drenching rain
We got the smallest boat out,
Jack, Tom, and I, and gave
A cheer to keep our hearts up,
As we toiled against the wave.
Three days we struggled onward,
Without a sight of land;
And we grew so faint and failing,
We could scarcely bear a hand.
It's a bitter thing to battle
With the ocean for your foe:
We cheered to keep our hearts up,
But the cheer was hoarse and low.
Then we thought, with sinking spirits,
Of the shore we'd never see:
Tom wept, and thought of Mary--
Jack talked of home with me.
Each brawny arm grew fainter,
The boat was thinly stored:
A cheer to keep your hearts up--
Poor Jack went overboard!
At last, somehow we landed
Where the cliff was steep and high;
We told Jack's poor old mother,
(We were too much men to cry.)
They'd ha' liked to see me Boatswain,
The Betsey's gallant crew.
Come, a cheer to keep our hearts up,
We shall all of us die too.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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A Birthday Present
```Say what, to please you, you would have me be.''
Then listen, dear!
I fain would have you very fair to see,
And sweet to hear.
`You should have Aphrodite's form and face,
With Dian's tread;
And something of Minerva's lofty grace
Should crown your head.
`Summer should wander in your voice, and Spring
Gleam in your gaze,
And pure thoughts ripen in your heart that bring
Calm Autumn days.
`Yours should be winning ways that make Love live,
And ne'er grow old,
With ever something yet more sweet to give,
Which you withhold.
`You should have generous hopes that can beguile
Life's doubts and fears,
And, ever waiting on your April smile,
The gift of tears.
`You should be close to us as earth and sea,
And yet as far
As Heaven itself. In sooth, I'd have you be
Just what you are.'
poem by Alfred Austin
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Mortal Angel
In the fairest love, in the fairest night
An empyrean angel weeps honey tears on she,
A mortal angel, bathed in white
As sweet as affection an earth banshee
She portent an ominous death to come
To all that listen to all that believe
Some say to all, some say to some
But in ignorance they doth deceive
For all live forever in moral unity
In the soul we don't comprehend
The soul the banshee doth see
As death comes to apprehend
The mortal angel, bathed in white
To make her a star in the fairest night……..
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The World Through My Window
Bright sunshine and golden afternoon
Is what I see from my window at noon
Where tender smiles of the lovely clouds
All clear my life's pain and doubt
I learn to impose the rhythm of life
In all the moments and events that survive
When I let go all my past fear
And swap them fairly with faith and cheer
And I put my faith in Gracious God
Who holds my hands in every odd
And heal my wounds and my pain
To show me a glimpse of peace and fain
This is what I see and feel
When I learn to hold on life's deal
And re-establish my faith in life
Where I am bound to live and survive
Life opens the gift of bliss and peace
On my injured life with hopeful lease
Where I do somersaults in rainbow hue
And brighten my life with sun's warmth too
And this is what I see now dear
The world through my window with cheer
Where life smiles back with faith and hope
To show me new vision of life without mope.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Complaint of the Absence of Her Lover being upon the Sea
O HAPPY dames! that may embrace
The fruit of your delight,
Help to bewail the woful case
And eke the heavy plight
Of me, that wonted to rejoice
The fortune of my pleasant choice:
Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.
In ship, freight with rememberance
Of thoughts and pleasures past,
He sails that hath in governance
My life while it will last:
With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,
Furthering his hope, that is his sail,
Toward me, the swete port of his avail.
Alas! how oft in dreams I see
Those eyes that were my food;
Which sometime so delighted me,
That yet they do me good:
Wherewith I wake with his return
Whose absent flame did make me burn:
But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn!
When other lovers in arms across
Rejoice their chief delight,
Drowned in tears, to mourn my loss
I stand the bitter night
In my window where I may see
Before the winds how the clouds flee:
Lo! what a mariner love hath made me!
And in green waves when the salt flood
Doth rise by rage of wind,
A thousand fancies in that mood
Assail my restless mind.
Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe,
That with the spoil of my heart did go,
And left me; but alas! why did he so?
And when the seas wax calm again
To chase fro me annoy,
My doubtful hope doth cause me plain;
So dread cuts off my joy.
Thus is my wealth mingled with woe
And of each thought a doubt doth grow;
--Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no.
Sonnet XX: Gracious Moonlight
Even as the moon grows queenlier in mid-space
When the sky darkens, and her cloud-rapt car
Thrills with intenser radiance from afar,—
So lambent, lady, beams thy sovereign grace
When the drear soul desires thee. Of that face
What shall be said,—which, like a governing star,
Gathers and garners from all things that are
Their silent penetrative loveliness?
O'er water-daisies and wild waifs of Spring,
There where the iris rears its gold-crowned sheaf
With flowering rush and sceptred arrow-leaf,
So have I marked Queen Dian, in bright ring
Of cloud above and wave below, take wing
And chase night's gloom, as thou the spirit's grief.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Summons To Love
Phoebus, arise!
And paint the sable skies
With azure, white, and red:
Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed
That she may thy career with roses spread:
The nightingales thy coming each-where sing:
Make an eternal spring!
Give life to this dark world which lieth dead;
Spread forth thy golden hair
In larger locks than thou wast wont before,
And emperor-like decore
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair:
Chase hence the ugly night
Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light.
This is that happy morn,
That day, long-wished day,
Of all my life so dark,
(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn,
And fates my hopes betray),
Which, purely white, deserves
An everlasting diamond should it mark.
This is the morn should bring unto this grove
My Love, to hear and recompense my love.
Fair King, who all preserves,
But show thy blushing beams
And thou two sweeter eyes
Shalt see than those which by Peneus' streams
Did once thy heart surprise.
Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise:
If that ye winds would hear
A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre,
Your furious chiding stay;
Let Zephyr only breathe,
And with her tresses play.
The winds all silent are,
And Phoebus in his chair
Ensaffroning sea and air
Makes vanish every star:
Night like a drunkard reels
Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels:
The fields with flowers are decked in every hue,
The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue;
Here is the pleasant place,
And nothing wanting is, save She, alas!
poem by William Henry Drummond
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