The Nymph’s Reply To The Shepherd
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,
The Coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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Her Reply
IF all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither--soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,--
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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The Passionate Shepherd to his Love
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherds's swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
poem by Christopher Marlowe
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Thy Nightly Gown, Thy Shoes, Thy Shows and Bed of Roses
Thy nightly gown, thy shoes, thy shows and bed of roses
Bring back thy cap, thy kirtle and the thousands of poises
Soon, too soon they break, too soon wither, hast to be forgotten
In folly ripe, in dash to edge, in madness or reason rotten
Belt of straw and ivy meadows with sprouting buds
Coral clasps and spring with amber studs
All these in me no means can tarnish or move
To come to thy and be thy eternal love
But can youth last, and love still breed
Have joys no date, no limits no age no need
The shades and memories of these delights of love
Will prove any age or time's blemish of you my precious dove
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I Love Thee
I love thee—I love thee!
'Tis all that I can say;—
It is my vision in the night,
My dreaming in the day;
The very echo of my heart,
The blessing when I pray:
I love thee—I love thee!
Is all that I can say.
I love thee—I love thee!
Is ever on my tongue;
In all my proudest poesy
That chorus still is sung;
It is the verdict of my eyes,
Amidst the gay and young:
I love thee—I love thee!
A thousand maids among.
I love thee—I love thee!
Thy bright hazel glance,
The mellow lute upon those lips,
Whose tender tones entrance;
But most, dear heart of hearts, thy proofs
That still these words enhance,
I love thee—I love thee!
Whatever be thy chance.
poem by Thomas Hood
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Tell thee truth, sweet; no
TELL thee truth, sweet; no.
Truth is cross and sad and cold:
Lies are pitiful and kind,
Honey-soft as Love's own tongue:
Let me, love, lie so.
Lies are like a summer wind,
Wooing flower-buds to unfold
Lies will last while men are young.
Tell thee truth, love; no.
Let me, sweet, lie so.
Lies are Hope's light ministers,
Footless birds upon the wing:
Truth's a name for plodding care:
Tell thee truth, sweet; no.
Truth's the east wind on the Spring—
'Tis the wind, not Spring-time, errs.
Lies will last while maids are fair.
Let me lie, love, so.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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A Madrigal
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare:
Youth is full of sports,
Age's breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is lame:
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold,
Youth is wild, and Age is tame:-
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee;
O! my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee-
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Come Dance with Me - Parody Christopher Marlowe - Come Live with Me and be My Love
Come dance with me and find release,
howl to the moon, with wild wolves run,
no nightmares now as heart finds peace, -
a stellar future crowned with fun
shall underwrite harvest increase
two reap together, story spun
from morn to night as worries cease,
while one and one at last make one.
Come dance we'll circumnavigate
the seven seas as zephyr’s breeze
anticipates and may translate
past cares to luck which soul strings frees.
Harp, Terpsichore shall play as Fate
unwinds past phantom_mime banshees,
life’s letter stamps ‘reciprocate’
inventing new realities.
Come dance with me, unlearn life’s woe
owe only to your inner voice
as chivalry and honour flow -
no need to justify your choice.
Slow motion – Time stood still – will throw
away wait’s weights as both rejoice
in unexpected overthrow
of anchors as trim sails we hoist.
Come dance with me, no strings attached –
except of harp or violin -
devotion, eloquence unmatched,
will shed all lies of ties that sin.
Thus inner doors may be unlatched,
as new dimensions open in
embracing wave which saves unscratched
soul stirred from hibernation’s bin.
Come dance with me, endearing smile
will echo caring, sharing, joy,
while Lara’s theme will reconcile
true love to trust, no wiles employ.
Tiara crowned Princess no guile
may meet who, sweet, greets verse employ
as an expression timed to dial
away Time’s hands all else destroy.
Come dance with me, no judgment blind
will claim, will, blame, will shame, reject, -
all icicles soon left behind
Spring’s robin sings you’re soul elect.
From past which could be less unkind
we’ll destination fly direct
where all but lines are underlined,
no need for conduct circumspect.
Come dance, together we’ll unlearn
the past’s mistakes, to future fair
to promised land hand, hand, will turn
with light and laughter everywhere.
The seasons slip by, none return,
yet bird’s song echoes, in your hair
may make its nest, chirp soft, not spurn,
and answer questions pondered there.
Come dance with me, I’ll hold you tight,
In tenderness which knows no bounds,
Restoring hidden wings for flight
Tears soon shall ceasee, – for fears no grounds.
Here magic, comfort, and respite,
there melody received resounds,
acceptance and contentment quite
unmeasured pleasure ache impounds.
Come dance with me, and we will learn
what makes lips tingle, goose-bumps rise,
what makes spine shiver, plush blush burn
each day will bring some fresh surprise.
Eyes Isis envies will discern
from green to blue each spark that flies,
as touch, from glitter fairy’s fern
may guide, not steer, still share concern.
Come dance with me, I’ll always keep,
my word - a promise from my heart -
integrity runs very deep,
each part of each need never part.
Thus whether way is slope or steep
Until Earth’s end – which sings fresh start –
alert I’d watch awake, asleep,
protecting dreams from sudden start.
Come dance, from trap or golden cage,
forever free to spread your wings
in harmony which knows nor rage,
nor stings nor slaps, - where spirit sings
in ecstasy as, turning page,
we’ll Autumn sage and Summer’s swings
unite as, taking center stage,
Spring warmth from Winter’s tumult springs.
Come dance, your silent grace shall show
how one above, below, unique
shines out, from shadows free, whose glow
pre-empts necessity to speak.
From yesterdays the future’s flow
shall still remember tender cheek,
yet turn towards joy’s overflow,
life liberate from sadness, pique.
Come dance to tune which wounded heart
returns to health and inspiration
we’ll reel, we’ll heal, real hopes may chart
beyond old altar’s altercation.
Past struggles’ tide and tears depart,
as sun and moon anticipation
eliminate invasive dart,
while heralding emancipation.
Come dance with me, we’ll share the key
that opens inspiration’s portal
uncover wellspring’s latency -
spirit infinite, immortal, -
find answers to eternity
withheld from passing shadow mortal
as soul’s connection as one we
establish, spurn deceptions’ maw well.
Come dance with me, I’ve said before, -
who twice ten thousand lines could add, -
and here repeat for one time more
ambition plain: to turn sad glad.
If this sweet song your pleasure move
this greeting was inscribed Above
all let and hindrance swift remove –
come live with me and be my love …
3 February 2007
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Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kittle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle,
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull.
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each My morning,
If these delights thy mind may move,
then live with me and be my love.
Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593 Published 1592
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COME LIVE WITH ME - THE NYMPH'S REPLY
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither - soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs, -
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
Sir Walter RALEIGH 1552_1618 rale02_0001_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
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THE BAIT
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.
There will the river whispering run
Warmed by thy eyes, more than the sun.
And there th'enamoured fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.
When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
By sun, or moon, thou darkenest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.
Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs, with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net:
Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest,
Or curious traitors, sleave silk flies
Bewitch poor fishes' wandering eyes.
For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait,
That fish, that is not catched thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.
John DONNE 1572_1631 donn02_0003_marl01_0002 PXX_JMX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE SHEPHERD TO HIS FAIR ONE
To Phillis, to love and live with him
Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.
The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,
With crawling woodbine over-spread:
By which the silver-shedding streams
Shall gently melt thee into dreams.
Thy clothing next, shall be a gown
Made of the fleeces' purest down.
The tongues of kids shall be thy meat;
Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat
The paste of filberts for thy bread
With cream of cowslips buttered:
Thy feasting-table shall be hills
With daisies spread, and daffadils;
Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,
For meat, shall give thee melody.
I'll give thee chains and carcanets
Of primroses and violets.
A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
That richly wrought, and this as brave;
So that as either shall express
The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,
When Themilis his pastime makes,
There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.
On holydays, when virgins meet
To dance the heys with nimble feet,
Thou shalt come forth, and then appear
The Queen of Roses for that year.
And having danced ('bove all the best)
Carry the garland from the rest,
In wicker-baskets maids shall bring
To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
The blushing apple, bashful pear,
And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.
Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
The name of Phillis in the rind
Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.
To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
Be-prank'd with ribbands, to this end,
This, this alluring hook might be
Less for to catch a sheep, than me.
Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
Not made of ale, but spiced wine;
To make thy maids and self free mirth,
All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.
Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
Of winning colours, that shall move
Others to lust, but me to love. -
These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
If thou wilt love, and live with me.
Robert HERRICK 1591_1674 herr01_0007_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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COME LIVE WITH ME AND BE MY LOVE
Come, live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of peace and plenty, bed and board,
That chance employment may afford.
I’ll handle dainties on the docks
And thou shalt read of summer frocks:
At evening by the sour canals
We’ll hope to hear some madrigals.
Care on thy maiden brow shall put
A wreath of wrinkles, and thy foot
Be shod with pain: not silken dress
But toil shall tire thy loveliness.
Hunger shall make thy modest zone
And cheat fond death of all but bone –
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
Cecil Day LEWIS 1904_1972 lewi2_0001_marl01_0002 PXX_JLX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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ATLANTIC CITY IDYLL
Come bet with me and be my luck
and bring me gimlets tart with lime.
We’ll chase the wily holy buck
and toss the dice and sneer at time.
And we will dazzle in our clothes
and neon dazzle us as well.
We’ll strike a sleek and moneyed pose,
we’ll yell a blithe, ecstatic yell
until at last we’ve squandered all,
shot the wad and maxed the cards,
until we’ve quaffed till dawns appall
and hoarse are velvet-throated bards.
Come stroll with me and be my muse
of feckless hope and vain desire.
On the boardwalk the huckster woos
and Armless Annie tongues her lyre.
Kate BENEDICT 19xx_20xx bene02_0001_marl01_0002 PWX_JXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE DISPASSIONATE SHEPHERDESS
Do not live with me, do not be my love.
And yet I think we may some pleasures prove
That who enjoy each other, in the haste
Of their most inward kissing, seldom taste.
Being absent from me, you shall still delay
To come to me, and if another day,
No matter, so your greeting burn as though
The words had all the while been picked in snow.
No other gift you'll offer me but such
As I can neither wear, nor smell, nor touch -
No flowers breathing of evening, and no stones
Whose chilly fire outlasts our skeletons.
You'll give me once a thought that stings, and once
A look to make my blood doubt that it runs.
You'll give me rough and sharp perplexities,
And never, never will you give me ease.
For one another's blessing not designed,
Marked for possession only of the mind,
And soon, because such cherishing is brief,
To ask whereon was founded our belief.
That there was anything at all uncommon
In what each felt for each as man and woman -
If this then be our case, if this our story,
Shall we rail at heaven? Shall we, at the worst, be sorry?
Heaven's too deaf, we should grow hoarse with railing,
And sorrow never quickened what was failing.
But if you think we thus may pleasures prove,
Do not live with me, do not be my love.
Babette DEUTSCH 1895_1982 deut01_0001_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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BACCHANAL
“Come live with me and be my love, ”
He said, in substance. “There’s no vine
We will not pluck the clusters of,
Or grape we will not turn to wine.”
It’s autumn of their second year.
Now he, in seasonal pursuit,
With rich and modulated cheer,
Brings home the festive purple fruit;
And she, by passion once demented,
- That woman out of Botticelli –
She brews and bottles, unfermented,
The stupid and abiding jelly.
VRIES Peter de 1910_19 vrie01_0001_marl01_0002 PWX_LJX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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LOVE UNDER THE REPUBLICANS (OR DEMOCRATS)
Come live with me and be my love
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of a marriage conducted with economy
In the Twentieth Century Anno Donomy.
We’ll live in a dear little walk-up flat
With practically room to swing a cat
And a potted cactus to give it hauteur
And a bathtub equipped with dark brown water.
We’ll eat, without undue discouragement,
Foods low in cost but high in nouragement
And quaff with pleasure, while chatting wittily,
The peculiar wine of Little Italy.
We’ll remind each other it’s smart to be thrifty
And buy our clothes for something-fifty.
We’ll bus for miles on holidays
For seas at depressing matinees,
And every Sunday we’ll have a lark
And take a walk in Central Park.
And one of these days not too remote
You’ll probably up and cut my throat.
Ogden NASH 1902_1971 - Verses from 1929 On
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Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE PASSIONATE PROFITEER TO HIS LOVE
Come feed with me and be my love,
And pleasures of the table prove,
Where Prunier and The Ivy yield
Choice dainties of the stream and field.
At Claridge thou shalt duckling eat,
Sip vintages both dry and sweet,
And thou shalt squeeze between thy lips
Asparagus with buttered tips.
On caviare my love shall graze,
And plump on salmon mayonnaise,
And browse at Scott’s beside thy swain
On lobster Newburg with champagne.
Between hors d’oeuvres and canapés
I’ll feast thee on poularde soufflé
And every day within thy reach
Pile melon, nectarine and peach.
Come share at the Savoy with me
The menu of austerity;
If in these pastures thou wouldst rove
Then feed with me and be my love.
« Sagittarius » Targets 1942
KATZIN Olga Miller 1896_1987 katz01_0009_marl01_0002 PXX_JLX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
I love thee - I love thee!
'Tis all that I can say;
It is my vision in the night,
My dreaming in the day;
The very echo of my heart,
The blessing when I pray:
I love thee - I love thee!
Is all that I can say.
I love thee - I love thee!
Is ever on my tongue;
In all my proudest poesy
That chorus still is sung;
It is the verdict of my eyes,
Amidst the gay and young:
I love thee - I love thee!
A thousand maids among.
I love thee - I love thee!
Thy bright and hazel glance,
The mellow lute upon those lips,
Whose tender tones entrance;
But most, dear heart of hearts, thy proofs
That still these words enhance.
I love thee - I love thee!
Whatever be thy chance.
Thomas Hood 1799_1845
Hood01_0008_marl01_0002 PXX_LXX
Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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A MICROSCOPIC SERENADE
“Oh come, my love, and seek with me
A realm by grosser eye unseen,
Where fairy forms will welcome thee,
And dainty creatures hail thee queen.
In silent pools the tube I’ll ply,
Where green conferva-threads lie curled,
And proudly bring to thy bright eye
The trophies of the protist world.
We’ll rouse the stentor from his lair,
And gaze into the cyclops ’ eye;
In chara and nitella hair
The protoplasmic stream descry,
For ever weaving to and fro
With faint molecular melody,
And curious rotifers I’ll show,
And graceful vorticellidae.
Where melicertae ply their craft
We’ll watch the playful water-bear,
And no envenomed hydra’s shaft
Shall mar our peaceful pleasure there;
But while we whisper love’ssweettale
We’ll trace, with sympathetic cart,
Within the embryonic snail
The growing rudimental heart.
Where rolls the volvox sphere of green,
And plastids move in Brownian dance -
If, wandering ‘mid that gentle scene,
Two fond amoebae shall perchance
Be changed to one beneath our sight
By process of biocrasis,
We’ll recognise, with rare delight,
A type of our prospective bliss.
Or dearer thou by far to me
In thy sweet maidenly estate
Than any seventy-fifth could be,
Of aperture however great!
Come, go with me and we will stray
Through realm by grosser eye unseen,
Where protophytes shall homage pay,
And protozoa hail thee queen.”
“Jacob HENRICI” Scribners November 1879
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Parody Christopher MARLOWE 1564_1593
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love – Come Live with Me and Be my Love
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THE PASSIONATE HOUSEHOLDER TO HIS LOVE
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Faithless Shepherdess
WHILE that the sun with his beams hot
Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain,
Philon the shepherd, late forgot,
Sitting beside a crystal fountain
In shadow of a green oak tree,
Upon his pipe this song play'd he:
Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
So long as I was in your sight
I was your heart, your soul, your treasure;
And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd
Burning in flames beyond all measure:
--Three days endured your love to me,
And it was lost in other three!
Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Another shepherd you did see,
To whom your heart was soon enchained;
Full soon your love was leapt from me,
Full soon my place he had obtained.
Soon came a third your love to win,
And we were out and he was in.
Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Sure you have made me passing glad
That you your mind so soon removed,
Before that I the leisure had
To choose you for my best beloved:
For all my love was pass'd and done
Two days before it was begun.
Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
CRABB'D Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short;
Youth is nimble, Age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and Age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee;
O, my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee:
O, sweet shepherd, hie thee!
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
poem by William Byrd
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How Do I Love Thee?
how do
i love thee?
i love thee
till i take to
every street
you walked
to get a feel
of you
a self-serving
delusion
i drown
myself in
to get you
close to me
i love thee
till i listen,
read, juggle
in each thing
you told me
me about
to live up
to your
dream
your love
sweeps
through
me like
a tsunami
builds up
a greater me
cured sloth, inertia
i love thee till
i am left
soaked, cold,
on an empty street
but ever strong
- inspired
by your words -
to take on
life challenges
if i could move
the world
i could have moved
it for you
even to the farthest star
i swear
inspired by
How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Lines To A Critic
I.
Honey from silkworms who can gather,
Or silk from the yellow bee?
The grass may grow in winter weather
As soon as hate in me.
II.
Hate men who cant, and men who pray,
And men who rail like thee;
An equal passion to repay
They are not coy like me.
III.
Or seek some slave of power and gold
To be thy dear heart's mate;
Thy love will move that bigot cold
Sooner than me, thy hate.
IV.
A passion like the one I prove
Cannot divided be;
I hate thy want of truth and love--
How should I then hate thee?
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Still
Life passes yet I remain still
Frozen in the winter of happiness's joy
Caught in the icy flame of love's thrill
Dreaming of thee, love dreams doth deploy
Tinges of frost over mine golden hair
Rivers of cold blood through mine mauve vein
Crystals of ice to capture mine eternal stare
And scarlet love dead in my lips lain
All around me doth winter melt
And leaves turn orange and gently play
In the summer heat of the sun's swelt
As spring winds run through the fall day.
Still I move and still I change not
Dreaming of thee and the cold love thy brought…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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To Catharine
I'll love thee as long as I live,
Whate'er thy condition may be;
All else but my life would I give,
That thou wast as partial to me.
I love thee because thou art fair,
And fancy no other beside;
I languish thy pleasures to share,
Whatever my life may betide.
I'll love thee when youth's vital beam
Grows dim on the visage of cares;
And trace back on time's rapid stream,
Thy beauty when sinking in years.
Though nature no longer is gay,
With blooms which the simple adore,
Let virtue forbid me to say,
That Cath'rine is lovely no more.
poem by George Moses Horton
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Hymn XXVII: Saviour, the World's and Mine
Saviour, the world's and mine,
Was ever grief like thine!
Thou my pain, my curse hast took,
All my sins were laid on thee;
Help me, Lord; to thee I look,
Draw me, Saviour, after thee.
'Tis done! my God hath died;
My Love is crucified!
Break, this stony heart of mine;
Pour, mine eyes, a ceaseless flood;
Feel, my soul, the pangs divine;
Catch, my heart, the issuing blood!
When, O my God, shall I
For thee submit to die?
How the mighty debt repay?
Rival of thy passion prove?
Lead me in thyself, the Way;
Melt my hardness into love.
To love is all my wish,
I only live for this;
Grant me, Lord, my heart's desire,
There by faith for ever dwell;
This I always will require,
Thee, and only thee, to feel.
Thy power I pant to prove,
Rooted and fixed in love;
Strengthened by thy Spirit's might,
Wise to fathom things divine,
What the length, and breadth, and height,
What the depth of love like thine.
Ah! give me this to know,
With all thy saints below;
Swells my soul to compass thee,
Gasps in thee to live and move;
Filled with all the Deity,
All immersed and lost in love!
poem by Charles Wesley
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Hymn XXVII: Saviour, the World's and Mine
Saviour, the world's and mine,
Was ever grief like thine!
Thou my pain, my curse hast took,
All my sins were laid on thee;
Help me, Lord; to thee I look,
Draw me, Saviour, after thee.
'Tis done! my God hath died;
My Love is crucified!
Break, this stony heart of mine;
Pour, mine eyes, a ceaseless flood;
Feel, my soul, the pangs divine;
Catch, my heart, the issuing blood!
When, O my God, shall I
For thee submit to die?
How the mighty debt repay?
Rival of thy passion prove?
Lead me in thyself, the Way;
Melt my hardness into love.
To love is all my wish,
I only live for this;
Grant me, Lord, my heart's desire,
There by faith for ever dwell;
This I always will require,
Thee, and only thee, to feel.
Thy power I pant to prove,
Rooted and fixed in love;
Strengthened by thy Spirit's might,
Wise to fathom things divine,
What the length, and breadth, and height,
What the depth of love like thine.
Ah! give me this to know,
With all thy saints below;
Swells my soul to compass thee,
Gasps in thee to live and move;
Filled with all the Deity,
All immersed and lost in love!
poem by John Wesley
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If I Forget Thee
If I forget thee! How shall I forget thee?
Sword of the mighty! Prince and Lord of War!
Captive I bind me
To the spears that blind me,
Rage in my heart and love for evermore.
If I forget thee! How shall I forget thee?
Man the destroyer! Life that made mine move!
They that come after
Let them earn my laughter,
Ay, but my anger, never, nor my love.
If I forget thee! How should I forget thee?
One man there is no woman dares despise.
Hate him it may be,
Wound him if the way be,
Nay, but forget him? Not before she dies!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Transition
A little while to walk with thee, dear child;
To lean on thee my weak and weary head;
Then evening comes: the winter sky is wild,
The leafless trees are black, the leaves long dead.
A little while to hold thee and to stand,
By harvest-fields of bending golden corn;
Then the predestined silence, and thine hand,
Lost in the night, long and weary and forlorn.
A little while to love thee, scarcely time
To love thee well enough; then time to part,
To fare through wintry fields alone and climb
The frozen hills, not knowing where thou art.
Short summer-time and then, my heart's desire,
The winter and the darkness: one by one
The roses fall, the pale roses expire
Beneath the slow decadence of the sun.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Summer
And sleeps thy heart when flower and tree
Adorn the summer stillness?
And did young Spring pass over thee
In chillness?
Their scent delights and pleases,
On petalled breezes blown,
But in their beauty freezes
Thine own.
The flower awakes, the tree is leafed,
Yet love in thee is dumb,—
Flowers fall, fruits ripen, corn is sheafed,
Ho! Winter’s cold will come.
When wakens some November morn
Dew-soft, around thee brightly,
And blossoms on the grey hawthorn
Lie whitely,
Come thou, thy bosom beating,
And learn, through new-found bliss,
No time so joyous, fleeting,
As this.
Come thou, with shadows in thine eyes,
And singing in thy heart,
And learn, ’mid trees, with flowers and skies,
How young and dear thou art.
poem by Johannes Carl Andersen
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A World For Love
Oh, the world is all too rude for thee, with much ado and care;
Oh, this world is but a rude world, and hurts a thing so fair;
Was there a nook in which the world had never been to sear,
That place would prove a paradise when thou and Love were near.
And there to pluck the blackberry, and there to reach the sloe,
How joyously and happily would Love thy partner go;
Then rest when weary on a bank, where not a grassy blade
Had eer been bent by Trouble's feet, and Love thy pillow made.
For Summer would be ever green, though sloes were in their prime,
And Winter smile his frowns to Spring, in beauty's happy clime;
And months would come, and months would go, and all in sunny mood,
And everything inspired by thee grow beautifully good.
And there to make a cot unknown to any care and pain,
And there to shut the door alone on singing wind and rain--
Far, far away from all the world, more rude than rain or wind,
Oh, who could wish a sweeter home, or better place to find?
Than thus to love and live with thee, thou beautiful delight!
Than thus to live and love with thee the summer day and night!
The Earth itself, where thou hadst rest, would surely smile to see
Herself grow Eden once again, possest of Love and thee
poem by John Clare
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We May Live Together
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Wilt Thou Take Me For Thy Slave?
Wilt thou take me for thy slave,
With my folly and my love?
Wilt thou take me for the bondsman of thy pride?
Thou who dearer art to me than all the world beside;
For I love thee as no other man can love.
Wilt thou take me to thy soul,
For the truth which thou shalt prove?
Wilt thou clothe me with the riches of thy care?
Thou who dearer art to me than gold and jewels rare;
For I love thee as no other man can love.
Wilt thou take me for thy king,
While the sun and stars shall move?
Wilt thou pay me back the homage I have given?
Oh thou dearer unto me than sun and stars and heaven!
For I love thee as no other man can love.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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