Disdain Returned
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from starlike eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires.
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
No tears, Celia, now shall win
My resolved heart to return;
I have searched thy soul within,
And find naught but pride and scorn;
I have learned thy arts, and now
Can disdain as much as thou.
Some power, in my revenge convey
That love to her I cast away.
poem by Thomas Carew
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Related quotes
He That Loves A Rosy Cheek
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires:
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires:
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.
poem by Thomas Carew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Unfading Beauty
HE that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires:
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires.
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.
poem by Thomas Carew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Failure In Love
Oh, how sever the heart's pain,
In the love, did what I gain,
Writhing my heart and eyes rain,
I forget her, but in my dreams remain.
First awoke my sleeping emotions,
Promised with me to stay lifelong,
Her lovely eyes made in me commotions,
And sang to me a false love song.
Likely she loved me as showed her gesture,
So, I proposed and gave her gifts and rose,
But, her return taught me a lesson for future,
Cause I was given only tears and pathos.
Ruined me her coral lips and rosy cheek,
I sacrificed my everything and too, myself,
In a diana a tender heart I tried to seek,
But, given me faithlessness by my elf.
Lament! For her I lost my delights,
And like blind believed did what she speak,
I missed her badly all days and nights,
But, she pushed in ditch from the love-peak.
~20-08-07
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
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To mother with love...
An angel thou art
Beauty personified
Those gentle fingers
Those soulful eyes
A smile so gorgeous
A touch so soft
A prayer on thy lips
And answers aloft
Thy kiss so loving
Thy love so pure
Our pain in thine eyes
Thou so bravely endure
And a hug so warm
And a faith so deep
And a whisper to god
No fears to weep
And a life so unconditional
And a caress to assure
Of thy love and thy being
Of those unpaid gifts galore
A balm for each heart
A kiss for each tear
Our gift from heaven
To shield each fear
Then why do we hurt thou
And make thy cry
So ruthless, so cruel
But still not a sigh
And yet thy loves
And yet thy cares
And hopes and wishes
And add us to thy prayers
Oh, why art thou so gentle
Oh why so kind
Thou could go so much further
And leave us all behind
Holding my hands so gently
Thou then doth sighs
With that twinkle so lovely
In thine lovely eyes
Thoust uttered not a word
And yet said so much
Those gentle eyes told it all
Along with that gentle touch
And so thy stand
My mentor, my guide
To lead us all to eternity
My mater, our pride.
poem by Aashi Joshi
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To Harriet
Thy look of love has power to calm
The stormiest passion of my soul;
Thy gentle words are drops of balm
In life's too bitter bowl;
No grief is mine, but that alone
These choicest blessings I have known.
Harriet! if all who long to live
In the warm sunshine of thine eye,
That price beyond all pain must give,-
Beneath thy scorn to die;
Then hear thy chosen own too late
His heart most worthy of thy hate.
Be thou, then, one among mankind
Whose heart is harder not for state,
Thou only virtuous, gentle, kind,
Amid a world of hate;
And by a slight endurance seal
A fellow-being's lasting weal.
For pale with anguish is his cheek,
His breath comes fast, his eyes are dim,
Thy name is struggling ere he speak,
Weak is each trembling limb;
In mercy let him not endure
The misery of a fatal cure.
Oh, trust for once no erring guide!
Bid the remorseless feeling flee;
'Tis malice, 'tis revenge, 'tis pride,
'Tis anything but thee;
Oh, deign a nobler pride to prove,
And pity if thou canst not love.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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There is a Gentle Thought
There is a gentle thought that often springs
to life in me, because it speaks of you.
Its reasoning about love’s so sweet and true,
the heart is conquered, and accepts these things.
‘Who is this’ the mind enquires of the heart,
‘who comes here to seduce our intellect?
Is his power so great we must reject
every other intellectual art?
The heart replies ‘O, meditative mind
this is love’s messenger and newly sent
to bring me all Love’s words and desires.
His life, and all the strength that he can find,
from her sweet eyes are mercifully lent,
who feels compassion for our inner fires.’
poem by Dante Alighieri
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Parted Presence
LOVE, I speak to your heart,
Your heart that is always here.
Oh draw me deep to its sphere,
Though you and I are apart,
And yield, by the spirit's art,
Each distant gift that is dear.
O love, my love, you are here!
Your eyes are afar to-day,
Yet, love, look now in mine eyes.
Two hearts sent forth may despise
All dead things by the way.
All between is decay,
Dead hours and this hour that dies.
O love, look deep in mine eyes!
Your hands to-day are not here,
Yet lay them, love, in my hands.
The hourglass sheds its sands
All day for the dead hours' bier;
But now, as two hearts draw near,
This hour like a flower expands.
O love, your hands in my hands!
Your voice is not on the air,
Yet, love, I can hear your voice:
It bids my heart to rejoice
As knowing your heart is there,—
A music sweet to declare
The truth of your steadfast choice.
O love, how sweet is your voice!
To-day your lips are afar,
Yet draw my lips to them, love.
Around, beneath, and above,
Is frost to bind and to bar;
But where I am and you are,
Desire and the fire thereof.
O kiss me, kiss me, my love!
Your heart is never away,
But ever with mine, for ever,
For ever without endeavour,
To-morrow, love, as to-day;
Two blent hearts never astray,
Two souls no power may sever,
Together, O my love, for ever!
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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An Ode : While Blooming Youth And Gay Delight
While blooming youth and gay delight
Sit on thy rosy cheeks confess'd,
Thou hast, my dear, undoubted right
To triumph o'er this destined breast.
My reason bends to what thy eyes ordain;
For I was born to love, and thou to reign.
But would you meanly thus rely
On power you know I must obey?
Exert a legal tyranny,
And do an ill because you may?
Still must I thee, as Atheists Heaven, adore;
Not see thy mercy, and yet dread thy power?
Take heed, my dear: youth flies apace;
As well as Cupid, Time is blind:
Soon must those glories of thy face
The fate of vulgar beauty find:
The thousand Loves, that arm thy potent eye,
Must drop their quivers, flag their wings, and die.
Then wilt thou sigh, when in each frown
A hateful wrinkle more appears:
And putting peevish humours on,
Seems but the sad effect of years:
Kindness itself too weak a charm will prove
To raise the feeble fires of aged love.
Forced compliments, and formal bows,
Will show thee just above neglect;
The heat with which thy lover glows,
Will settle into cold respect:
A talking dull Platonic I shall turn;
Learn to be civil, when I cease to burn.
Then, shun the ill, and know, my dear,
Kindness and constancy will prove
The only pillars, fit to bear
So vast a weight as that of love.
If thou canst wish to make my flames endure,
Thine must be very fierce, and very pure.
Haste, Celia, haste, while youth invites,
Obey kind Cupid's present voice;
Fill every sense with soft delights,
And give thy soul a loose to joys:
Let millions of repeated blisses prove
That thou all kindness art, and I all love.
Be mine, and only mine; take care
Thy looks, thy thoughts, thy dreams, to guide
To me alone; nor come so far,
As liking any youth beside:
What men e'er court thee, fly them, and believe
They're serpents all, and thou the tempted Eve.
So shall I court thy dearest truth,
When beauty ceases to engage;
So, thinking on thy charming youth,
I'll love it o'er again in age;
So time itself our raptures shall improve,
While still we wake to joy, and live to love.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Bitterness
The fires in her eyes tonight
Call forth the thought that they invite,
Though I remember, long ago
My absence seemed more apropos.
The smile that lingers on her lips
Says more than many verbal slips -
The time when it was somewhat grim
Is in the past and rather dim.
She flayed me once, no, more than twice
She flayed me both with flames and ice
And once again, ironically,
She primes me for catastrophe.
Those curious, nearby, just watch
Her try to cut a deeper notch.
But even they don't seem to know
The depths to which she'd really go.
Upon my face a smile appears
Which hides my thoughts and paints my sneers,
For now I too have learned the rules
From her - she was the best of schools.
Because I'm acting somewhat cool,
Thus pouring on her fires, fuel,
She burns and yearns and wants me more
Than when I was her cuspidor.
She doesn't know I'm not the same,
And plans to play her practiced game.
But when her teardrops start to swell,
Will she be proud she taught me well?
The others leave, I stay behind
(They all know what she has in mind)
And take her in my arms once more
Then slip her past the bedroom door.
She whispers secrets in my ear,
As I once did (she didn't hear):
I listen with a mirthless smile
While thinking of a desert isle.
The night is passed, her trusting grows,
I part before the morning glows.
Aroused, she'll seek a waking thrill
But find instead a dollar bill...
poem by Terry O'Leary
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Remind Me Not, Remind Me Not
Remind me not, remind me not,
Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,
When all my soul was given to thee;
Hours that may never be forgot,
Till Time unnerves our vital powers,
And thou and I shall cease to be.
Can I forget---canst thou forget,
When playing with thy golden hair,
How quick thy fluttering heart did move?
Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet,
With eyes so languid, breast so fair,
And lips, though silent, breathing love.
When thus reclining on my breast,
Those eyes threw back a glance so sweet,
As half reproach'd yet rais'd desire,
And still we near and nearer prest,
And still our glowing lips would meet,
As if in kisses to expire.
And then those pensive eyes would close,
And bid their lids each other seek,
Veiling the azure orbs below;
While their long lashes' darken'd gloss
Seem'd stealing o'er thy brilliant cheek,
Like raven's plumage smooth'd on snow.
I dreamt last night our love return'd,
And, sooth to say, that very dream
Was sweeter in its phantasy,
Than if for other hearts I burn'd,
For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam
In Rapture's wild reality.
Then tell me not, remind me not,
Of hours which, though for ever gone,
Can still a pleasing dream restore,
Till Thou and I shall be forgot,
And senseless, as the mouldering stone
Which tells that we shall be no more.
A Lyric
My lady love lives far away,
And oh my heart is sad by day,
And ah my tears fall fast by night,
What may I do in such a plight.
Why, miles grow few when love is fleet,
And love, you know, hath flying feet;
Break off thy sighs and witness this,
How poor a thing mere distance is.
My love knows not I love her so,
And would she scorn me, did she know?
How may the tale I would impart
Attract her ear and storm her heart?
Calm thou the tempest in my breast,
Who loves in silence loves the best,
But bide thy time, she will awake,
No night so dark but morn will break.
But though my heart so strongly yearn,
My lady loves me not in turn,
How may I win the blest reply
That my void heart shall satisfy.
Love breedeth love, be thou but true,
And soon thy love shall love thee, too;
If Fate hath meant you heart for heart,
There's naught may keep you twain apart.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Age Old Feelings
For this woman, his heart doth treasure
And in his soul, he will always treasure
In her heart, naught these feelings lay
But like a game, with him she'll play
Broken hearted, he cries heavy tears
Such tears had not been shed
For so long a time as to be forgot
Such a time he had such a thought
That a sacred love he would never find
And to said love, he would become blind
A fair young maiden in her tower sits
Between her heart and mind, she is split
Her mind demands she do what she must
Her heart to her mind may never trust
For her heart is where true love lies
Yet in her mind, that same love dies
How can love live and die at the same time?
It seems that thought would be known as crime
To her, True lover seems so far away
But in truth, that love will come one day
They met by chance, it seemed too late
But in his heart, it seemed like fate
She was so scared as was he
More in love, they could not be
But because the fear was combined with love
It did not seem it could last for long
They felt the joy but also the fear
He tried to help, she tried to hear
But she was too afraid to heed
So what he did was show her whats real
Not the things of want but that she was his only desire
Forsaking My Love
I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth
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poem by Michael Silver
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Licia Sonnets 05
Love with her hair my love by force hath tied,
To serve her lips, her eyes, her voice, her hand;
I smiled for joy, when I the boy espied
To lie unchained and live at her command.
She if she look, or kiss, or sing, or smile,
Cupid withal doth smile, doth sing, doth kiss,
Lips, hands, voice, eyes, all hearts that may beguile,
Because she scorns all hearts but only this.
Venus for this in pride began to frown
That Cupid, born a god, enthralled should be.
She in disdain her pretty son threw down,
And in his place, with love she chainéd me.
So now, sweet love, though I myself be thrall,
Not her a goddess, but thyself I call.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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SONNET. VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire
VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire,
Thou wer't a wonder past compare:
But frozen Love and fierce disdain
By their extremes thy graces stain.
Cold coyness quenches the still fires
Which glow in Lovers warm desires;
And scorn, like the quick Lightnings blaze,
Darts death against affections gaze.
O Heavens, what prodigy is this
When Love in Beauty buried is!
Or that dead pity thus should be
Tomb'd in a living cruelty.
poem by Henry King
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To Venus
Oh, fair sweet goddess, queen of love,
Soft and gentle as thy doves,
Humble-eyed, and ever ruing
Those poor hearts, their loves pursuing!
Oh, thou mother of delights,
Crowner of all happy nights,
Star of dear content and pleasure,
Of mutual loves and endless treasure!
Accept this sacrifice we bring,
Thou continual youth and spring;
Grant this lady her desires,
And every hour we'll crown thy fires
poem by John Fletcher
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Hebe
YOUTH! thou art a lovely time,
With thy wild and dreaming eyes;
Looking onwards to their prime,
Coloured by their April skies,
Yet I do not wish for thee,
Pass, oh! quickly pass from me.
Thou hast all too much unrest,
Haunted by vain hopes and fears;
Though thy cheeks with smiles be drest,
Yet that cheek is wet with tears.
Bitter are the frequent showers,
Falling in thy sunny hours.
Let my heart grow calm and cold,
Calm to sorrow, cold to love;
Let affections loose their hold,
Let my spirit look above.
I am weary—youth pass on.
All thy dearest gifts are gone.
She in whose sweet form the Greek
Bade his loveliest vision dwell;
She of yon bright cup and cheek,
From her native heaven fell:
Type of what may never last,
Soon the heaven of youth is past.
Oh! farewell—for never more
Can thy dreams again be mine;
Hope and truth and faith are o'er,
And the heart which was their shrine
Has no boon of thee to seek,
Asking but to rest or break.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Love Is My Love (an ode)
''Love'' is my love
So I love you, my love,
As love should love
But you, my love, never love me
As my love should love me.
You are such a terrific lovely sweetie
But you never give me a bit of your beauty
You are a lovely love every one loves to love
But I got jealousy, every one loves to hate me.
You are such a nectar, every one loves to suck
Every one loves to sip, you are such a honey!
But I got angry, you left me in the lurch very thirsty.
You are the dream, desire, freedom and fantasy
You make me slave and bounded me with harsh reality
Without you, I could have been a sick pervert very easily.
But I could not be, as my mind is strong and the morality.
The want of you is in me, but when I search you
You fling, I could not find you.
You are such a in-satiate entity
People love to love you from infinity to infinity
But I am here in my heart without you, empty.
I love my love
As love should love
But you never love me
As my love should love me.
As you have got colorful wings and fly
You never invite me, left me as a flower without butterfly.
You are the wish
You are the desire
Every one loves to fill with
But my heart pangs in despair.
Even if I close my eyes and shut my mind
My heart knows you come in as a rain
In the hearts of people but mine I find
In the desert under unbearable wreathing pain.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Tears & Fire
Blue is the tears in my eyes
Red is the fire in my heart
The fire will never die out
The fire in my heart is what keeps me alive
The tears in my eyes is what makes me die.
If i could control the tears in my eyes
The flames in my heart I would
My heart is like a hell
I am caged inside
I can't escape my self, there is still rage inside my heart
The tears are my hopes and dreams fading away
They are my strength
They are my thoughts that keep me from dying
The flames in my heart are the pain and guilt that builds up inside
poem by Crystal Woods
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It Is Not Beauty I Demand
It is not Beauty I demand,
A crystal brow, the moon's despair,
Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand,
Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair.
Tell me not of your starry eyes,
Your lips that seem on roses fed,
Your breasts where Cupid trembling lies,
Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed.
A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks,
Like Hebe's in her ruddiest hours,
A breath that softer music speaks
Than summer winds a-wooing flowers.
These are but gauds; nay, what are lips?
Coral beneath the ocean-stream,
Whose brink when your adventurer sips
Full oft he perisheth on them.
And what are cheeks but ensigns oft
That wave hot youth to fields of blood?
Did Helen's breast though ne'er so soft,
Do Greece or Ilium any good?
Eyes can with baleful ardor burn,
Poison can breath that erst perfumed,
There's many a white hand holds an urn
With lovers' hearts to dust consumed.
For crystal brows--there's naught within,
They are but empty cells for pride;
He who the Syren's hair would win
Is mostly strangled in the tide.
Give me, instead of beauty's bust,
A tender heart, a loyal mind,
Which with temptation I could trust,
Yet never linked with error find.
One in whose gentle bosom I
Could pour my secret heart of woes.
Like the care-burdened honey-fly
That hides his murmurs in the rose.
My earthly comforter! whose love
So indefeasible might be,
That when my spirit won above
Hers could not stay for sympathy.
poem by George Darley
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