To the Same
I WOULD I had thy courage, dear, to face
This bankruptcy of love, and greet despair
With smiling eyes and unconcerned embrace,
And these few words of banter at “dull care.”
I would that I could sing and comb my hair
Like thee the morning through, and choose my dress,
And gravely argue what I best should wear,
A shade of ribbon or a fold of lace.
I would I had thy courage and thy peace,
Peace passing understanding; that mine eyes
Could find forgetfulness like thine in sleep;
That all the past for me like thee could cease
And leave me cheerfully, sublimely wise,
Like David with washed face who ceased to weep.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Related quotes
On Her Lightheartedness
I WOULD I had thy courage, dear, to face
This bankruptcy of love, and greet despair
With smiling eyes and unconcerned embrace,
And these few words of banter at “dull care.”
I would that I could sing and comb my hair
Like thee the morning through, and choose my dress,
And gravely argue what I best should wear,
A shade of ribbon or a fold of lace.
I would I had thy courage and thy peace,
Peace passing understanding; that mine eyes
Could find forgetfulness like thine in sleep;
That all the past for me like thee could cease
And leave me cheerfully, sublimely wise,
Like David with washed face who ceased to weep.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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My Dear, Will You Pray With Me?
My Dear, My Darling
An arch of gold, and the glory of a Master's music
set against the azure, which falleth
into the multi-hued purple of eventide
when I love alone, and especially when I love thee, My Darling,
and kiss, kiss thee-embracing thee, my wife who is light
to my mind and eyes-and there in the azure-purple moment,
embracing thee, I find comfort in thine embrace from my sorrow:
for the world around me, and the raging people-they are as sheep,
untended and without a shepherd: and they refuse mercy and tending.
O Beloved Wife, My Dear: through thee and thy kisses and thine embrace
and the ecstasy of thy loving, exploding into a million
tiny island-universes within my body, heart and soul,
and thou creating God's heavenly infinity within me,
Kissed and complete; through these tendernesses,
the Lord God gives me His injection of Love and Peace-and so My Darling,
My Dear, when my weeping subsides to natural breath, and thou wipest away
the tear-stains from my face: My Darling, will you pray with me
for the sheep, untended and bedraggeled-that someone may comb
all the wool and tend their wounds which I could not, nor knew not how? Selah.
poem by John Stephen Reynolds
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Parting Address From Z.Z. To A.E.
O weep not, love! each tear that springs
In those dear eyes of thine,
To me a keener suffering brings
Than if they flowed from mine.
And do not droop! however drear
The fate awaiting thee.
For my sake, combat pain and care,
And cherish life for me!
I do not fear thy love will fail,
Thy faith is true I know;
But O! my love! thy strength is frail
For such a life of woe.
Were't not for this, I well could trace
(Though banished long from thee)
Life's rugged path, and boldly face
The storms that threaten me.
Fear not for me - I've steeled my mind
Sorrow and strife to greet,
Joy with my love I leave behind,
Care with my friends I meet.
A mother's sad reproachful eye,
A father's scowling brow
But he may frown, and she may sigh;
I will not break my vow!
I love my mother, I revere
My sire, but doubt not me.
Believe that Death alone can tear
This faithful heart from thee.
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet 65: Love By Sure Proof
Love by sure proof I may call thee unkind,
That giv'st no better ear to my just cries:
Thou whom to me such my good turns should bind,
As I may well recount, but none can prize:
For when, nak'd boy, thou couldst no harbor find
In this old world, grown now so too too wise,
I lodg'd thee in my heart, and being blind
Bu nature born, I gave to thee mine eyes.
Mine eyes, my light, my heart, my life alas,
If so great services may scorned be,
Yet let this thought thy tigrish courage pass:
That I perhaps am somewhat kin to thee,
Since in thine arms, if learn'd fame truth hath spread,
Thou bear'st the arrow, I the arrowhead.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Choriambics
Love, what ailed thee to leave life that was made lovely, we thought, with love?
What sweet visions of sleep lured thee away, down from the light above?
What strange faces of dreams, voices that called, hands that were raised to wave,
Lured or led thee, alas, out of the sun, down to the sunless grave?
Ah, thy luminous eyes! once was their light fed with the fire of day;
Now their shadowy lids cover them close, hush them and hide away.
Ah, thy snow-coloured hands! once were they chains, mighty to bind me fast;
Now no blood in them burns, mindless of love, senseless of passion past.
Ah, thy beautiful hair! so was it once braided for me, for me;
Now for death is it crowned, only for death, lover and lord of thee.
Sweet, the kisses of death set on thy lips, colder are they than mine;
Colder surely than past kisses that love poured for thy lips as wine.
Lov'st thou death? is his face fairer than love's, brighter to look upon?
Seest thou light in his eyes, light by which love's pales and is overshone?
Lo the roses of death, grey as the dust, chiller of leaf than snow!
Why let fall from thy hand love's that were thine, roses that loved thee so?
Large red lilies of love, sceptral and tall, lovely for eyes to see;
Thornless blossom of love, full of the sun, fruits that were reared for thee.
Now death's poppies alone circle thy hair, girdle thy breasts as white;
Bloodless blossoms of death, leaves that have sprung never against the light.
Nay then, sleep if thou wilt; love is content; what should he do to weep?
Sweet was love to thee once; now in thine eyes sweeter than love is sleep.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Mine Eyes Beg Sight Of Thee
Mine eyes beg sight of thee; mine mind begs, thought;
Mine heart begs consort with thee-for us to be what we ought;
Mine arms beg thine own body, in loving embrace-
Contrariwise, mine own body begs of same, face to face!
Mine own soul begs for thine, as its mate-
Our re-acquaintance made as was, through the powers of fate;
Mine whole life begs for thine own beauty's attestation:
As I bide still, I ruminate upon my futurity's celebration.
Until this time, when we shall meet my beloved, fair thee well:
May we both one day be the story that we lovingly tell.
All that I am begs for all that you are-
In a world with myriad resplendence, you are its brightest star!
Query not why it is that I covet thee as I do,
Ponder only: that in the morrow, more of same shall be gifted, to you!
poem by Maurice Harris
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Stanzas
Oh, weep not, love! each tear that springs
In those dear eyes of thine,
To me a keener suffering brings,
Than if they flowed from mine.
And do not droop! however drear
The fate awaiting thee;
For my sake combat pain and care,
And cherish life for me!
I do not fear thy love will fail;
Thy faith is true, I know;
But, oh, my love! thy strength is frail
For such a life of woe.
Were't not for this, I well could trace
(Though banished long from thee,)
Life's rugged path, and boldly face
The storms that threaten me.
Fear not for me - I've steeled my mind
Sorrow and strife to greet;
Joy with my love I leave behind,
Care with my friends I meet.
A mother's sad reproachful eye,
A father's scowling brow -
But he may frown and she may sigh:
I will not break my vow!
I love my mother, I revere
My sire, but fear not me
Believe that Death alone can tear
This faithful heart from thee.
poem by Anne Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Smiling Face
[V1]
Sitting on the bus
Looking through the window
And I close my eyes
I see the shade of your smiling face
Your smiling face
When you walk in through the door
Smiling face
Like I've never seen before
[V2]
Standing in the rain
Nearly washed the day away
Then I think of you
I know the sight of your smiling face
Your smiling face
And it's always here with me
Smiling face
Well I wonder could it be
[CHORUS]
I still know
That I'm never gonna find you
But I do believe
That you're standing right behind
Will I ever get
The answer to my question
Life will go on
song performed by by M2M from Shades Of Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low?
And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain.
My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
Wilt sigh above my place of rest.
And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
To know thy heart hath felt for mine.
Oh lady! blessd be that tear--
It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
To those whose eyes no tear may steep.
Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine.
Yet wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain.
And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low
And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
I would not give that bosom pain.
My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
Wilt sigh above my place of rest.
And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
To know thy heart hath felt for mine.
Oh lady! blessd be that tear---
It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
To those whose eyes no tear may steep.
Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine.
Yet wilt thou weep when I am low ?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
I would not give that bosom pain.
poem by Byron (1808)
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXX
THE RELIGION OF LOVE
So thou but love me, dear, with thy whole heart
What care I for the rest, for good or ill?
What for the peace of soul good deeds impart,
What for the tears unholy dreams distil?
These cannot make my joy, nor shall they kill.
Thou only perfect peace and virtue art
And holiness for me and strength and will,
So thou but love me with a perfect heart.
I ask thee now no longer to be wise;
No longer to be good, but loving me.
I ask thee nothing now but only this.
Henceforth my Bible, dear, shall be thine eyes,
My beads thy lips, my prayers thy constancy,
My heaven thine arms, eternity thy kiss.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Moon's Minion
Thine eyes are like the sea, my dear,
The wand'ring waters, green and grey;
Thine eyes are wonderful and clear,
And deep, and deadly, even as they;
The spirit of the changeful sea
Informs thine eyes at night and noon,
She sways the tides, and the heart of thee,
The mystic, sad, capricious Moon!
The Moon came down the shining stair
Of clouds that fleck the summer sky,
She kissed thee, saying, 'Child, be fair,
And madden men's hearts, even as I;
Thou shalt love all things strange and sweet,
That know me and are known of me;
The lover thou shalt never meet,
The land where thou shalt never be!'
She held thee in her chill embrace,
She kissed thee with cold lips divine,
She left her pallor on thy face,
That mystic ivory face of thine;
And now I sit beside thy feet,
And all my heart is far from thee,
Dreaming of her I shall not meet,
And of the land I shall not see!
poem by Andrew Lang
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To My Son
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue
Bright as thy mother’s in their hue;
Those rosy lips, whose dimples play
And smile to steal the heart away,
Recall a scene of former joy,
And touch thy father’s heart, my Boy!
And thou canst lisp a father’s name—
Ah, William, were thine own the same,—
No self-reproach—but, let me cease—
My care for thee shall purchase peace;
Thy mother’s shade shall smile in joy,
And pardon all the past, my Boy!
Her lowly grave the turf has prest,
And thou hast known a stranger’s breast;
Derision sneers upon thy birth,
And yields thee scarce a name on earth;
Yet shall not these one hope destroy,—
A Father’s heart is thine, my Boy!
Why, let the world unfeeling frown,
Must I fond Nature’s claims disown?
Ah, no—though moralists reprove,
I hail thee, dearest child of Love,
Fair cherub, pledge of youth and joy—
A Father guards thy birth, my Boy!
Oh,’twill be sweet in thee to trace,
Ere Age has wrinkled o’er my face,
Ere half my glass of life is run,
At once a brother and a son;
And all my wane of years employ
In justice done to thee, my Boy!
Although so young thy heedless sire,
Youth will not damp parental fire;
And, wert thou still less dear to me,
While Helen’s form revives in thee,
The breast, which beat to former joy,
Will ne’er desert its pledge, my Boy!
poem by Byron (1807)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hymn (Sacred Feast)
HAIL, sacred Feast, to weary mortals given,
Pledge of God's love! O Christ, we here adore
Thee, the slain Lamb, and Thee, the Bread from heaven—
Our life and peace, our joy for evermore.
Feed us, dear Lord, Thine own great love supplying
5
Our lack of faith, our need of every grace;
Dwell in us richly, till, on Thee relying,
We reach our home and see Thee face to face.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Stay With Me (o' Dear Heart Of Mine)
stay with me
o' dear heart
live with me
my soulheart
come with me
sit with me
talk with me
sing with me
dream with me
o' dear heart of mine
kneel with me
feel with me
smile a joy with me
pain a tear with me
frown with me
but come with me
and stay with thee
dance with me
chance with me
cleanse my heart
and stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
plan with me
journey with me
run with me
walk with me
o' dear heart of mine
brand with me
trend with me
trek with me
pray with me
thirst with me
quench with me
o' dear heart of mine
deal with me
seal with me
not steal with me
but steel with me
care with me
tenderly, humbly
o' dear heart of mine
friend with me
blend with me
mend with me
bend with me
nod with me
unto lord with me
come on board with me
o' dear heart of mine
fear not with me
as far as i see
a life to be
with you and me
o' dear heart of mine
corn with me
form with me
shape with me
tape with me
face with me
race with me
sense with me
nurse with me
o' dear heart of mine
nap with me
not a trap with me
this time
o' dear soul of mine
proud is me
rock with me
my heart
o' dear heart
of mine
map with me
wap with me
come with me
alone with me
stare with me
not to sick me
nor seek me
but stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
cross with me
boss with me
sail with me
rail with me
if i cry
cry with me
when i die
die with me
o' dear heart of mine
cold with me
fold with thee
rainbow with me
shine with me
rise with me
fall with me
stay with me
o' dear heart of mine
share
and care
with thee
o' dear heart of thine
**stay with me o' dear heart of mine** january 2012 ebook
(r) opn
(c) 09.01.2012
2159hrs
***ntema's unique poetry (nup)
(p) all rights of this piece are those of the poet.
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Good Night
1.
Love, thou hast wandered far and wide,
But here thy wanderings cease;
Thy long- sought mate is by thy side,
And thou canst sleep in peace.
2.
Night moans outside our window- pane,
And weeps from dripping eaves;
The air is thick with falling rain
Upon dead autumn leaves.
3.
The winds of winter rave and chafe
Around thy tranquil nest,
But I am here, and thou art safe —
Thy very soul may rest.
4.
The wild surf- thunder swells and falls
Upon the seething beach —
Thy world within thy chamber- walls
Nor winds nor waves can reach.
5.
Sleep, fired eyes! Sleep well, dear heart,
That ached so long for me!
No sudden hand shall tear apart
These arms that shelter thee
6.
Sleep well, though late- found joys be brief,
And bought with tears and pain;
Shut out the memory of thy grief —
Thou didst not grieve in vain.
7.
Think of our treasure, kept in store,
And not the price it cost —
Those precious years, that come no more,
Which thou and I have lost.
8.
O, wasted years, that lie behind
Hush — what is past is past.
Enough that we have lived to find
What life is worth at last.
9.
Though Fate has robbed us of so much,
We know not what we miss;
All ills are recompensed in such
A priceless good as this.
10.
Sleep,dear! The hours are passing on —
The midnight bells have tolled;
Think not how much of life is gone,
But how much more we hold.
11.
Yes, more — as wise men reckon life —
Though no wise man can tell
How soon, for husband and for wife,
The stroke of doom will knell.
12.
No echo of that solemn chime
Break through thy perfect peace!
No forecast of that awful time
When time for us will cease:
13.
When happier worlds shall shine in space,
For other eyes to see,
And none have any more a place
For thy true love and thee.
14.
Be blind to all, and deaf, and dumb,
In thy quick heart's despite!
Content thee — though the end must come,
It will not come to- night.
15.
This night let never thought of ill
Disturb thy slumber deep;
To- morrow I shall have thee still,
So thou canst safely sleep:
16.
Reprieved from that appalling fear,
As from thy long regret —
Be our last parting far or near,
We have not reached it yet.
17.
Thy head lies pillowed on my breast —
My cheek upon thy brow —
Dear love, good night! Thou art at rest
From Past and Future now.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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A Good Night
Close now thine eyes and rest secure;
Thy soul is safe enough, thy body sure;
He that loves thee, He that keeps
And guards thee, never slumbers, never sleeps.
The smiling conscience in a sleeping breast
Has only peace, has only rest;
The music and the mirth of kings
Are all but very discords, when she sings;
Then close thine eyes and rest secure;
No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.
poem by Francis Quarles
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To Anthea, Who May Command Him Any Thing
Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be;
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.
A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.
Bid that heart stay, and it will stay
To honour thy decree;
Or bid it languish quite away,
And't shall do so for thee.
Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see;
And having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.
Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree;
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en death, to die for thee.
--Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me;
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.
poem by Robert Herrick
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A Song
Sweet dreams, form a shade
O'er my lovely infant's head!
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy, silent, moony beams!
Sweet Sleep, with soft down
Weave thy brows an infant crown
Sweet Sleep, angel mild,
Hover o'er my happy child!
Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my delight!
Sweet smiles, mother's smile,
All the livelong night beguile.
Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
Sweet moan, sweeter smile,
All the dovelike moans beguile.
Sleep, sleep, happy child!
All creation slept and smiled.
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o'er thee doth mother weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace;
Sweet babe, once like thee
Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:
Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When He was an infant small.
Thou His image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee!
Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
Who became an infant small;
Infant smiles are his own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
poem by William Blake
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Sappho's Song
O cruel Love, on thee I lay
My curse, which shall strike blind the day ;
Never may sleep with velvet hand
Charm thine eyes with sacred wand ;
Thy jailors shall be hopes and fears ;
Thy prison-mates groans, sighs, and tears ;
Thy play to wear out weary times,
Fantastic passions, vows, and rimes ;
Thy bread be frowns ; thy drink be gall,
Such as when you Phao call ;
The bed thou liest on be despair,
Thy sleep fond dreams, thy dreams long care ;
Hope, like thy fool, at thy bed's head,
Mock thee, till madness strike thee dead,
As, Phao, thou dost me with thy proud eyes ;
In thee poor Sappho lives, for thee she dies.