Sonnet 132: Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain,
Have put on black, and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even
Doth half that glory to the sober west
As those two mourning eyes become thy face.
O, let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Related quotes
Scold me
Scold me for your eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing your heart torments me with deep disdain,
Have put on mocking mourners of nature to be,
Looking with pretty wrath upon my pains.
The morning sun of heaven knowing what my night been through
Better becomes the gray sobbing cheeks of the East,
And that full star that ushers in the heaven sees my day's blue
Loses half of its glory to the sober dark west,
And your two glorious eyes embedded in such complexion face:
Will there be some pity there for me to beseem your heart that I adore
To mourn for me and torture and despise me no more,
Since even mourning does your beauty grace
Oh, fair creature of the field let me speak and your heart yields
I would my rude words had the influnce without offence or guilt
To lead your thoughts as your fair looks do mine
Then my world would never known a brighter sun shine
God knows I cannot force love as you do upon me
My words will be for sooth and spotless as my youth
A dimond set in lead will reatin its worth and its truth
Though I am base in respect to thee
Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved
Black
Black is thy thought, doth blacken thy name
Slandered beauty
So black is thy shame
Black is thy pupil doth blacken thy mood
Tortured beauty
So black when thy brood
Black is thy heart doth blacken thy tears
Sorrowful beauty
So black is thy fears
Black is thy skin doth blacken within
Black beauty
So black is thy sin
Black is thy hair doth blacken thy shawl
Despair beauty
So black is the abyss as thy beauty fall…..
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet Cycle to M C after W S Sonnets CXXXI - CXXXIX
Sonnet Cycle to M C after William Shakespeare Sonnets CXXXI - CLIV
[c] Jonathan Robin
CARE IS OUR DREAM
Sonnet Cycle after William Shakespeare: Part II
Sonnets CXXXI - CLIV
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXI
Thou art so tyrannous, so as thou art,
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;
For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan;
To say they err I dare not be so bold,
Although I swear it to myself alone.
And to be sure that is not false, I swear,
A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,
One on another's neck, do witness bear
Thy black is fairest in my judgement's place.
In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,
And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.
Sonnet CXXXI
Swift in succession fleet speed thoughts when I
Allow time to rhyme contemplating smile.
Nefertiti resignèdly would cry
Grieving 'Quits' obliged to reconcile
To defeat, a feat none else dare try.
Outer skin and inner heart worthwhile
Most naturally ally I testify,
Adopt love’s truth to heart, scorn art and style.
Millions shudder – to your rank unworthy -
Aware all their priorities weigh zilch,
Understatements glib by small minds scurvy,
Deprived of value still your fame they’d filch.
Enshadowed, dark, stark dead their teeming dreams
Compelled to spell fell shutters, failing themes.
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXII
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
Have put on black and ivory mourner she,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even,
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O! let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
Sonnet CXXXII
Soft eyes I worship, may yours pity me,
Although tormenting through torn heart's disdain,
Neglecting one who weeps, - deep mourning see, -
Grieving, keeping track of black wracked pain.
The East’s dawn sun no tithe has of your glory
Oft surpassing sunburst’s jealous blush,
Morning star's unequal to your story -
As all aver, - West's claim to fame must hush.
Mourning sun’s eclipsed by rising star
Aphrodite, Venus, put to shame,
Unequivocally eclipsed by power:
Dual beams stream, flooding out all blame.
Elder Time meets peer, stopped in its track,
Compared, no star can fail to fail, worth lack,
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXIII
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
Is't not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next self thou harder hast engross'd:
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;
A torment thrice threefold thus to be crossed.
Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;
Thou canst not then use rigour in my jail:
And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.
Sonnet CXXXIII
Stolen from myself, in jail I lie,
Ail, tenfold tortured, wounded to the quick,
Now would tormented heart for bail apply,
Grave wounded slave, lost freedom, soul too sick.
Though many seek respect, to few 'tis due,
On this I dwell, who, puppet on a string,
Myself no longer know, owe all to you,
As prisoner here I suffer triple sting.
My heart’s in jail entrusted to your charge
Applied for bail, but locked prefers to stay,
Unshackled, handcuffed, I’d not stray, at large,
Define as liberation dungeon grey.
Emotion’s motions ribcage rage heart’s gaol,
Call world as witness, all mine’s yours sans fail.
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXIV
So have I now confessed that he is thine,
And I myself am mortgaged to thy will,
Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still:
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,
For thou art covetous and he is kind;
He learned but surety-like to write for me,
Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.
The statue of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,
And sue a friend came debtor for my sake;
So him I lose through my unkind abuse.
Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me:
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
Sonnet CXXXIV
Servant to you stays Cupid I’ll admit,
And I to both am mortgaged to the hilt,
Now sacrifice of one to t’other wilt
Grant respite to most others bit by bit.
To me however both in heart sit, fit
One spirit, hat to wear till oceans silt
Must it by time and in time filled while wilt
Abysmal all ignorant of your writ.
Medused is stone which, through your beauty, moves:
A role-reversal signal signal sent
Unbalancing all preconceptions’ grooves,
Debtors contribute fresh credit lent.
Exit Cupid, in fee I’d still stay free,
Claim from sensations sweet heart’s symphony.
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXV
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will, '
And 'Will! to boot, and 'Will' in over-plus;
More than enough am I that vexed thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no faire acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in 'Will' add to thy 'Will'
One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more.
Let no unkind 'No' fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will';
Sonnet CXXXV
Sweet fair my will will hold, so fare you well
As, willing, I am overwhelmed to boot,
Nor once compute that I could e’er reboot,
Guess template less than perfect in its spell.
Thus wilful soul to one sole seeks to tell
One telling secret Intel can’t dispute
Meagre welcome at your hands can’t suit
Accepting not, rejecting knot as well.
Melting ice from global warming add
Abundant rain to ocean water store,
Use thus these words to make yourself more glad,
Draw from their corps to reinforce your core.
Expel none who to port of call would venture,
Case pleading, one [f]or [f]all a_void all censure.
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXV
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will, '
And 'Will! to boot, and 'Will' in over-plus;
More than enough am I that vexed thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no faire acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in 'Will' add to thy 'Will'
One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more.
Let no unkind 'No' fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will';
Sonnet CXXXV BIS
Some find, in seeking, pleasure undefined,
And, finding, founder, treasured hopes unfound,
Nor do they measure pleasure, often bind
Gangrene into warp and weft unsound.
Terrifying the distress assigned
Once vain, hellbound, found echoes hope would sound.
Meagre treasure, pleasure’s s[h]own haste fined
Asserting admiration on rebound.
My loyalty needs no deed legal signed,
A paper pledge: one soul heart, head [t]win-bound.
Unswerving fealty, intense and kind,
Deep trust bestows, deserves to break new ground.
Entoning 'An die Freude' celebrate,
Contest my mettle not, nor nettle merit great.
Shakespeare Sonnet
If thy soul check thee that I come so near,
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will',
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love,
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove
Among a number one is reckoned none:
Then in the number let me pass untold,
Though in thy stores' account I one must be;
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:
Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will'.
Sonnet CXXXVI
Severed from all but vocal echo, I
Attempt to build me chateaux in the air.
Now should the castles tall fall from the sky,
Great sorrow, woe tsunami, would despair.
Too many risks with one, myself, I take,
Open doors, where walls stood in the past,
Miserable the grief should heart mistake -
Appreciate ill stakes of soul outcast.
Many seek attention, body, mind,
Admit are your’s to order and command,
Unnoticed though I be, don’t leave behind
Dreams which, when near to you, are dearly fanned.
Emphatically adored – this should suffice:
Can one ask more for love outpoured scores twice.
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXVII
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,
Be anchored in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood has thou forgèd hooks,
Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot
Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?
Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not,
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,
And to this false plague are they now transferred.
Sonnet CXXXVII
Sweet Cupid, what's this trick played on my eyes?
Apart from One none may they recognise!
Nations rise and fall, but Beauty's thrall
Gainst doubt holds out, throughout flouts, routs Time's squall.
This inclination energy supplies, -
One moment burns, then freezes lover's sighs,
My breast can’t quit, nor pant leave rest withal, -
As even dreams, it seems, with love play ball.
My bonds, restrictions ease, don't tease, heed cries,
Alas free me forthwith, don’t improvise,
Unjustifiably let aims’ flames fall,
Despondent shadows mocking heartfelt thrall.
Eyes twain when hearts explain, remove false fog,
Construe need’s plague, Life’s wheel, and I small cog.
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXVIII
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O! love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flattered be.
Sonnet CXXXVIII
Should she swear she be one with Time and Truth,
Although she lies each vowel I’ll believe.
No matter if, naïve, at heart a youth,
Greet I with grief’s relief each web she’d weave.
Testifying to her spell I've shed
Old age - long years which wrinkled ring by ring,
Mixed silver thread to gold turns back, the head
A tune enchanted sings - spells none else bring.
My answer crystal clear appears, heart burns:
Although, in love, age hates have years told,
Unjust discrepancy – Time ne’er returns -
Denied seem karmic wheels new act unfold.
E’er I’d in her identify shared tie,
Convinced my faults in vaults forgotten lie.
Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXIX
O! call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue:
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:
What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy might
Is more than my o'erpressed defence can hide?
Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been my enemies;
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.
Sonnet CXXXIX
Say love is owed another if you can,
Abjuring love which might be ever shared,
No love like mine could shine which, unprepared,
Gears up the very fires they privy fan.
Tell love elsewhere is sought, not in my sight,
O call not me to justify that wrong,
Might you so do with cunning or with might,
As true heart feels not wounds of steel or tongue.
Mistress, Love's an open book, you know
Amor omnia vincit, foes defeats,
Unthreads threats where chance glance turns friend to foe,
Dart turns attention, saves from harm, deceits.
Execute or heal, just one word might
Convict or free: release? seal, sink from sight?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sonnet 7: When Nature
When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes,
In color black why wrapp'd she beams so bright?
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre, mix'd of shades and light?
Or did she else that sober hue devise,
In object best to knit and strength our sight,
Lest if no veil those brave gleams did disguise,
They sun-like should more dazzle than delight?
Or would she her miraculous power show,
That whereas black seems Beauty's contrary,
She even if black doth make all beauties flow?
Both so and thus, she minding Love shoud be
Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed,
To honor all their deaths, who for her bleed.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet VII: When Nature
When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes,
In color black why wrapp'd she beams so bright?
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre, mix'd of shades and light?
Or did she else that sober hue devise,
In object best to knit and strength our sight,
Lest if no veil those brave gleams did disguise,
They sun-like should more dazzle than delight?
Or would she her miraculous power show,
That whereas black seems Beauty's contrary,
She even if black doth make all beauties flow?
Both so and thus, she minding Love shoud be
Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed,
To honor all their deaths, who for her bleed.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Astrophel and Stella VII: WhenNature Made her Chief Work
When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes,
In colour black why wrapt she beams so bright?
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre, mix'd of shades and light?
Or did she else that sober hue devise,
In object best to knit and strength our sight;
Lest, if no veil these brave gleams did disguise,
They, sunlike, should more dazzle than delight?
Or would she her miraculous power show,
That, whereas black seems beauty's contrary,
She even in black doth make all beauties flow?
Both so, and thus,--she, minding Love should be
Plac'd ever there, gave him this mourning weed
To honour all their deaths who for her bleed.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Phillis II
Love guards the roses of thy lips
And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.
Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And if I look the boy will lower,
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.
Love works thy heart within his fire,
And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
And of my plaints doth make a game.
Love, let me cull her choicest flowers;
And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers
Then will I praise thy deity.
But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.
poem by Thomas Lodge
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Phillis 02
LOVE guards the roses of thy lips
And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.
Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And if I look the boy will lower,
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.
Love works thy heart within his fire,
And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
And of my plaints doth make a game.
Love, let me cull her choicest flowers;
And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers
Then will I praise thy deity.
But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.
poem by Thomas Lodge
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Thine Beauty
I bath myself with thy beauty thine
To conceal myself under thee
Warm flesh molded from beauty divine
Solaces pain that inhabits me
I live for you to live free
Gracious, graceful thy sweetly give
All thine love to live in me
By thine beauty with beauty does my love live
So if thou love me like thou say
Thou know that it's thee
That thy beauty and love doth play
In you and in me
Reflecting always in each other's mind
Thine beauty and love, we doth always find…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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To thy heart so sweetly its wrong..
To a memory of happiness thine heart doth yield
Rousing thine sweet face to be kissed by love first
Dreamy thy power behind thy strength's shield
Drinking the dreams of love, thine soul doth thirst
For the love that did first make thee
Is the love thy face doth subtly gleam
Into the springs of thy soul's glee
Wert thy past love reflect and thy heart beam
But thy love is in thy dreams, now thy love not
Rejected and abandoned to thy only love thou hope
As loneliness and despair forge a their Gordian knot
Around thy heart, thy still dream for love to cope
For the love which is lost in thy memory song
Unconsciously playing to thy heart so sweetly its wrong..
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Phillis 2
LOVE guards the roses of thy lips
And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.
Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And if I look the boy will lower,
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.
Love works thy heart within his fire,
And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
And of my plaints doth make a game.
Love, let me cull her choicest flowers;
And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers
Then will I praise thy deity.
But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.
poem by Thomas Lodge
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Sonnet 46
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,
A closet never pierced with crystal eyes,
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
To 'cide this title is impannelled
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;
And by their verdict is determined
The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part:
As thus: mine eye's due is thine outward part,
And my heart's right, thine inward love of heart.
poem by William Shakespeare from Sonnets (1609)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sonnet XXII: Come Time
Come Time, the anchor-hold of my desire,
My last resort whereto my hopes appeal,
Cause once the date of her disdain t'expire;
Make her the sentence of her wrath repeal.
Rob her fair Brow, break in on Beauty, steal
Power from those eyes, which pity cannot spare;
Deal with those dainty cheeks as she doth deal
With this poor heart consumed with despair;
This heart made now the prospective of care,
By loving her, the cruelst Fair that lives,
The cruelst Fair that sees I pine for her,
And never mercy to my merit gives.
Let her not still triumph over the prize
Of mine affections taken by her eyes.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Sonnet XXI
WAs it the worke of nature or of Art?
which tempred so the feature of her face:
that pride and meeknesse mixt by equall part,
doe both appeare t'adorne her beauties grace.
For with mild pleasance, which doth pride displace,
she to her loues doth lookers eyes allure:
& with sterne countenance back again doth chace
their looser lookes that stir vp lustes impure,
With such strange termes her eyes she doth inure,
that with one looke she doth my life dismay:
and with another doth it streight recure,
her smile me drawes, her frowne me driues away.
Thus doth she traine and teach me with her lookes,
such art of eyes I neuer read in bookes.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Sonnet 22: My glass shall not persuade me I am old
My glass shall not persuade me I am old
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee Time's furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.
For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me.
How can I then be elder than thou art?
O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary
As I not for myself, but for thee will,
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
Thou gav'st me thine, not to give back again.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet (II)
O
Sure Lord, there is enough in thee to dry
Oceans of Ink ; for, as the Deluge did
Cover the Earth, so doth thy Majesty :
Each Cloud distills thy praise, and doth forbid
Poets to turn it to another use.
Roses and Lillies speak thee ; and to make
A pair of Cheeks of them, is thy abuse.
Why should I Womens eyes for Chrystal take?
Such poor invention burns in their low mind,
Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go
To praise, and on thee Lord, some Ink bestow.
Open the bones, and you shall nothing find
In the best face but filth, when Lord, in thee
The beauty lies, in the discovery
poem by George Herbert
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Beautiful Breast
Dainty, delicate and delicious doth meet
On thine breast tender, mild and sweet
Beauty in thy heart veiled by a beauteous breast
Seizes mine sight and mine heart arrest
Thou art a manifestation of tranquil beauty
Nurturing life, possessing love's duty
Enticingly sweet thy gravitate to me
With all love's passion glistening on the breast of thee
Thou kiss mine lips with thine tender breast
And I doth taste thy flesh while thine heart caress
Mine heart too, wert love in us doth meet
On thine tender, mild breast, lovely and sweet
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Wonder I Now See
I do felicitously ponder our life's sequel;
As your's is a beauty truly without equal,
The brightest stars pale when comparison is made:
Their grandeur and brilliance doth seem to fade!
Yet, all too doth seem still more beauteous,
To thee and thine own grace, I remain duteous:
To consort with thee, all, I would proffer
For its guard, abiding, in my heart, I would coffer!
The ordinary is made to inspire awe,
The imperfect, now seen without flaw-
The unsightly, now seen with new eyes:
That not noticed before, I now prize!
All owed to thee, the wonder I now see,
That thought unattainable, may now be!
Maurice Harris,24 August 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
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Ode to the dragon
I was inspired to express my love for dragons in old-English.
This ode which is called an irregular ode glorifies the dragon.
In Asiatic cultures, dragons are worshiped for their wisdom and longevity.
Though thy teeth be sharp, and thy claws great, waste not thy strength on me,
for thy beauty doth pierce mine heart worse than any wound.
Do not waste thy breath upon me, for I burn already a passion far greater than I can bear.
Oh dragon, hold back not thine beauty from mine eyes any longer, spread thy wings for me, let me see thy grace, thy majesty, thy glory complete!
Though thy scales turn away the sword, they can not turn away my love for thee.
Though thy wings block the sun, they can not block mine thoughts so bright of thee.
Though thy eyes stare death, I...only have eyes... for thee.
(3: 23 AM.01,23,10)
poem by Jacob Ellinger
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To Nannette Falk-Auerbach
Oft as I hear thee, wrapt in heavenly art,
The massive message of Beethoven tell
With thy ten fingers to the people's heart
As if ten tongues told news of heaven and hell, --
Gazing on thee, I mark that not alone,
Ah, not alone, thou sittest: there, by thee,
Beethoven's self, dear living lord of tone,
Doth stand and smile upon thy mastery.
Full fain and fatherly his great eyes glow:
He says, "From Heaven, my child, I heard thee call
(For, where an artist plays, the sky is low):
Yea, since my lonesome life did lack love's all,
In death, God gives me thee: thus, quit of pain,
Daughter, Nannette! in thee I live again."
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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