To His Mistresse
In your sterne beauty I can see
Whatere in Aetna wonders bee;
If coales out of the topp doe flye
Hott flames doe gush out of your eye;
If frost lye on the ground belowe
Your breast is white and cold as snowe:
The sparkes that sett my hart on fire
Refuse to melt your owne desire:
The frost that byndes your chilly breast
With double fire hath mee opprest:
Both heate and cold a league have made,
And leaving you they mee invade:
The hearth its proper flame withstands
When ice itselfe heates others hands.
poem by William Strode
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Related quotes
Fiery Love
I stare into the fire
it signifies my desire
leaping creeping and all red flames,
fire,
and its beauty hypnotizing,
fire
and its flames uprising.
sparks showering in the night,
feeding fires of lesser might,
fire feeding on life and air,
fire that lays landscapes bare,
fire that warms the heart and soul,
fire that drives away the cold,
fire thats as hot as the heat within,
fire that seeks to erase my sin,
fire promises of days to come,
fire that will unite us as one,
and then I pray for the same desire
will sometimes too ignite your fire,
two lovers burning
consumed with flames,
the ashes of their love
ignite again and again
poem by Arti Chopra
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Hanover Winter Song
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes, pass the bowl.
Ho, a song by the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes with a skoal,
For the wolf-wind is wailing at the doorways,
And the snow drifts deep along the road,
And the ice gnomes are marching from their Norways,
And the great white cold walks abroad.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes, pass the bowl.
Pile the logs on the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes with a skoal,
For the fire goblins flicker on the ceiling,
And the wine witch glitters in the glass,
And the smoke wraiths are drifting, curling, reeling,
And the sleigh bells jingle as they pass.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes, drain the bowl.
Oh, a God is the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes with a skoal,
For the room has a spirit in the embers,
Tis a God and our fathers knew his name,
And they worship'd him in long-forgot Decembers,
And their hearts leap'd high with the flame.
poem by Richard Hovey
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Having Lost My Sons, I Confront the Wreckage of the Moon: Christmas, 1960
After dark
Near the South Dakota border,
The moon is out hunting, everywhere,
Delivering fire,
And walking down hallways
Of a diamond.
Behind a tree,
It ights on the ruins
Of a white city
Frost, frost.
Where are they gone
Who lived there?
Bundled away under wings
And dark faces.
I am sick
Of it, and I go on
Living, alone, alone,
Past the charred silos, past the hidden graves
Of Chippewas and Norwegians.
This cold winter
Moon spills the inhuman fire
Of jewels
Into my hands.
Dead riches, dead hands, the moon
Darkens,
And I am lost in the beautiful white ruins
Of America.
poem by James Arlington Wright
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Preparatory Meditations - First Series: 1
What love is this of Thine that cannot be
In Thine infinity, O Lord, confined,
Unless it in Thy very person see
Infinity and finity conjoined?
What hath Thy godhead, as not satisfied,
Married our manhood, making it its bride?
Oh matchless love! Filling heaven to the brim!
O'errunning it: all running o'er beside
This world! Nay, overflowing hell; wherein
For Thine elect there rose a mighty tide!
That there our veins might through Thy person bleed,
To quench those flames that else would on us feed.
Oh! that Thy love might overflow my heart!
To fire the same with love: for love I would.
But oh! my straitened breast! my lifeless spark!
My fireless flame! What chilly love, and cold?
In measure small! In manner chilly! See.
Lord, blow the coal: Thy love enflame in me.
poem by Edward Taylor
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The Glance
Cold Virtue guard me, or I shall endure
From the next glance a double calenture
Of fire and lust! Two flames, two Semeles,
Dwell in those eyes, whose looser glowing rays
Would thaw the frozen Russian into lust,
And parch tile negro's hotter blood to dust.
Dart not your bllls of wild-fire here; go throw
Those flakes upon the eunuch's colder snow,
Till he in active blood do boil as high
As he that made him so in jealousy.
When that loose queen of love did dress her eyes
In the most taking flame to the prize
At Ida; that faint glare to this desire
Burnt like a taper to the zone of fire:
And could she then the lustful youth have crowned
With thee his Helen, Troy had never found
Her fate in Sinon's fire; thy hotter eyes
Had made it burn a quicker sacrifice
To lust, whilst every glance in subtle wiles
Had shot itself like lightning through the piles.
Go blow upon some equal blood, and let
Earth's hotter ray engender and beget
New flames to dress the aged Paphians' quire,
And lend the world new Cupids borne on fire.
Dart no more here, those flatmes, nor strive to throw
Your fire on him who is immured in snow!
Those glances work on me like the weak shine
The frosty sun throws on the Appenine,
When the hill's active coldness doth go near
To freeze the glimmering taper to his sphere:
Each ray is lost on me, like the faint light
The glow-worm shoots at the cold breast of night.
Thus virtue can secure; but for that name
I had been now sin's martyr, and your flame.
poem by Francis Beaumont
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What The Captain Said
They made the fire so they want it to spread
the fire, the fire, the fire
They fan the flame to the forest bed
and the flames grew
higher, and higher, and higher
Remember what the captain said by the oceanside
where we took our ride
'We want no more soldiers dead, so come see us by the fire; '
Prometheus desire, the fire
by the fire, as the flames grow higher
We lay upon our riverbed, upon the Styx
the mosh pit Styx upon the pyre
Eyes wide, quartered dry, heads to the sky
and they watch the flames grow higher, and higher,
the fire
poem by Jay Bradley
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In Cypres Springes, Wheras Dame Venus Dwelt
In Cypres springes, wheras dame Venus dwelt,
A well so hote that who so tastes the same,
Were he of stone, as thawed yse shuld melt,
And kindled fynde his brest with secret flame;
Whose moist poison dissolved hath my hate.
This creping fier my cold lymms so oprest
That in the hart that harbred fredom late
Endles dispaire long thraldom hath imprest.
One eke so cold in froson snow is found,
Whose chilling venume of repugnaunt kind
The fervent heat doth quenche of Cupides wound,
And with the spote of change infects the mynd;
Whereof my deer hath tasted to my payne.
My service thus is growne into disdayne.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
Complaint of the louer disdained
In Ciprus, springes (whereas dame Venus dwelt)
A well so hote, that whoso tastes the same,
Were he of stone, as thawed yse should melt,
And kindled fynde his brest with fired flame.
Whose moyst poyson dissolued hath my hate.
This creeping fire my colde lims so opprest,
That in the hart that harborde freedome late,
Endlesse despeyre longe thraldome hath imprest.
An other so colde in frozen yse is founde,
Whose chilling venom of repugnant kynde
The feruent heat doth quenche of Cupides wounde:
And with the spot of change infectes the minde:
Whereof my dere hath tasted, to my paine.
My seruice thus is growen into disdaine.
poem by Henry Howard
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In Tempore Senectutis
When I am old
I will not have you look apart
From me, into the cold,
Friend of my heart,
Nor be sad in your remembrance
Of the careless, mad-heart semblance
That the wind hath blown away
When I am old.
When I am old
And the white hot wonder-fire
Unto the world seem cold,
My soul's desire
Know you then that all life's shower,
The rain of the years, that hour
Shall make blow for us one flower,
Including all, when we are old.
When I am old
If you remember
Any love save what is then
Hearth light unto life's December
Be your joy of past sweet chalices
To know then naught but this
"How many wonders are less sweet
Than love I bear to thee
When I am old."
poem by Ezra Pound
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To A Gentlewoman For A Friend
No marvell if the Sunne's bright eye
Shower downe hott flames; that qualitie
Still waytes on light; but when wee see
Those sparkling balles of ebony
Distil such heat, the gazer straight
Stands so amazed at the sight
As when the lightning makes a breach
Through pitchie clouds: can lightning reach
The marrowe hurting not the skynne?
Your eyes to me the same have byn;
Can jett invite the loving strawe
With secrett fire? so those can draw,
And can, where ere they glance a dart,
Make stubble of the strongest hart.
Oft when I looke I may descry
A little face peep through your eye;
Sure 'tis the boy, who wisely chose
His throne among such rayes as those,
Which, if his quiver chance to fail,
May serve for darts to kill withal:
If to such powerful shafts I yeild,
If with so many wounds I bleed,
Think me noe coward, though I lye
Thus prostrate with your charming eye:
Did I say but your eye? I sweare
Death's in your beauty everywhere.
Your waxen hands when I recall,
Your lily breasts, their melting vale,
Your damaske cheeks, your lilly skynne,
Your corral lipp and dainty chynne,
Your shining locks and amber breath,
All pleasing instruments of death,
Your eye may spare itselfe: mine owne
When all your parts are duly knowne
From any part may fetch a dart
To wound itselfe. Kill not my hart,
By saying that I will dispise
The parentage from which you rise:
I know it well, and likewise knowe
That I my myselfe my breath doe owe
To Woolsey's roofe, and can it bee
I should disdayne your pedigree?
Or is your Sire a butcher found?
The fitter you to make a wound;
Wound mee againe and more and more,
So you againe will mee restore,
But if resemblance tell the father
I think hee was an Angell rather.
poem by William Strode
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Description Of The Restless State Of A Lover.
WHEN youth had led me half the race
That Cupid's scourge had made me run ;
I looked back to mete the place
From whence my weary course begun.
And then I saw how my desire
By guiding ill had led the way :
Mine eyen, to greedy of their hire,
Had made me lose a better prey.
For when in sighs I spent the day,
And could not cloak my grief with game ;
The boiling smoke did still bewray
The present heat of secret flame.
And when salt tears do bain my breast,
Where Love his pleasant trains hath sown ;
Her beauty hath the fruits opprest,
Ere that the buds were sprung and blown.
And when mine eyen did still pursue
The flying chase of their request ;
Their greedy looks did oft renew
The hidden wound within my breast.
When every look these cheeks might stain,
From deadly pale to glowing red ;
By outward signs appeared plain,
To her for help my heart was fled.
But all too late Love learneth me
To paint all kind of colours new ;
To blind their eyes that else should see
My speckled cheeks with Cupid's hue.
And now the covert breast I claim,
That worshipp'd Cupid secretely ;
And nourished his sacred flame,
From whence no blazing sparks do fly.
poem by Henry Howard
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Hot Burning Flames
She left me almost burned out
I couldn't feel a thin'
A walkin' talkin' statue
Afraid to love again
She did everything to kill a flame
But a little spark got through
If she'd a got her way I'd be gone today
If it hadn't been for you
You turned cold gray ashes into hot burning flames
I'm alive with love because of you
When you came to light the fire you knew just what to bring
You turned cold gray ashes into hot burning flames
--- Instrumental ---
She thought she had me down and out
But at the count of nine
A livin' lovin' angel showed up just in time
She thought that I would surely die
Sometimes I wanted to
She had no doubt the fire was out
But she didn't count on you
You turned cold gray ashes into hot burning flames
I'm alive with love because of you
When you came to light the fire you knew just what to bring
You turned cold gray ashes into hot burning flames
You turned cold gray ashes into hot burning flames
I'm alive with love because of you
When you came to light the fire you knew just what to bring
You turned cold gray ashes into hot burnin' flames
You turned cold gray ashes into hot burnin' flames...
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hearts On Fire
We saw the writings on the wall
When heathens ruled above us all
Tormented, we still heard the call
You come to bring us down
Wield the scepter, steal the crown
Time on the throne is running out
Cause seasons change but we are still the same
Event though the cold winds blow were burning like a flame
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Hearts On Fire
For years shunned by society
Outcasts, condemned for our beliefs
Our legions grew in secrecy
And now, the time is here
I see the Templars everywhere
The Freedom Call is drawing near
We hold our rebel banners up with pride
The colours crimson and the Hammer is the sign
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Solo: Stefan
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melt The Guns
(andy partridge)
Programmes of violence,
As entertainment,
Brings the disease into your room.
We know the germ,
Which is man-made in metal,
Is really a key to your own tomb.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Children will want them,
Mothers supply them,
As long as your killers are heroes.
And all the media
Will fiddle while rome burns,
Acting like modern-time neros.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Im speaking to the justice league of america.
The u s of a,
Hey you,
Yes you in particular!
When it comes to the judgement day and youre standing at the gates with your weaponry,
You dead go down on one knee,
Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,
cos we say...
Our father weve managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,
Lets hope they shoot themselves instead of others,
Help to civilize the race now.
Weve trapped the cause of the plague,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.
If we listen quietly we can hear them shooting from grave to grave.
You ought to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melt The Guns
(andy partridge)
Programmes of violence,
As entertainment,
Brings the disease into your room.
We know the germ,
Which is man-made in metal,
Is really a key to your own tomb.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Children will want them,
Mothers supply them,
As long as your killers are heroes.
And all the media
Will fiddle while rome burns,
Acting like modern-time neros.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Im speaking to the justice league of america.
The u s of a,
Hey you,
Yes you in particular!
When it comes to the judgement day and youre standing at the gates with your weaponry,
You dead go down on one knee,
Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,
cos we say...
Our father weve managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,
Lets hope they shoot themselves instead of others,
Help to civilize the race now.
Weve trapped the cause of the plague,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.
If we listen quietly we can hear them shooting from grave to grave.
You ought to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Cold Winter's Day
The weather cold and overcast in the middle of July
And cold jack frost blows with his chilly breath across the Winter sky
And in Kyneton, Trentham and Daylesford they have had a fall of snow
And the temperatures at zero and the weather glass is low
From Spring through Summer to late Fall the weather warm and dry
And for days on end the sun was burning in the clear blue sky
But the rain and snow is needed now and people pray for more
For the paddocks at this time of year never dry as this before
Yet today I saw a magpie despite the Wintery chill
Fly from the ground to a tall gum tree with a twig in his bill
For to build a nest an early sign of the approach of Spring
Of late in the darkness of the night I hear his kin bird sing
In parts of Central Victoria it is snowing, cattle bellowing for hay
And the cold breath of jack frost in the wind it has been a chilly day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Troy Town
HEAVENBORN Helen, Sparta's queen,
(O Troy Town!)
Had two breasts of heavenly sheen,
The sun and moon of the heart's desire:
All Love's lordship lay between.
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Helen knelt at Venus' shrine,
(O Troy Town!)
Saying, “A little gift is mine,
A little gift for a heart's desire.
Hear me speak and make me a sign!
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“Look, I bring thee a carven cup;
(O Troy Town!)
See it here as I hold it up,—
Shaped it is to the heart's desire,
Fit to fill when the gods would sup.
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“It was moulded like my breast;
(O Troy Town!)
He that sees it may not rest,
Rest at all for his heart's desire.
O give ear to my heart's behest!
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“See my breast, how like it is;
(O Troy Town!)
See it bare for the air to kiss!
Is the cup to thy heart's desire?
O for the breast, O make it his!
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“Yea, for my bosom here I sue;
(O Troy Town!)
Thou must give it where 'tis due,
Give it there to the heart's desire.
Whom do I give my bosom to?
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“Each twin breast is an apple sweet.
(O Troy Town!)
Once an apple stirred the beat
Of thy heart with the heart's desire:—
Say, who brought it then to thy feet?
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“They that claimed it then were three:
(O Troy Town!)
For thy sake two hearts did he
Make forlorn of the heart's desire.
Do for him as he did for thee!
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“Mine are apples grown to the south,
(O Troy Town!)
Grown to taste in the days of drouth,
Taste and waste to the heart's desire:
Mine are apples meet for his mouth.”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Venus looked on Helen's gift,
(O Troy Town!)
Looked and smiled with subtle drift,
Saw the work of her heart's desire:—
“There thou kneel'st for Love to lift!”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Venus looked in Helen's face,
(O Troy Town!)
Knew far off an hour and place,
And fire lit from the heart's desire;
Laughed and said, “Thy gift hath grace!”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Cupid looked on Helen's breast,
(O Troy Town!)
Saw the heart within its nest,
Saw the flame of the heart's desire,—
Marked his arrow's burning crest.
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Cupid took another dart,
(O Troy Town!)
Fledged it for another heart,
Winged the shaft with the heart's desire,
Drew the string and said, “Depart!”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Paris turned upon his bed,
(O Troy Town!)
Turned upon his bed and said,
Dead at heart with the heart's desire—
“Oh to clasp her golden head!”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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To the venerable General Gaines
Though Time has silvered o'er thy honored head,
And left some traces on thy gallant form,
Upon thy soul no hoar-frost has he shed,
Nor chilled the heart that yet beats true and warm.
And he, in whom the glow of early feeling,
Youth's fire and ardor, are not dimmed and cold,
Who still life's morning freshness is revealing, --
Howe'er Time's record stands, can ne'er grow old.
The fabled fountain of immortal youth,
That Ponce de Leon sought with such unrest,
In far-off southern isles, thou'st found in truth;
Its living waters gush within thy breast.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Winter
Clouded with snow
The cold winds blow,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun,
Day's journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Unearthly white.
Thick draws the dark,
And spark by spark,
The frost-fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the white moon.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Seaside At Winter
It's amazing to watch the frost's work.
It made the sea side a fairy tale.
The frost's quirk made the sea not for a sail.
The silence is all around.
For a while the time stands still.
The seagulls can't swill.
Like in the realm of Antarctica
Throughout the frost, snow and ice
I see the beauty of a paradise.
But! In the next few moments
The spring will come spelling the frost.
The nature's fulfillment will be the most.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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My Love Is Like To Ice
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, which is congeal's with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kind.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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