Sonnet # 19
Romantic thoughts of you fill my head
I see them clearly when I close my eyes
A thousand letters that join together to create
The words I love you which play daily upon my mind
Your face I see many times a day
A treasure I shan't never let it go
For you have cast a spell upon me my love
Thy timeless beauty hath bewitched my heart and soul
Your eyes be an enchantment of magical delight
That has gotten hold of me
Priceless is thy smile thou doth possess
A shinning jewel in my mind you will always be
I cannot but help write the words your memory brings
For visions of thee doth force my pen to sing
poem by John A. Hancock
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Related quotes
Come With Me, My Beloved
Your smile: brighter than a thousand suns;
Will it answer each time my heart beckons?
Your eyes: more telling than a thousand epic tales;
Will they see the love I have for thee, and see it prevails?
Your heart: more giving than a thousand philanthropists;
Will it allow for its own guard, lest you shall be remiss?
Your soul: the mate to mine own, evidenced from our genesis;
Will you allow for its rebirth, as I, honoring our mutual symbiosis?
E'er I endeavor, still yet, I shan't explicate more vividly than to say-
I do so adore thee, surely more than words, and shall more, each day!
Ne'er could I have gathered such awe-inspiring emotions as these,
My mind hath affirmed its verity, and my heart surely agrees!
Come with me, my beloved-our wondrous world, true, doth await-
I shall love thee more, each day more than the last, without abate!
Maurice Harris,13 December 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
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Sonnet # 59 To Dream Upon
Thou art like a pretty flower amongst the weeds
A rare orchid to adore
One sight of thee be'stills my heart
Truly a poet's essense of amour
I am held prisoner by thy beauty
Shackled by the wonderous enchantment of thy eyes
Oft have I gazed in quiet contemplation
Whilst my heart doth beat passionately for thee inside
Thou art a song thou art a sonnet
Endless words thy beauty brings to mind
A river of poetic inspiration created
From an image of an angel I would simply call devine
O'Dark of night ye olde faithful friend
Let visions of her in my sleep descend
poem by John A. Hancock
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Sonnet # 20
Thy velvet hair shines like the purest gold
Youe soft liquid eyes be a joy to see
Thy beauty is like a priceless portrait
You are the inspiration this poet would ever need
To write a thousand words upon a thousand lines
Flowing verse in a romantic theme
All dedicated to the thought of you
From a passion you brought to life in me
What dreams could be when one thinks of thee
Maybe? romance fill'd fairy tales
Where true love would always reign supreme
And a knight's love for thee would never fail
Though I have only seen thee but twice
Thy beauty twas enough to enflame my soul to write
poem by John A. Hancock
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Concord
Tremulous with love thy soul's hand pressures mine heart
So gently thy squeeze an impulse in me and I think of thee
Irresistible dost mine blood rush to mine mind smart
And in my mind, thy beauty with my intelligence I see.
Thy timid and shy engraved on mine love's ornament so faint
Impressing color on mine gray thoughts humorously and keen
With a palette of colors, thy beauty doth weave with thine perfect paint
The most magical charm one's thought hath ever seen.
As though thou read mine mind and played thy part
In harmony with thy gentle hand streaming blood to mine thought
Mine mind in concord with mine tremulous heart
Sincerely revels as thy soul designed from soul and wrought
A noble woman endowed with love's strength and mind
A gentlewoman like thee, understanding and kind..
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Flowers I See
The belladonna in the valley, so magical in purple, so deadly within me, the nightshade thou possess, and in thee my life fade. The amaryllis in mine soul, thy scarlet leaf haunts me, for in thy scarlet stained grief, mine love and life I see. The blossom canna even thee! with lips stained with vice, from the vice of pleasure you chose, to create the beauty of thine treasure for our souls to greed. The begonia of beauty delicious thy beauty leave, and like all beauty thou deceive, the love pregnant in me. The oriental poppy, thy aroma helps me to sleep and dream of colors as vivid as thee and as unreal as thy petals be, unreal my dreams of thee. O fairy blossoms, in pink and white wing, inside thy petals the butterfly dwells and the spring ferries sing. Ah! there is the rose, with all its beauty in she which grows, wins the hearts of all whom know, that in the rose our love to doth grow. Still all these flowers look pale next to she, the panther in brown, with eyes of ebony, whom stares at me and sees flowers in my gleaming eye and preys on me before I die.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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O love thou create
O love thou create and thou destroy
The innocent girl, the innocent boy
Tis in love that is, that lover's dwell
In foolish love fallen in foolish spell
One in love makes two hearts grow
None in love, and love stills show
On the melancholic face of beauty
In between the lines of poetry
Painted on the grace of Mary
Soaring on the wing of love's ferry
It's love's spell our life doth make
And life what love doth take
When thou say thou love me not
Thou love me not, but still love I got
So live I will.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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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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Sonnet 90: Stella, Think Not That I
Stella, think not that I by verse seek fame,
Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee;
Thine eyes my pride, thy lips my history:
If thou praise not, all other praise is shame.
Nor so ambitious am I, as to frame
A nest for praise in my young laurel tree:
In truth I swear, I wish not there should be
Grav'd in mine epitaph a poet's name:
Ne if I would, could I just title make,
That any laud to me thereof should grow,
Without my plumes from others' wings I take.
For nothing from my wit or will doth flow,
Since all my words thy beauty doth indite,
And Love doth hold my hand, and makes me write.
poem by Philip Sidney
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She Is My Heavenly Proffer
Perhaps once in thine own life, if truly fortuitous,
Ye shall gain privity to a beauty, as I, whose glorious
Resplendence shines-as a beacon, through all my hours-
A beauty so rarified it doth astound and overpowers
The senses at times! Though she doth dwell many a mile
From whence I am, still, I am greeted at all times-by her smile!
Should my life's flame be doused, right here and now,
I shan't have cause to aspire further-as this I avow:
I have glimpsed Heaven-in her eyes, it doth reside-
Not to speak slight of the Empyrean Kingdom, nor deride;
I have seen her truth, and simply must, to it, attest;
She is cause for me to know, I am most and truly blessed!
No matter of love or affection shall serve to suffice-no, not nearly;
Nothing shall ever be proper grace for the one I love most dearly!
My life until now hath been wanton of a love worthy of what I have to offer-
No longer need I search for same, obligation owed to God's greatest proffer!
Our consort was a divine providence, of this, you may be assured;
My soul hath now its compeer; My heart's everlasting guard, secured!
I must see this glory e'er closer still-to this end, I shall do what I must;
All my hopes and dreams-all the faith I have in my heart-to her, I do entrust!
'Lord, as Thou hast given unto me, this magnificent, glorious covenant,
I shall endeavor dutifully to pay it proper honor, as I remain allegiant! '
My amorous wonderment knows not bound, whence she is concerned-
For she doth embody all that for which my life, entire, I have yearned!
As this singularly magnificent night gives way to the dawn of a new day,
There is but one truth I know and shall endeavor evermore, to convey:
She is my Heavenly proffer, given unto me as proof of His divine inspiration-
She-the solitary source of my mind, heart and soul's panoply of elation!
Maurice Harris,24 May 2010
poem by Maurice Harris
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Doctor B. Of Tears
Who would have thought, there could have bin
Such joy in tears, wept for our sin?
Mine eyes have seen, my heart hath prov'd
The most and best of earthly joyes:
The sweets of love, and being lov'd,
Masks, Feasts, and Playes, and such like toyes.
Yet, this one tear, which now doth fall,
In true delight exceeds them all.
2. Indeed, mine eyes at first let in
Those guests that did these woes begin,
Therefore mine eyes in tears, and grief,
Are justly drown'd: but, that those tears
Should comfort bring, is past belief:
Oh God! in this thy grace appears,
Thou that mak'st light from darkness spring,
Mak'st joyes to weep, and sorrows sing.
3. Oh where am I? what may I think?
Help, help, alas my heart doth sink;
Thus lost in seas of woe,
Thus laden with my sin,
Waves of despair dash in,
And threat my overthrow.
What heart opprest with such a weight
Can chuse but break, and perish quite?
4. Yet, as at Sea in storms, men use
The Ship to save, the goods to lose;
So, in this fearfull storm,
This danger to prevent,
Before all hope be spent,
I'le chuse the lesser harm:
My tears to seas will convert,
And drown my eyes to save my heart.
5. Oh God my God, what shall I give
To thee in thanks? I am and live
In thee, and thou didst safe preserve
My health, my fame, my goods, my rent,
Thou mak'st me eat while others sterve;
Such unto me thy Blessings are,
As if I were thy only care.
6. But, oh my God! thou art more kind,
When I look inward on my mind:
Thou fill'st my heart with humble joy,
With patience, meekness, fervant love,
(Which doth all other loves destroy)
With faith (which nothing can remove)
And hope assur'd of heavens bliss;
This is my state: thy grace is this.
poem by Henry Wotton
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Lovers' Infiniteness
IF yet I have not all thy love,
Dear, I shall never have it all;
I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,
Nor can intreat one other tear to fall;
And all my treasure, which should purchase thee,
Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent;
Yet no more can be due to me,
Than at the bargain made was meant.
If then thy gift of love were partial,
That some to me, some should to others fall,
Dear, I shall never have thee all.
Or if then thou gavest me all,
All was but all, which thou hadst then;
But if in thy heart since there be or shall
New love created be by other men,
Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,
In sighs, in oaths, and letters, outbid me,
This new love may beget new fears,
For this love was not vow'd by thee.
And yet it was, thy gift being general;
The ground, thy heart, is mine; what ever shall
Grow there, dear, I should have it all.
Yet I would not have all yet.
He that hath all can have no more;
And since my love doth every day admit
New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store;
Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,
If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it;
Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it;
But we will have a way more liberal,
Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall
Be one, and one another's all.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love's Infiniteness
If yet I have not all thy love,
Dear, I shall never have it all,
I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,
Nor can entreat one other tear to fall,
And all my treasure, which should purchase thee,
Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent.
Yet no more can be due to me,
Than at the bargain made was meant;
If then thy gift of love were partial,
That some to me, some should to others fall,
Dear, I shall never have thee all.
Or if then thou gavest me all,
All was but all, which thou hadst then;
But if in thy heart, since, there be or shall
New love created be, by other men,
Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,
In sighs, in oaths, and letters outbid me,
This new love may beget new fears,
For, this love was not vowed by thee.
And yet it was, thy gift being general;
The ground, thy heart, is mine, whatever shall
Grow there, dear, I should have it all.
Yet I would not have all yet;
He that hath all can have no more,
And since my love doth every day admit
New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store;
Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,
If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it:
Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it:
But we will have a way more liberal,
Than changing hearts, to join them, so we shall
Be one, and one another's all.
poem by John Donne
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Sonnet # 17
Though I know thy heart is taken
These words to you I must say
Thou art lovely to gaze upon my dear
Your pretty smile shines brightly forth each day
No offence to thee is intended
But by a poet's honour I am duty bound
That when ever inspired by beauty such as yours
Poetic words of love must be written down
Sweet words of stirring romantic verse
Every other line to rhyme,
If only to say that if thy heart were free
I would swim the widest ocean to join your heart with mine
Your an angel sent from heaven you be just like a star
Thee ever seeming so close but yet so far
poem by John A. Hancock
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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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Sonnet 47: Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other,
When that mine eye is famished for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.
So, either by thy picture or my love,
Thyself, away, art present still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee;
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 43: Fair Eyes, Sweet Lips
Fair eyes, sweet lips, dear heart, that foolish I
Could hope by Cupid's help on you to prey;
Since to himself he doth your gifts apply,
As his main force, choice sport, and easeful stay.
For when he will see who dare him gainsay,
Then with those eyes he looks, lo by and by
Each soul doth at Love's feet his weapons lay,
Glad if for her he give them leave to die.
When he will play, then in her lips he is,
Where blushing red, that Love's self them doth love,
With either lip he doth the other kiss:
But when he will for quiet's sake remove
From all the world, her heart is then his room
Where well he knows, no man to him can come.
poem by Philip Sidney
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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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My Love's Avail
I have no words which befit my heart's sentiment,
Nothing could ever properly form it's embodiment-
Alas, I assure thee, my beloved, all that I may, with lyric-
My love's reality doth belie it's very essence, esoteric!
Causative is it: my heart's sweet, exalted jubilation;
Each day next, reason more, for my soul's celebration!
Mundane is made extraordinary; austere, made most fair;
I was meant for but to love thee-this, to all, I do swear!
Not of mine own volition, I hath not a choice
But to provide my amorous heart, a voice-
It doth vocalize a narrative I simply must tell;
All need know what love for thee doth compel!
As surely as words shall always, in this, fail-
So too shall you be assured of my love's avail!
Maurice Harris,20 November 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
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Palpable love, true beauty, wandering in thee
Palpable love, true beauty, wandering in thee
Touching each atom, insinuating in every gene
Playing each organ, in solemn symphony;
I hear thy deaf beauty, thy beauty I feign.
Magnificent, marvelous I seamlessly wonder
Can my mind ever achieve the beauty of thee?
I can only listen and not touch thy thunder;
The musical nature which thou compose me.
No genius, intuition from love's orb
Revolves around thee and the soul thy possess,
For in music and by music thou absorb
All truth, all beauty, that my heart doth obsess.
So orchestrate with thy breathe and uplift me high
Without thy music, I am mortal, I know I shall die…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Her Poetic Countenance
An unfamiliar beauty, so beautiful, she dulled mine charm
A rich man I was with word, so poor I am now
For all my wit and my wit's gravity her beauty doth disarm
For her sensation animates my treasure on her dainty brow.
How beautiful doth beauty perceive thee
Painted by the stokes of spirit, spiritual rapture
So extraordinary doth passion play its delightful symphony;
Singing my poetry on thy countenance for mine hand to capture.
Blushing like a girl, for a girl my poem be
I want to pluck it charm and pen its sweet ink
Into the language of love that my heart doth see
Thine intelligence is beauty my poetry mine heart me think
I beg thee with elegance set foot into my sonnet and plant thy seed
So in my words thy countenance in my poetry one shall forever read.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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