Monday, August 31, 2015
Sunday, August 30, 2015
The Poor Ghost by Christina Rossetti
"Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me,
With your golden hair all fallen below your knee,
And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea,
And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?"
"From the other world I come back to you,
My locks are uncurled with dripping drenching dew.
You know the old, whilst I know the new:
But tomorrow you shall know this too."
"Oh not tomorrow into the dark, I pray;
Oh not tomorrow, too soon to go away:
Here I feel warm and well-content and gay:
Give me another year, another day."
"Am I so changed in a day and a night
That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright,
Is fain to turn away to left or right
And cover up his eyes from the sight?"
"Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend,
I loved you for life, but life has an end;
Thro' sickness I was ready to tend:
But death mars all, which we cannot mend.
"Indeed I loved you; I love you yet
If you will stay where your bed is set,
Where I have planted a violet
Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet."
"Life is gone, then love too is gone,
It was a reed that I leant upon:
Never doubt 1 will leave you alone
And not wake you rattling bone with bone.
"I go home alone to my bed,
Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head,
Roofed in with a load of lead,
Warm enough for the forgotten dead.
"But why did your tears soak thro' the clay,
And why did your sobs wake me where I lay?
I was away, far enough away:
Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day."
With your golden hair all fallen below your knee,
And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea,
And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?"
"From the other world I come back to you,
My locks are uncurled with dripping drenching dew.
You know the old, whilst I know the new:
But tomorrow you shall know this too."
"Oh not tomorrow into the dark, I pray;
Oh not tomorrow, too soon to go away:
Here I feel warm and well-content and gay:
Give me another year, another day."
"Am I so changed in a day and a night
That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright,
Is fain to turn away to left or right
And cover up his eyes from the sight?"
"Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend,
I loved you for life, but life has an end;
Thro' sickness I was ready to tend:
But death mars all, which we cannot mend.
"Indeed I loved you; I love you yet
If you will stay where your bed is set,
Where I have planted a violet
Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet."
"Life is gone, then love too is gone,
It was a reed that I leant upon:
Never doubt 1 will leave you alone
And not wake you rattling bone with bone.
"I go home alone to my bed,
Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head,
Roofed in with a load of lead,
Warm enough for the forgotten dead.
"But why did your tears soak thro' the clay,
And why did your sobs wake me where I lay?
I was away, far enough away:
Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day."
Christina Rossetti
Friday, July 31, 2015
Love Poetry. Those lips that Love's own hand did make. by William Shakespeare
Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate"
To me that languished for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet:
"I hate" she altered with an end,
That followed it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away.
"I hate" from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying "not you."
by William Shakespeare
Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate"
To me that languished for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet:
"I hate" she altered with an end,
That followed it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away.
"I hate" from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying "not you."
by William Shakespeare
English Poem. A Dream Within A Dream.by Edgar Allan Poe
A Dream Within A Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
by Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
by Edgar Allan Poe
English Poem. We, unaccustomed to courage by Maya Angelou
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free
by Maya Angelou
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free
by Maya Angelou
A Dream Within A Dream. by Edgar Allan Poe
A Dream Within A Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
by Edgar Allan Poe
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Matthew Arnold - Growing Old
Growing Old by Matthew Arnold
What is it to grow old?
is it to lose the glory of the form,
The lustre of the eye?
Is it for beauty to forego her wreath?
Yes,but not for this alone.
Is it to feel our strenght--
Not our bloom only,but our strenght-decay?
Is it to feel each limb
Grow stiffer, every function less exact.
Each nerve more weakly strung?
Yes,this,and more! but not,
Ah,tis not what in youth we dreamed twould be!
Tis not to have our life
Mellowed and softened as with sunset-glow.
A golden day's decline!
Tis not to see the world
As from a hight,with rapt prophetic eyes.
And heart profoundly stirred.
And weep,and feel the fulness of the past,
The years that are not more!
It is to spend long days
And not once feel that we were ever young.
It is to add , immured
In the hot prison of the present, month
To month with weary pain
It is to suffer this.
And feel but half,and feebly,what we feel.
Deep in our hidden heart
Festers the dull rememberance of a change.
But no emotion--none.
It is-- last stage of all--
When we are frozen up within, and quite
The phantom of ourselves,
To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost
Which blamed the living man.
What is it to grow old?
is it to lose the glory of the form,
The lustre of the eye?
Is it for beauty to forego her wreath?
Yes,but not for this alone.
Is it to feel our strenght--
Not our bloom only,but our strenght-decay?
Is it to feel each limb
Grow stiffer, every function less exact.
Each nerve more weakly strung?
Yes,this,and more! but not,
Ah,tis not what in youth we dreamed twould be!
Tis not to have our life
Mellowed and softened as with sunset-glow.
A golden day's decline!
Tis not to see the world
As from a hight,with rapt prophetic eyes.
And heart profoundly stirred.
And weep,and feel the fulness of the past,
The years that are not more!
It is to spend long days
And not once feel that we were ever young.
It is to add , immured
In the hot prison of the present, month
To month with weary pain
It is to suffer this.
And feel but half,and feebly,what we feel.
Deep in our hidden heart
Festers the dull rememberance of a change.
But no emotion--none.
It is-- last stage of all--
When we are frozen up within, and quite
The phantom of ourselves,
To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost
Which blamed the living man.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
love poetry - English Poetry On Love
He holds me when i started to cry...
makes me smile with just his eyes...
shares my hopes,dreams,and fears...
wipes away all my tears...
i love him without regret...
i just haven't found him yet.
makes me smile with just his eyes...
shares my hopes,dreams,and fears...
wipes away all my tears...
i love him without regret...
i just haven't found him yet.
......
you know i love you dearly
but i cause you so much pain
i cannot find true happiness
and you feel you are to blame
it seems so unjust
for me to make you feel this way
it's so hard to decide
whether i should leave or stay
staying is not wise
as faking happiness is exhausting
leaving's a bit worse
for your heartbreak i would be causing
so show me what to do
help me to be strong
lend a helping hand
give me your shoulder to cry on
but i cause you so much pain
i cannot find true happiness
and you feel you are to blame
it seems so unjust
for me to make you feel this way
it's so hard to decide
whether i should leave or stay
staying is not wise
as faking happiness is exhausting
leaving's a bit worse
for your heartbreak i would be causing
so show me what to do
help me to be strong
lend a helping hand
give me your shoulder to cry on
........
.......
Lets Compromise
True understanding must prevail,
And if our thoughts don't harmonize,
We both should try to compromise.
.......
Because Of You
Because of you
my world is now whole,
because of you
love lives in my soul.
because of you
i have laughter in my eyes,
because of you
i am no longer afraid of good-byes.
you are my pillar
my stone of strenght,
with me through all seasons
and great times of length.
my love for you is pure
boundless through space and time,
it grows stronger everyday
with the knowledge that you'll always be mine.
at the altar
i will joyously say 'I do',
for i have it all now
and it's all because of you.
......
Lets Compromise
True understanding must prevail,
And if our thoughts don't harmonize,
We both should try to compromise.
.......
Because Of You
Because of you
my world is now whole,
because of you
love lives in my soul.
because of you
i have laughter in my eyes,
because of you
i am no longer afraid of good-byes.
you are my pillar
my stone of strenght,
with me through all seasons
and great times of length.
my love for you is pure
boundless through space and time,
it grows stronger everyday
with the knowledge that you'll always be mine.
at the altar
i will joyously say 'I do',
for i have it all now
and it's all because of you.
......
Love Sonnet 1 by william shakespeare
Love Sonnet 1
From fairst creatures we desire,
That there by beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament,
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
And,tender churl,mak'st waste in niggarding:
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due,by the grave and thee.
From fairst creatures we desire,
That there by beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament,
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
And,tender churl,mak'st waste in niggarding:
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due,by the grave and thee.
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