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There’s many and many, and not so far, Is willing to dry my tears away; There’s many to tell me what you are, And never a lie to all they say.
It’s little the good to hide my head, It’s never the use to bar my door; There’s many as counts the tears I shed, There’s mourning hearts for my heart is
There’s honester eyes than your blue eyes, There’s better a mile than such as you. But when did I say that I was wise, And when did I hope that you were true?
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
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?
For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes, Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda, Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies Upon the page, entrapped from every reader. Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure Divine- a talisman- an amulet That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure- The words- the syllables! Do not forget The trivia lest point, or you may lose your labor And yet there is in this no Gordian knot Which one might not undo without a sabre, If one could merely comprehend the plot. En-written upon the leaf where now are peering Eyes scintillating soul, there lie peruse Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet’s, too, Its letters, although naturally lying Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinand- Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying! You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.
Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages notwithstanding; And I have other reasons for so doing Besides my innate love of contradiction; Each poet – if a poet – in pursuing The muses tho’ their bowers of Truth or Fiction, Has studied very little of his part, Read nothing, written less – in short’s a fool Endued with neither soul, nor sense, nor art, Being ignorant of one important rule, Employed in even the theses of the school- Called – I forget the heathenish Greek name [Called anything, its meaning is the same] “Always write first things uppermost in the heart.”
Most glorious Lord of life! that on this day Didst make thy triumph over death and sin, And having harrowed hell, didst bring away Captivity thence captive, us to win: This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin; And grant that we, for whom Thou didst die, Being, with thy dear blood, clean washed from sin, May live for ever in felicity; And that thy love we weighing worthily, May likewise love Thee for the same again; And for thy sake, that all like dear didst buy, With love may one another entertain. So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought: Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide and made my pains his prey. “Vain man,” said she, “that dost in vain essay A mortal thing so to immortalize; For I myself shall like to this decay, And eke my name be wiped out likewise.” “Not so,” quoth I; “let baser things devise To lie in dust, but you shall live by fame; My verse your virtues rare shall westernize, And in the heavens write you glorious name: Where, when as Death shall all the world subdue, Our love shall live, and later life renew.
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In
this site you will find original poems, beautiful, romantic and
sentimental, with lots of love and beautiful images to give and share
with your loved ones, on your social networks and even WhatsApp.
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