125
Exquisite Poems & Lyrics
002 She walks in beauty – George Gordon BYRON 003 Invictus – William Ernest HENLEY 004 Macbeth, Act I, Scene 5 - SHAKESPEARE 005 Do not go gentle – Dylan THOMAS 006 Funeral Blues – W.H. AUDEN 007 Ozymandias – Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 008 Safe In Their Alabaster Chambers –E.DICKINSON 009 Kubla Khan – Samuel Taylor COLERIDGE 010 In Flanders Fields – John MCCRAE 011 I am! – John CLARE 012 I wandered lonely as a Cloud- W. WORDSWORTH 013 Hamlet, Act II, Scene 1 - SHAKESPEARE 014 Endymion – John KEATS 015 Stopping by Woods – Robert FROST 016 Jerusalem – William BLAKE 017 Ode on Solitude – Alexander POPE 018 If – Rudyard KIPLING 019 The Passionate Shepherd – C. MARLOWE 020 Remember – Christina ROSSETTI 021 Requiescat – Oscar WILDE 022 I shall not cry return – Ellen M.H. GATES 023 Death, be not proud – John DONNE 024 The Eagle – Alfred TENNYSON 025 To Celia – Ben JONSON 026 How do I love thee – E. BARRETT BROWNING 027 Sea Fever – John MASEFIELD 028 Shropshire Lad XL - A.E. HOUSMAN 029 The Raven – Edgar Alan POE 030 One Day I wrote her name - Edmund SPENSER 031 And Death shall have no Dominion – D. THOMAS 032 The Song of Wandering Aengus – W.B. YEATS 033 Grass – Carl SANDBURG 034 Mending Wall – Robert FROST 035 When I have fears – John KEATS 036 Worn Out - Elizabeth SIDDAL 037 Guilt – John BETJEMAN 038 No man is an island – John DONNE 039 How sweet I roamed – William BLAKE 040 An Indian Love Song – Sarojini NAIDU 041 Ode tot he West Wind – Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 042 Give me the splendid silent sun - Walt WHITMAN 043 The Wreck of the Deutschland – G.M. HOPKINS 044 Four Quartets III – T.S. ELIOT 045 They have no Song – George MEREDITH 046 When I consider how my light – John MILTON 047 The Rime of the Ancient Mariner-S.T. COLERIDGE 048 And the days are not full enough – Ezra POUND 049 The Splendor Falls – Alfred TENNYSON 050 I shall not care – Sara TEASDALE 051 Elegy written in a Country Churchyard – T. GRAY 052 We wear the Mask – Paul Laurence DUNBAR 053 The Call of the Wild – Robert SERVICE 054 What lips my lips have kissed - Edna S.V. MILLAY 055 Dover Beach – Matthew ARNOLD 056 Annie’s Song – John DENVER 057 My heart leaps up – William WORDSWORTH 058 The Abortion – Anne SEXTON 059 Where the Sidewalk ends – Shell SILVERSTEIN 060 The Future – Leonard COHEN 061 The Garden of Proserpine - A.C. SWINBURNE 062 Tarantella – Hilaire BELLOC 063 The Man who sold the World – David BOWIE 064 Porphyria’s Lover – Robert BROWNING
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066 Vitae summa – Ernest DOWSON 067 Death – Emily DICKINSON 068 Days – Ralph Waldo EMERSON 069 I, Too, Sing America – Langston HUGHES 070 Alone – Edgar Alan POE 071 Morning has broken – Eleanor FARJEON 072 Cherry-ripe – Thomas CAMPION 073 The Sound of Silence – Paul SIMON 074 Lullaby – W.H. AUDEN 075 I do not love thee – Caroline NORTON 076 Yesterday – Paul MCCARTNEY 077 Phenomenal Woman - ANGELOU 078 The Gates of Damascus – James Elroy FLECKER 079 The New Colossus – Emma LAZARUS 080 Danny Boy - Frederic WEATHERLEY 081 Come, Heavy Sleep – DOWLAND/Elizab. Courtiers 082 Sweet Dreams – Annie LENNOX 083 Elegy for Jane – Theodore ROETHKE 084 Sudden Light – Dante ROSSETTI 085 To his coy mistress – Andrew MARVELL 086 Paul Revere’s Ride – Henry W. LONGFELLOW 087 The Taxi – Amy LOWELL 088 Her Eyes – Conrad AIKEN 089 See it through – Edgar Albert GUEST 090 Kashmir – Robert PLANT 091 Captain! My Captain! – Walt WHITMAN 092 Cassilda’s Song – Robert W. CHAMBERS 093 The Jabberwocky – Lewis CAROLL 094 The Leaden-eyed – Vachel LINDSAY 095 To my dear and loving husband –Anne BRADSTREET 096 Words – Neil YOUNG 097 Imagine – John LENNON 098 The Soldier – Rupert BROOKE 099 Stand by me – Charles Albert TINDLEY 100 Beds are burning – Peter GARETT 101 In a Garden by Moonlight – Thomas Lovell BEDDOES 102 Dust in the Wind – Kerry LIVGREN 103 Luke Havergal - Edwin Arlington ROBINSON 104 With Esther – Wilfrid Scawen BLUNT 105 The Ancient Track – H.P. LOVECRAFT 106 Death ain’t nothing - Donte COLLINS 107 Sympathy for the Devil – Mick JAGGER 108 The Garden of the Prophet – Khalil GIBRAN 109 The Night Before – Lee HAZLEWOOD 110 A Song of Enchantment – Walter DE LA MARE 111 I will not let thee go – Robert BRIDGES 112 Ecce Homo – David GASCOYNE 113 The Rapture – Thomas CAREW 114 Ballad of a Crystal Man - DONOVAN 115 The Nymph’s Reply – Walter RALEIGH 116 Goodnight Saigon – Billy JOEL 117 Are you loving enough? – Ella WHEELER-WILCOX 118 The weakness in me – Joan ARMATRADING 119 As we are so wonderfully – Kenneth PATCHEN 120 Lady d’Arbanville – Cat STEVENS 121 All that is gold does not glitter – J.R.R. TOLKIEN 122 An answer to – G.K. CHESTERTON 123 The Weeping Song – Nick CAVE 124 A Red, Red Rose – Robert BURNS 125 She’s not there – Rod ARGENT
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001.
The Second Coming
–
W.B. YEATS
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
002. She walks in beauty
– George Gordon BYRON
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
003. Invictus
– William Ernest HENLEY
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
004. Macbeth, Act I, Scene 5
–
William SHAKESPEARE
Lady Macbeth:
The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry ‘Hold, hold!’
005. Do not go gentle into that good night
–
Dylan THOMAS
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
006. Funeral Blues
– W.H. AUDEN
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
007. Ozymandias
–
Percy Bysshe SHELLEY
I met a Traveler from an antique land,
Who said, "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is OZYMANDIAS, King of Kings."
Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!
No thing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that Colossal Wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
008. Safe in their alabaster chambers
– Emily DICKINSON
Safe in their alabaster chambers,
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.
Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine ;
Babbles the bee in a stolid ear ;
Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence,—
Ah, what sagacity perished here !
Grand go the years in the crescent above them ;
Worlds
scoop their arcs, and firmaments row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.
009. Kubla KHAN
–
Samuel Taylor COLERIDGE
…..
Or, a vision in a dream.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
…..
010 – In Flanders Fields
–
John MCCRAE
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
011. I Am!
–
John CLARE
By John Clare
I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?
My friends forsake me like a memory lost.
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,
Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost.
And yet I am—I live—though I am toss'd
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dream,
Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys,
But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem
And all that's dear. Even those I loved the best
Are strange—nay, they are stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod,
For scenes where woman never smiled or wept;
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept
Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie,
The grass below; above the vaulted sky.
012. I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud / The Daffodils
– William WORDSWORTH
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
013. Hamlet, Act II, Scene 1
– William SHAKESPEARE
…..
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There’s no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one halfworld
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain’d sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate’s offerings, and wither’d murder,
Alarum’d by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
…..
014. Endymion
-
John KEATS
BOOK I
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
…..
015. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
- Robert FROST
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
016. Jerusalem
–
William BLAKE
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon Englands mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!
And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In Englands green & pleasant Land.
017. Ode on Solitude
–
Alexander POPE
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcernedly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixed; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
018. If
- Rudyard KIPLING
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
019. The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
–
Christopher MARLOWE
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the Rocks,
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow Rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of Roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and Ivy buds,
With Coral clasps and Amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
020. Remember
–
Christina ROSSETTI
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
021. Requiescat
–
Oscar WILDE
Requiescat
Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.
Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.
Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.
022. I Shall Not Cry Return
-
Ellen MH. GATES
I Shall not cry Return! Return!
— Nor weep my years away;
But just as long as sunsets burn,
— And dawns make no delay,
I shall be lonesome — I shall miss
Your hand, your voice, your smile, your kiss.
Not often shall I speak your name,
— For what would strangers care
That once a sudden tempest came
— And swept my gardens bare,
And then you passed, and in your place
Stood Silence with her lifted face.
Not always shall this parting be,
— For though I travel slow,
I, too, may claim eternity
— And find the way you go;
And so I do my task and wait
The opening of the outer gate.
023. Death, be not proud
-
John DONNE
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
024.The Eagle
–
Alfred TENNYSON
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
025 – To Celia
–
Ben JONSON
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent’st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.
026. How do I love thee
/ Sonnet 43
–
E. BARRETT BROWNING
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.