Sorry James, just couldn't resist!

(And thanks to Emma.)

Of Tears
Anon

Who would have thought there could have bin
Such joy in tears wept for our sin?
Mine eyes have seen, my heart hath proved
The most and best of earthly joys:
The sweets of love, and being loved,
Masks, feasts and plays, and such like toys.
Yet this one tear, which now doth fall,
In true delight exceeds them all.

 

 

Seasons

 

 

Song
Richard Brome

No love, nor Fate dare I accuse
For that my Love did me refuse;
But oh my own unworthiness,
That durst presume so mickle bliss.
It was too much for me to love
A man so like the gods above;
An Angel's shape, A Saint-like voice,
Are too divine for human choice.

Oh had I wishly giv'n my heart,
For to have loved him but in part
Sought only to enjoy his face,
Or any one peculiar grace
Of foot, or hand, or lip, of eye,
I might have lived where now I die.
But I presuming all to choose,
And now condemnéd all to lose.

The Surrender

Henry King

MY once dear love, hapless that I no more
Must call thee so, the rich affection's store
That fed our hope lies now exhaust and spent,
Like sums of treasure unto bankrupts lent.

We, that did nothing study but the way
To love each other, with which thoughts the day
Rose with delight to us and with them set,
Must learn the hateful art, how to forget.

We that did nothing wish that Heaven would give
Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live
Beyond that wish, all these now cancel must
As if not writ in faith, but words and dust.

Yet witness those clear vows which lovers make,
Witness the chaste desires that never brake
Into unruly heats; witness that breast
Which in thy bosom anchor'd his whole rest;
'Tis no default in us: I dare acquite
Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white
As thy pure self. Cross planets did envý
Us to each other, and Heaven did untie
Faster than vows could bind. Oh, that the stars,
When lovers meet, should stand opposed in wars!

Since, then, some higher destinies command,
Let us not strive, nor labor to withstand
What is past help. The longest date of grief
Can never yield a hope of our relief;
And though we waste ourselves in moist laments,
Tears may drown us, but not our discontents.

Fold back our arms, take home our fruitless loves,
That must new fortunes try, like turtle doves
Dislodgëd from their haunts. We must in tears
Unwind a love knit up in many years.
In this last kiss I here surrender thee
Back to thy self, so thou again art free;
Thou in another, sad as that, resend
The truest heart that lover e'er did lend.

Now turn from each. So fare our severed hearts
As the divorced soul from her body parts.

Message
Sarah Teasdale

I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!

It was your voice I heard,
You waked and loved me so --
I send you back this word,
I know, I know!      

The Dreams of my Heart
Sarah Teasdale

The dreams of my heart and my mind pass,
Nothing stays with me long,
But I have had from a child
The deep solace of song;

If that should ever leave me,
Let me find death and stay
With things whose tunes are played out and forgotten
Like the rain of yesterday.      

Youth Gone and Beauty Gone
Christina Rossetti

Youth gone, and beauty gone if ever there
Dwelt beauty in so poor a face as this;
Youth gone and beauty, what remains of bliss?
I will not bind fresh roses in my hair,
To shame a cheek at best but little fair,--
Leave youth his roses, who can bear a thorn,--
I will not seek for blossoms anywhere,
Except such common flowers as blow with corn.
Youth gone and beauty gone, what doth remain?
The longing of a heart pent up forlorn,
A silent heart whose silence loves and longs;
The silence of a heart which sang its songs
While youth and beauty made a summer morn,
Silence of love that cannot sing again.

I Saw a Star
Harold Vinal

I saw a star flame in the sky,
I heard a wild bird sing,
and down where all the forest stirred,
another answering.
All suddenly I felt the gleam that made my heart revive:
Ah, God, it takes such simple things to keep the soul alive.

Delicious!

Love
Rupert Brooke

Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate,
Where that comes in that shall not go again;
Love sells the proud heart's citadel to Fate.
They have known shame, who love unloved. Even then,
When two mouths, thirsty each for each, find slaking,
And agony's forgot, and hushed the crying
Of credulous hearts, in heaven -- such are but taking
Their own poor dreams within their arms, and lying
Each in his lonely night, each with a ghost.
Some share that night. But they know love grows colder,
Grows false and dull, that was sweet lies at most.
Astonishment is no more in hand or shoulder,
But darkens, and dies out from kiss to kiss.
All this is love; and all love is but this.     

Joyous Love Poem No.3
Gene Knudsen-Hoffman

Let all the drums
beat solemnly
somewhere else -

And you can hang
your satins and stiff brocades
on museum walls -
and toss all the silver and gold
and sapphires and rubies
into the sea -

I have need of none of these -
For tonight the sun is rising
behind my eyes and they shine sapphire -
and my hair feels fine gold
and my skin is satin enough
and the silence sings -
        like Mozart.

The Lover (part only)
Coventry Patmore

He meets, by heavenly chance express,
The destined maid; some hidden hand
Unveils to him that loveliness
Which others cannot understand.
His merits in her presence grow,
To match the promise in her eyes,
And round her happy footsteps blow
The authentic airs of Paradise.
For joy of her he cannot sleep;
Her beauty haunts him all the night;
It melts his heart, it makes him weep
For wonder, worship, and delight.
O, paradox of love, he longs,
Most humble when he most aspires,
To suffer scorn and cruel wrongs
From her he honours and desires.
Her graces make him rich, and ask
No guerdon this imperial style
Affronts him; he disdains to bask,
The pensioner of her priceless smile.
He prays for some hard thing to do,
Some work of fame and labour immense,
To stretch the languid built and thew
Of love's fresh-born magnipotence.

RAF Bomber Command Memorial

Night Bombers
Owen Chave

Eastward they climb, black shapes against the grey
Of falling dusk, gone with the nodding day
From English fields. Not theirs the sudden glow
Of triumph that their fighter-brothers know;
Only to fly through cloud, through storm, through night,
Unerring, and to keep their purpose bright,
Nor turn until, their dreadful duty done,
Westward they climb to race the awakened sun.