A Poet's Wooing
I woo’d a woman once,
But she was sharper than an eastern wind.
Tennyson
“What may I do to make you glad,
To make you glad and free,
Till your light smiles glance
And your bright eyes dance
Like sunbeams on the sea?
Read some rhyme that is blithe and gay
Of a bright May morn and a marriage day?”
And she sighed in a listless way she had,
“Do not read it will make me sad!”
“What shall I do to make you glad
To make you glad and gay,
Till your eyes gleam bright
As the stars at night
When as light as the light of day
Sing some song as I twang the strings
Of my sweet guitar through its wanderings?”
And she sighed in the weary way she had,
“Do not sing it will make me sad!”
“What can I do to make you glad
As glad as glad can be,
Till your clear eyes seem
Like the rays that gleam
And glint through a dew-decked tree?
Will it please you, dear, that I now begin
A grand old air on my violin?”
And she spoke again in the following way,
“Yes, oh yes, it would please me, sir;
I would be so glad you’d play
Some grand old march in character,
And then as you march away
I will no longer thus be sad,
But oh, so glad so glad so glad!”
Related poetry:
- The wooing of the southland (ALASKAN BALLAD) The Northland reared his hoary head And spied the Southland leagues away “Fairest of all fair brides,” he said, “Be thou my bride, I pray!” Whereat the Southland laughed and cried: “I’ll bide beside my native sea, And I shall never be thy bride Till thou com’st wooing me!” The Northland’s heart was […]...
- Lift Every Voice and Sing Lift ev’ry voice and sing, Till earth and heaven ring, Ring with the harmonies of Liberty; Let our rejoicing rise High as the list’ning skies, Let it resound loud as the rolling sea. Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us, Sing a song full of the hope that […]...
- Sing To Me Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom, I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom, I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, – Sing of the beauty and brightness of life – Sing to me, sing to me! Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad! I am so weary, my soul […]...
- The Time I've Lost In Wooing The time I’ve lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman’s eyes, Has been my heart’s undoing. Tho’ Wisdom oft has sought me, I scorn’d the lore she brought me, My only books Were women’s looks, And folly’s all they taught me. Her smile when Beauty granted, I hung with […]...
- Poets Vain is the chiming of forgotten bells That the wind sways above a ruined shrine. Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells Hunger that craves immortal Bread and Wine. Light songs we breathe that perish with our breath Out of our lips that have not kissed the rod. They shall not live who have […]...
- The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
- Besides the Autumn poets sing Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze A few incisive Mornings A few Ascetic Eves Gone Mr. Bryant’s “Golden Rod” And Mr. Thomson’s “sheaves.” Still, is the bustle in the Brook Sealed are the spicy valves Mesmeric fingers softly touch […]...
- Poets to Come POETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come! Not to-day is to justify me, and answer what I am for; But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known, Arouse! Arouse-for you must justify me-you must answer. I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future, I but advance […]...
- The Poets O ye dead Poets, who are living still Immortal in your verse, though life be fled, And ye, O living Poets, who are dead Though ye are living, if neglect can kill, Tell me if in the darkest hours of ill, With drops of anguish falling fast and red From the sharp crown of thorns […]...
- Hiawatha's Wooing “As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him, she obeys him, Though she draws him, yet she follows; Useless each without the other!” Thus the youthful Hiawatha Said within himself and pondered, Much perplexed by various feelings, Listless, longing, hoping, fearing, Dreaming still of Minnehaha, Of […]...
- To Certain Poets Now is the rhymer’s honest trade A thing for scornful laughter made. The merchant’s sneer, the clerk’s disdain, These are the burden of our pain. Because of you did this befall, You brought this shame upon us all. You little poets mincing there With women’s hearts and women’s hair! How sick Dan Chaucer’s ghost must […]...
- The Poets light but Lamps The Poets light but Lamps Themselves go out The Wicks they stimulate If vital Light Inhere as do the Suns Each Age a Lens Disseminating their Circumference...
- If the foolish, call them "flowers" If the foolish, call them “flowers” Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well! Those who read the “Revelations” Must not criticize Those who read the same Edition With beclouded Eyes! Could we stand with that Old “Moses” “Canaan” denied Scan like him, the stately landscape On the other […]...
- The doll's wooing The little French doll was a dear little doll Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses; Her eyes were of hue A most delicate blue And dark as the night were her tresses; Her dear little mouth was fluted and red, And this little French doll was so very well bred That whenever accosted her […]...
- A Celebration of Charis: I. His Excuse for Loving Let it not your wonder move, Less your laughter, that I love. Though I now write fifty years, I have had, and have, my peers; Poets, though divine, are men, Some have lov’d as old again. And it is not always face, Clothes, or fortune, gives the grace; Or the feature, or the youth. But […]...
- THE LIVING FLAME THEY pass before me, these Eyes full of light, Eyes made magnetic by some angel wise; The holy brothers pass before my sight, And cast their diamond fires in my dim eyes. They keep me from all sin and error grave, They set me in the path whence Beauty came; They are my servants, and […]...
- In Memoriam: Four Poets 1 Searock his tower above the sea, Searock he built, not ivory. Searock as well his haunted art Who gave to plunging hawks his hearts. 2 He loved to stand upon his head To demonstrate he was not dead. Ah, if his poems misbehave ‘Tis only to defy the grave. 3 This exquisite patrician bird […]...
- Dear March Come in Dear March Come in How glad I am I hoped for you before Put down your Hat You must have walked How out of Breath you are Dear March, Come right up the stairs with me I have so much to tell I got your Letter, and the Birds The Maples never knew that you […]...
- The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
- Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
- It's Grand It’s grand to be a squatter And sit upon a post, And watch your little ewes and lambs A-giving up the ghost. It’s grand to be a “cockie” With wife and kids to keep, And find an all-wise Providence Has mustered all your sheep. It’s grand to be a Western man, With shovel in your […]...
- Read Sweet how others strove Read Sweet how others strove Till we are stouter What they renounced Till we are less afraid How many times they bore the faithful witness Till we are helped As if a Kingdom cared! Read then of faith That shone above the fagot Clear strains of Hymn The River could not drown Brave names of […]...
- The Many Greene, garlanded with February’s few flowers Ere March came in with Marlowe’s rapturous rage; Peele, from whose hand the sweet white locks of age Took the mild chaplet woven of honored hours; Nash, laughing hard; Lodge, flushed from lyric bowers; And Lilly, a goldfinch in a twisted cage Fed by some gay great lady’s pettish […]...
- ERGO BIBAMUS! FOR a praiseworthy object we’re now gather’d here, So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS! Tho’ talk may be hush’d, yet the glasses ring clear, Remember then: ERGO BIBAMUS! In truth ’tis an old, ’tis an excellent word, With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirr’d, And an echo the festal hall filling is heard, A […]...
- Beeny Cliff I O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea, And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free- The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me. I I The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away In a nether sky, engrossed in saying […]...
- Sonnet XLIII When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright are bright in dark directed. Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, How would thy shadow’s form form happy show To the clear […]...
- Sonnet 43: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed. Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, How would thy shadow’s form, form happy show To the clear […]...
- Twilight Song Through the shine, through the rain We have shared the day’s load; To the old march again We have tramped the long road; We have laughed, we have cried, And we’ve tossed the King’s crown; We have fought, we have died, And we’ve trod the day down. So it’s lift the old song Ere the […]...
- Old Poets (For Robert Cortez Holliday) If I should live in a forest And sleep underneath a tree, No grove of impudent saplings Would make a home for me. I’d go where the old oaks gather, Serene and good and strong, And they would not sigh and tremble And vex me with a song. The pleasantest sort […]...
- Poetry it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It....
- To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, 1704. The Author then Forty LORDS, knights, and squires, the numerous band That wear the fair Miss Mary’s fetters, Were summoned by her high command To show their passions by their letters. My pen amongst the rest I took, Lest those bright eyes, that cannot read, Should dart their kindling fire, and look The power they have to be obey’d. […]...
- Marzo Pazzo Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread, Leaps from heaven, and the deep dawn’s arch Hails re-risen again from the dead Mad March. Soft small flames on rowan and larch Break forth as laughter on lips that said Nought till the pulse in them beat love’s march. But the heartbeat now in the […]...
- 115. The Farewell to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, Tarbolton ADIEU! a heart-warm fond adieu; Dear brothers of the mystic tie! Ye favourèd, enlighten’d few, Companions of my social joy; Tho’ I to foreign lands must hie, Pursuing Fortune’s slidd’ry ba’; With melting heart, and brimful eye, I’ll mind you still, tho’ far awa. Oft have I met your social band, And spent the cheerful, […]...
- To Thomas Butts TO my friend Butts I write My first vision of light, On the yellow sands sitting. The sun was emitting His glorious beams From Heaven’s high streams. Over sea, over land, My eyes did expand Into regions of air, Away from all care; Into regions of fire, Remote from desire; The light of the morning […]...
- Loch Katrine Beautiful Loch Katrine in all thy majesty so grand, Oh! how charming and fascinating is thy silver strand! Thou certainly art most lovely, and worthy to be seen, Especially thy beautiful bay and shrubberies green. Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time, And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime; There’s no […]...
- The Old Poet I will be glad because it is the Spring; I will forget the winter in my heart Dead hopes and withered promise; and will wring A little joy from life ere life depart. For spendthrift youth with passion-blinded eyes, Stays not to see how woods and fields are bright; He hears the phantom voices call, […]...
- The Cold Clear Spring At Nanyang A pity it is evening, yet I do love the water of this spring Seeing how clear it is, how clean; Rays of sunset gleam on it, Lighting up its ripples, making it One with those who travel The roads; I turn and face The moon; sing it a song, then Listen to the sound […]...
- Looking-Glass River Smooth it glides upon its travel, Here a wimple, there a gleam O the clean gravel! O the smooth stream! Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, Pave pools as clear as air How a child wishes To live down there! We can see our colored faces Floating on the shaken pool Down in cool places, Dim and […]...
- Fire-Fly City Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting, Bearing me far away, after a perfect day of love’s delight: Wakeful with all the sad-sweet memories of parting, I lift the narrow window-shade and look out on the night. Lonely the land unknown, and like a river flowing, Forest and field and hill […]...
- After All The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town; My spirit revives in the morning breeze, Though it died when the sun went down; The river is high and the stream is strong, And the grass is green and tall, And I fain would think that this world of ours is […]...