The Paradox
I am the mother of sorrows,
I am the ender of grief;
I am the bud and the blossom,
I am the late-falling leaf.
I am thy priest and thy poet,
I am thy serf and thy king;
I cure the tears of the heartsick,
When I come near they shall sing.
White are my hands as the snowdrop;
Swart are my fingers as clay;
Dark is my frown as the midnight,
Fair is my brow as the day.
Battle and war are my minions,
Doing my will as divine;
I am the calmer of passions,
Peace is a nursling of mine.
Speak to me gently or curse me,
Seek me or fly from my sight;
I am thy fool in the morning,
Thou art my slave in the night.
Down to the grave I will take thee,
Out from the noise of the strife,
Then shalt thou see me and know me
Death, then, no longer, but life.
Then shalt thou sing at my coming,
Kiss me with passionate breath,
Clasp me and smile to have thought me
Aught save the foeman of death.
Come to me, brother, when weary,
Come when thy lonely heart swells;
I’ll guide thy footsteps and lead thee
Down where the Dream Woman dwells.
Related poetry:
- Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud Death, be not proud, though some have callèd 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 yet thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must low And soonest […]...
- The Curse of Kehama I charm thy life, From the weapons of strife, From stone and from wood, From fire and from flood, From the serpent’s tooth, And the beast of blood. From sickness I charm thee, And time shall not harm thee; But earth, which is mine, Its fruits shall deny thee; And water shall hear me, And […]...
- Psalm 05 Aug. 12. 1653. Jehovah to my words give ear My meditation waigh The voyce of my complaining hear My King and God for unto thee I pray. Jehovah thou my early voyce Shalt in the morning hear Ith’morning I to thee with choyce Will rank my Prayers, and watch till thou appear. For thou art […]...
- A Dialogue-Anthem Alas, poor Death! Where is thy glory? Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting? Alas, poor mortal, void of story! Go spell and read how I have killed thy King. Poor Death! And who was hurt thereby? Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst. Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die; These […]...
- Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
- A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
- THE REMORSE OF THE DEAD O SHADOWY Beauty mine, when thou shalt sleep In the deep heart of a black marble tomb; When thou for mansion and for bower shalt keep Only one rainy cave of hollow gloom; And when the stone upon thy trembling breast, And on thy straight sweet body’s supple grace, Crushes thy will and keeps thy […]...
- A Song of Pitcairn's Island Come, take our boy, and we will go Before our cabin door; The winds shall bring us, as they blow, The murmurs of the shore; And we will kiss his young blue eyes, And I will sing him, as he lies, Songs that were made of yore: I’ll sing, in his delighted ear, The island […]...
- They Who Tread the Path of Labor They who tread the path of labor follow where My feet have trod; They who work without complaining, do the holy will of God; Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere; Raise the stone, and thou shalt find Me, clease the wood and I am there. Where the many toil together, there […]...
- PARADOX I KNEW them both upon Miranda’s isle, Which is of youth a sea-bound seigniory: Misshapen Caliban, so seeming vile, And Ariel, proud prince of minstrelsy, Who did forsake the sunset for my tower And like a star above my slumber burned. The night was held in silver chains by power Of melody, in which all […]...
- Care-charming Sleep Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud Or painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet, And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain, Like hollow […]...
- Sonnet LXXXVIII When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults conceal’d, wherein I am […]...
- Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light When thou shalt be disposed to set me light And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults concealed, wherein I am […]...
- TO PHILLIS, TO LOVE AND LIVE WITH HIM Live, live with me, and thou shalt see The pleasures I’ll prepare for thee: What sweets the country can afford Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board. The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed, With crawling woodbine over-spread: By which the silver-shedding streams Shall gently melt thee into dreams. Thy clothing next, shall […]...
- The Subalterns I “Poor wanderer,” said the leaden sky, “I fain would lighten thee, But there are laws in force on high Which say it must not be.” II “I would not freeze thee, shorn one,” cried The North, “knew I but how To warm my breath, to slack my stride; But I am ruled as thou.” […]...
- The Quip The merry world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together where I lay, And all in sport to jeer at me. First, Beauty crept into a rose, Which when I plucked not, “Sir,” said she, “Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those?” But thou shalt answer, Lord, for […]...
- A Fleeting Passion Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp, Let’s grimly kiss with bated breath; As quietly and solemnly As Life when it is kissing Death. Now in the silence of the grave, My hand is squeezing that soft breast; While thou dost in such passion lie, It mocks me with its look of rest. But […]...
- 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 […]...
- John Donne – The Paradox No Lover saith, I love, nor any other Can judge a perfect Lover; Hee thinkes that else none can, nor will agree That any loves but hee; I cannot say I’lov’d. for who can say Hee was kill’d yesterday? Lover withh excesse of heat, more yong than old, Death kills with too much cold; Wee […]...
- Lovest Thou Me? (John, xxi.16) Hark my soul! it is the Lord; ‘Tis Thy Saviour, hear His word; Jesus speaks and speaks to thee, “Say poor sinner, lovst thou me? “I deliver’d thee when bound, And when bleeding, heal’d thy wound; Sought thee wandering, set thee right, Turn’d thy darkness into light. “Can a woman’s tender care Cease […]...
- In snow thou comest In snow thou comest Thou shalt go with the resuming ground, The sweet derision of the crow, And Glee’s advancing sound. In fear thou comest Thou shalt go at such a gait of joy That man anew embark to live Upon the depth of thee....
- Ambition and Art Ambition I am the maid of the lustrous eyes Of great fruition, Whom the sons of men that are over-wise Have called Ambition. And the world’s success is the only goal I have within me; The meanest man with the smallest soul May woo and win me. For the lust of power and the pride […]...
- Idea LIII: To the River Ancor Clear Ancor, on whose silver-sanded shore My soul-shrin’d saint, my fair Idea lies, O blessed brook, whose milk-white swans adore Thy crystal stream, refined by her eyes, Where sweet myrrh-breathing Zephyr in the spring Gently distills his nectar-dropping showers, Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing Amongst the dainty dew-impearled flowers; Say thus, fair brook, […]...
- To Mary The twentieth year is well nigh past Since first our sky was overcast;- Ah would that this might be the last! My Mary! Thy spirits have a fainter flow, I see thee daily weaker grow;- ‘Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, […]...
- If I may have it, when it's dead If I may have it, when it’s dead, I’ll be contented so If just as soon as Breath is out It shall belong to me Until they lock it in the Grave, ‘Tis Bliss I cannot weigh For tho’ they lock Thee in the Grave, Myself can own the key Think of it Lover! I […]...
- Sonnet LIII: Clear Anker Another to the River Anker Clear Anker, on whose silver-sanded shore My soul-shrin’d saint, my fair Idea, lies, O blessed brook, whose milk-white swans adore The crystal stream refined by her eyes, Where sweet myrrh-breathing Zephyr in the Spring Gently distils his nectar-dropping showers, Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing Among the dainty dew-impearled […]...
- The Thread of Life I The irresponsive silence of the land, The irresponsive sounding of the sea, Speak both one message of one sense to me: Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band Of inner solitude; we bind not thee; But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free? What heart […]...
- Though Deep Indifference Should Drowse THOUGH deep indifference should drowse The sluggish life beneath my brows, And all the external things I see Grow snow-showers in the street to me, Yet inmost in my stormy sense Thy looks shall be an influence. Though other loves may come and go And long years sever us below, Shall the thin ice that […]...
- Specula When He appoints to meet thee, go thou forth – It matters not If south or north, Bleak waste or sunny plot. Nor think, if haply He thou seek’st be late, He does thee wrong. To stile or gate Lean thou thy head, and long! It may be that to spy thee He is mounting […]...
- Consumption Ay, thou art for the grave; thy glances shine Too brightly to shine long; another Spring Shall deck her for men’s eyes – but not for thine – Sealed in a sleep which knows no wakening. The fields for thee have no medicinal leaf, And the vexed ore no mineral of power; And they who […]...
- Sonnet CXXIII No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire What thou dost foist upon us that is old, And rather make them born to […]...
- Plead For Me Oh, thy bright eyes must answer now, When Reason, with a scornful brow, Is mocking at my overthrow! Oh, thy sweet tongue must plead for me And tell, why I have chosen thee! Stern Reason is to judgment come, Arrayed in all her forms of gloom: Wilt thou, my advocate, be dumb? No, radiant angel, […]...
- Speak, God Of Visions O, thy bright eyes must answer now, When Reason, with a scornful brow, Is mocking at my overthrow! O, thy sweet tongue must plead for me, And tell why I have chosen thee! Stern Reason is to judgment come, Arrayed in all her forms of gloom: Wilt thou, my advocate, be dumb? No, radiant angel, […]...
- Sapphic Fragment “Thou shalt be Nothing.” Omar Khayyam. “Tombless, with no remembrance.” W. Shakespeare. Dead shalt thou lie; and nought Be told of thee or thought, For thou hast plucked not of the Muses’ tree: And even in Hades’ halls Amidst thy fellow-thralls No friendly shade thy shade shall company!...
- Thy Days Are Done Thy days are done, thy fame begun; Thy country’s strains record The triumphs of her chosen Son, The slaughter of his sword! The deeds he did, the fields he won, The freedom he restored! Though thou art fall’n, while we are free Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow’d from thee […]...
- The Dream Dear love, for nothing less than thee Would I have broke this happy dream; It was a theme For reason, much too strong for phantasy: Therefore thou waked’st me wisely; yet My dream thou brok’st not, but continued’st it. Thou art so truth that thoughts of thee suffice To make dreams truths, and fables histories. […]...
- Sonnet 123: No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change. Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire What thou dost foist upon us that is old, And rather make them born to […]...
- Psalm 3 Doubts and fears suppressed. My God, how many are my fears! How fast my foes increase! Conspiring my eternal death, They break my present peace. The lying tempter would persuade There’s no relief in heav’n; And all my swelling sins appear Too big to be forgiv’n. But thou, my glory and my strength, Shalt on […]...
- In San Lorenzo Is thine hour come to wake, O slumbering Night? Hath not the Dawn a message in thine ear? Though thou be stone and sleep, yet shalt thou hear When the word falls from heaven Let there be light. Thou knowest we would not do thee the despite To wake thee while the old sorrow and […]...
- 364. Song-I do confess thou art sae fair I DO confess thou art sae fair, I was been o’er the lugs in luve, Had I na found the slightest prayer That lips could speak thy heart could muve. I do confess thee sweet, but find Thou art so thriftless o’ thy sweets, Thy favours are the silly wind That kisses ilka thing it […]...