Loving In Truth, And Fain In Verse My Love To Show

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1. Sonnet I: Loving In Truth Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain: Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain; I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her […]...
2. Astrophel and Stella: I ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: I Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain, Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain, I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe; […]...
3. Are you Loving Enough? Are you loving enough? There is some one dear, Some one you hold as the dearest of all In the holiest shrine of your heart. Are you making it known? Is the truth of it clear To the one you love? If death’s quick call Should suddenly tear you apart, Leaving no time for a […]...
4. I'm going to give up loving you i’m going to give up loving you I’m going to hate you instead Living’s so difficult difficult baby Hating’s like staying in bed You expect too much when i’m loving you I haven’t got it in me to give Love keeps on keeps on at me baby It makes a man frightened to live Hating’s […]...
5. Sonnet XI: In Truth, Oh Love In truth, oh Love, with what a boyish kind Thou doest proceed in thy most serious ways: That when the heav’n to thee his best displays, Yet of that best thou leav’st the best behind. For like a child that some fair book doth find, With gilded leaves or colored vellum plays, Or at the […]...
6. Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my […]...
7. The Danger Of Writing Defiant Verse And now I have another lad! No longer need you tell How all my nights are slow and sad For loving you too well. His ways are not your wicked ways, He’s not the like of you. He treads his path of reckoned days, A sober man, and true. They’ll never see him in the […]...
8. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
9. Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
10. The Love a Life can show Below The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon And smites the Tinder in the Sun And hinders Gabriel’s Wing ‘Tis this in Music hints and sways And far abroad on Summer days Distils uncertain pain ‘Tis this enamors in […]...
11. Sonnet 17: Who will believe my verse in time to come Who will believe my verse in time to come If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts: If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, […]...
12. Song From An Evening's Love After the pangs of a desperate lover, When day and night I have sighed all in vain, Ah, what a pleasure it is to discover In her eyes pity, who causes my pain! When with unkindness our love at a stand is, And both have punished ourselves with the pain, Ah, what a pleasure the […]...
13. The Nakedness of Truth (I know it well) Despair has no wings, Nor has love, No countenance: They do not speak. I do not stir, I do not behold them, I do not speak to them, But I am as real as my love and my despair....
14. For A Lady Who Must Write Verse Unto seventy years and seven, Hide your double birthright well- You, that are the brat of Heaven And the pampered heir to Hell. Let your rhymes be tinsel treasures, Strung and seen and thrown aside. Drill your apt and docile measures Sternly as you drill your pride. Show your quick, alarming skill in Tidy mockeries […]...
15. The Show My soul looked down from a vague height with Death, As unremembering how I rose or why, And saw a sad land, weak with sweats of dearth, Gray, cratered like the moon with hollow woe, And fitted with great pocks and scabs of plaques. Across its beard, that horror of harsh wire, There moved thin […]...
16. Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor […]...
17. If you should tire of loving me If you should tire of loving me Some one of our far days, Oh, never start to hide your heart Or cover thought with praise. For every word you would not say Be sure my heart has heard, So go from me all silently Without a kiss or word; For God must give you happiness, […]...
18. Sonnet 138: When my love swears that she is made of truth When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearnèd in the world’s false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking […]...
19. Till Death is narrow Loving Till Death is narrow Loving The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness be spent But He whose loss procures you Such Destitution that Your Life too abject for itself Thenceforward imitate Until Resemblance perfect Yourself, for His pursuit Delight of Nature abdicate Exhibit Love somewhat...
20. All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace I like to think (and The sooner the better!) Of a cybernetic meadow Where mammels and computers Live together in mutually Programming harmony Like pure water Touching clear sky. I like to think (right now, please!) Of a cybernetic forest Filled with pines and electronics Where deer stroll peacefully Past computers As if they were […]...
21. NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE ‘Tis not ev’ry day that I Fitted am to prophesy: No, but when the spirit fills The fantastic pannicles, Full of fire, then I write As the Godhead doth indite. Thus enraged, my lines are hurl’d, Like the Sibyl’s, through the world: Look how next the holy fire Either slakes, or doth retire; So the […]...
22. THE LOVING ONE WRITES THE look that thy sweet eyes on mine impress The pledge thy lips to mine convey, the kiss, He who, like me, hath knowledge sure of this, Can he in aught beside find happiness? Removed from thee, friend-sever’d, in distress, These thoughts I vainly struggle to dismiss: They still return to that one hour of […]...
23. Modern Love XLVI: At Last We Parley At last we parley: we so strangely dumb In such a close communion! It befell About the sounding of the Matin-bell, And lo! her place was vacant, and the hum Of loneliness was round me. Then I rose, And my disordered brain did guide my foot To that old wood where our first love-salute Was […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. Sin's Round Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am, That my offences course it in a ring. My thoughts are working like a busy flame, Until their cockatrice they hatch and bring: And when they once have perfected their draughts, My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts. My words take fire fro m my inflamed […]...
26. THE LOVING ONE ONCE MORE WHY do I o’er my paper once more bend? Ask not too closely, dearest one, I pray For, to speak truth, I’ve nothing now to say; Yet to thy hands at length ’twill come, dear friend. Since I can come not with it, what I send My undivided heart shall now convey, With all its […]...
27. Love's Deity I long to talk with some old lover’s ghost, Who died before the God of Love was born: I cannot think that he, who then loved most, Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn. But since this god produced a destiny, And that vice-nature, Custom, lets it be, I must love her […]...
28. Sonnet 152: In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn, But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing: In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn In vowing new hate after new love bearing. But why of two oaths’ breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjured most, For all my […]...
29. Farewell To Verse In youth when oft my muse was dumb, My fancy nighly dead, To make my inspiration come I stood upon my head; And thus I let the blood down flow Into my cerebellum, And published every Spring or so Slim tomes in vellum. Alas! I am rheumatic now, Grey is my crown; I can no […]...
30. Sonnet 142: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving, O, but with mine, compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving, Or if it do, not from those lips of thine That have profaned their scarlet ornaments And sealed false bonds of […]...
31. Dark Truth Birds have no consciousness of doom: Yon thrush that serenades me daily From scented snow of hawthorn bloom Would not trill out his glee so gaily, Could he foretell his songful breath Would sadly soon be stilled in death. Yon lambs that frolic on the lea And incarnate the joy of life, Would scarce disport […]...
32. Advice to the Grub Street Verse-writers Ye poets ragged and forlorn, Down from your garrets haste; Ye rhymers, dead as soon as born, Not yet consign’d to paste; I know a trick to make you thrive; O, ’tis a quaint device: Your still-born poems shall revive, And scorn to wrap up spice. Get all your verses printed fair, Then let them […]...
33. The Truth of Woman Woman’s faith, and woman’s trust – Write the characters in the dust; Stamp them on the running stream, Print them on the moon’s pale beam, And each evanescent letter Shall be clearer, firmer, better, And more permanent, I ween, Than the thing those letters mean. I have strain’d the spider’s thread ‘Gainst the promise of […]...
34. The Gardener XXVII: Trust Love “Trust love even if it brings sorrow. Do not close up your heart.” “Ah no, my friend, your words are Dark, I cannot understand them.” “Pleasure is frail like a dewdrop, While it laughs it dies. But sorrow is Strong and abiding. Let sorrowful Love wake in your eyes.” “Ah no, my friend, your words […]...
35. Sonnet 10 – Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright, Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed: And love is fire. And when I say at need I love thee. . . mark! . . . I love thee-in thy sight I […]...
36. The Simple Truth I bought a dollar and a half’s worth of small red potatoes, Took them home, boiled them in their jackets And ate them for dinner with a little butter and salt. Then I walked through the dried fields On the edge of town. In middle June the light Hung on in the dark furrows at […]...
37. Love's Language How does Love speak? In the faint flush upon the tell-tale cheek, And in the pallor that succeeds it; by The quivering lid of an averted eye – The smile that proves the parent to a sigh – Thus doth Love speak. How does Love speak? By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak Of bounding […]...
38. Revelation We make ourselves a place apart Behind light words that tease and flout, But oh, the agitated hear Till someone really find us out. ‘Tis pity if the case require (Or so we say) that in the end We speak the literal to inspire The understanding of a friend. But so with all, from babes […]...
39. The Child Is Father To The Man ‘The child is father to the man.’ How can he be? The words are wild. Suck any sense from that who can: ‘The child is father to the man.’ No; what the poet did write ran, ‘The man is father to the child.’ ‘The child is father to the man!’ How can he be? The […]...
40. Sonnet 26: Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, To thee I send this written embassage To witness duty, not to show my wit- Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, But that I hope some good […]...