Lesbia Hath a Beaming Eye

Related poetry:

1. Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled Thy beauty’s form in table of my heart; My body is the frame wherein ’tis held, And perspective it is best painter’s art. For through the painter must you see his skill To find where your true image pictured lies, Which in my bosom’s shop is […]...
2. My True Love Hath My Heart, And I Have His My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange, one for the other giv’n. I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss; There never was a better bargain driv’n. His heart in me keeps me and him in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; He loves my […]...
3. The Irish Convict's Return Ye mountains and glens of Old Ireland, I’ve returned home to ye again; During my absence from ye My heart always felt great pain. Oh, how I long’d to see you dear Nora, And the old folks at home; And the beautiful Lakes o’ Killarney, Where we oft together did roam. Ye beautiful Lakes of […]...
4. Sonnet 148: O me! what eyes hath love put in my head O me! what eyes hath love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight! Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, That censures falsely what they see aright? If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? If it be […]...
5. He Who Hath Glory Lost He who hath glory lost, nor hath Found any soul to fellow his, Among his foes in scorn and wrath Holding to ancient nobleness, That high unconsortable one – His love is his companion....
6. Nora, the Maid of Killarney Down by the beautiful Lakes of Killarney, Off times I have met my own dear Barney, In the sweet summer time of the year, In the silvery moonlight so clear, I’ve rambled with my sweetheart Barney, Along the green banks of the Lakes of Killarney. The Lakes of Killarney are most lovely to be seen […]...
7. This Merit hath the worst This Merit hath the worst It cannot be again When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone The Maimed may pause, and breathe, And glance securely round The Deer attracts no further Than it resists the Hound...
8. From A Letter From Lesbia … So, praise the gods, Catullus is away! And let me tend you this advice, my dear: Take any lover that you will, or may, Except a poet. All of them are queer. It’s just the same – a quarrel or a kiss Is but a tune to play upon his pipe. He’s always hymning […]...
9. Sonnet 19 – The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise XIX The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandise; I barter curl for curl upon that mart, And from my poet’s forehead to my heart Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,- As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . . The bay-crown’s […]...
10. To The Memory Of My Beloved, The Author, Mr William Shakespeare, And What He Hath Left Us To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much. ‘Tis true, and all men’s suffrage. But these ways Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise; For silliest ignorance […]...
11. The Soul that hath a Guest The Soul that hath a Guest Doth seldom go abroad Diviner Crowd at Home Obliterate the need And Courtesy forbid A Host’s departure when Upon Himself be visiting The Emperor of Men...
12. Passer Mortuus Est Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness,-presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain Dries the sheer libation, And the little petulant hand Is an annotation. After all, my erstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?...
13. How Soon Hath Time How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stoln on his wing my three and twentieth year! My hasting days fly on wtih full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, That I to manhood am arrived so near, And inward ripeness doth much […]...
14. Sonnet 135: Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will, And Will to boot, and Will in overplus; More than enough am I that vex thee still, To thy sweet will making addition thus. Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? Shall will in others seem right […]...
15. Sonnet 97: How like a winter hath my absence been How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December’s bareness everywhere! And yet this time removed was summer’s time, The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, Like widowed wombs […]...
16. Sonnet 127: In the old age black was not counted fair In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name; But now is black beauty’s successive heir, And beauty slandered with a bastard shame. For since each hand hath put on nature’s power, Fairing the foul with art’s false borrowed face, Sweet beauty hath no name no […]...
17. Unprofitableness How rich, O Lord! how fresh thy visits are! ‘Twas but just now my bleak leaves hopeless hung Sullied with dust and mud; Each snarling blast shot through me, and did share Their youth, and beauty, cold showers nipt, and wrung Their spiciness and blood; But since thou didst in one sweet glance survey Their […]...
18. Tis Sweet to Think Tis sweet to think that, where’er we rove, We are sure to find something blissful and dear, And that, when we’re far from the lips that we love, We’ve but to make love to the lips we are near. The heart, like a tendril, accustom’d to cling, Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish […]...
19. Sonnet CXXVII In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name; But now is black beauty’s successive heir, And beauty slander’d with a bastard shame: For since each hand hath put on nature’s power, Fairing the foul with art’s false borrow’d face, Sweet beauty hath no name, no […]...
20. Dear Heart, Why Will You Use Me So? Dear heart, why will you use me so? Dear eyes that gently me upbraid, Still are you beautiful – but O, How is your beauty raimented! Through the clear mirror of your eyes, Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss, Desolate winds assail with cries The shadowy garden where love is. And soon shall […]...
21. Blue dress i can see through the blue Dress when you stand In the doorway – the light Come indoors softly like A cat between your legs When you walk and The dress flows Over the curved pebble Of your belly into The blue pool my eye Is already there Waiting for the ripple I have the […]...
22. Desmond's Song By the Feal’s wave benighted, No star in the skies, To thy door by Love lighted, I first saw those eyes. Some voice whisper’d o’er me, As the threshold I cross’d, There was ruin before me, If I loved, I was lost. Love came, and brought sorrow Too soon in his train; Yet so sweet, […]...
23. I'll tell you what you Wanderers I’ll tell you what you wanderers, who drift from town to town; Don’t look into a good girl’s eyes, until you’ve settled down. It’s hard to go away alone and leave old chums behind – It’s hard to travel steerage when your tastes are more refined – To reach a place when times are bad, […]...
24. They Know Not My Heart They know not my heart, who believe there can be One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee; Who think, while I see thee in beauty’s young hour, As pure as the morning’s first dew on the flower, I could harm what I love, as the sun’s wanton ray But smiles on the […]...
25. Twilight by the Cabin DUSK, a pearl-grey river, o’er Hill and vale puts out the day- What do you wonder at, asthore, What’s away in yonder grey? Dark the eyes that linger long- Dream-fed heart, awake, come in, Warm the hearth and gay the song: Love with tender words would win. Fades the eve in dreamy fire, But the […]...
26. The Young that Died in Beauty If souls should only sheen so bright In heaven as in e’thly light, An’ nothen better wer the cease, How comely still, in sheape an’ feace, Would many reach thik happy pleace, – The hopevul souls that in their prime Ha’ seem’d a-took avore their time, – The young that died in beauty. But when […]...
27. The Twenty-Third Psalm My Shepherd is the Lord my God, There is no want I know; His flock He leads in verdant meads, Where tranquil waters flow. He doth restore my fainting soul With His divine caress, And, when I stray, He points the way To paths of righteousness. Yea, though I walk the vale of death, What […]...
28. 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, […]...
29. The Young May Moon The young May moon is beaming, love. The glow-worm’s lamp is gleaming, love. How sweet to rove, Through Morna’s grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! the heavens look bright, my dear, ‘Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to […]...
30. Sonnet XXIV Mine eye hath play’d the painter and hath stell’d Thy beauty’s form in table of my heart; My body is the frame wherein ’tis held, And perspective it is the painter’s art. For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictured lies; Which in my bosom’s shop is […]...
31. 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 […]...
32. Fairest! Put on a While Fairest! put on a while These pinions of light I bring thee, And o’er thy own green isle In fancy let me wing thee. Never did Ariel’s plume, At golden sunset, hover O’er scenes so full of bloom As I shall waft thee over. Fields, where the Spring delays And fearlessly meets the ardour Of […]...
33. The Legacy When in death I shall calmly recline, O bear my heart to my mistress dear, Tell her it lived upon smiles and wine Of the brightest hue, while it linger’d here. Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow To sully a heart so brilliant and light; But balmy drops of the red grape borrow, […]...
34. Elegy II: The Anagram Marry, and love thy Flavia, for she Hath all things whereby others beautious be, For, though her eyes be small, her mouth is great, Though they be ivory, yet her teeth be jet, Though they be dim, yet she is light enough, And though her harsh hair fall, her skin is rough; What though her […]...
35. Ninon De Lenclos, On Her Last Birthday So let me have the rouge again, And comb my hair the curly way. The poor young men, the dear young men They’ll all be here by noon today. And I shall wear the blue, I think- They beg to touch its rippled lace; Or do they love me best in pink, So sweetly flattering […]...
36. Shall the Harp Then Be Silent Shall the Harp then be silent, when he who first gave To our country a name, is withdrawn from all eyes? Shall a Minstrel of Erin stand mute by the grave Where the first where the last of her Patriots lies? No faint though the death-song may fall from his lips, Though his Harp, like […]...
37. Sonnet LVII: You Best Discern'd You best discern’d of my mind’s inward eyes, And yet your graces outwardly divine, Whose dear remembrance in my bosom lies, Too rich a relic for so poor a shrine; You, in whom Nature chose herself to view When she her own perfection would admire, Bestowing all her excellence on you, At whose pure eyes […]...
38. Ne'er Ask the Hour Ne’er ask the hour what is it to us How Time deals out his treasures? The golden moments lent us thus Are not his coin, but Pleasure’s. If counting them o’er could add to their blisses, I’d number each glorious second: But moments of joy are, like Lesbia’s kisses, Too quick and sweet to be […]...
39. Good-By Now or Pardon My Gauntlet Bring down the moon for genteel Janet; She’s too refined for this gross planet. She wears garments and you wear clothes, You buy stockings, she purchases hose. She say That is correct, and you say Yes, And she disrobes and you undress. Confronted by a mouse or moose, You turn green, she turns chartroose. Her […]...
40. The Bargain MY true love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange one for another given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven: My true love hath my heart, and I have his. His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My heart […]...