.: poetry

This evening as I sat

With a cup of Rooibos tea

I ended up loosing myself

In the pages of poetry

Tonight a series of fortunate events led me to pick up 'The Albatross Book of Living Verse' which {to be honest} I had bought as a decorative piece and had never intended to read. Before I knew it, a minute had turned into ten and when I looked next, I had lost myself somewhere in between pages of poetic brilliance.

Words have always enchanted me. I could feast on delectable sentences all day long and never tire of their beauty. Tonight as I licked the tip of my index finger and turned to each new page I was captivated by the creativity of talented wordsmiths. It would be cruel not to share them with you, so here are some of my favourites...

Love Not Me For Comely Grace

{Author: Unknown}

Love not me for comely grace,

For my pleasing eye or face,

Nor for any outward part,

No, nor for a constant heart:

For these may fail or turn to ill,

So thou and I shall sever:

Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,

And love me still but know not why-

So hast thou the same reason still

To doat upon me ever!

When We Two Parted

{Author: George Gordon, Lord Byron}

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

Beauty's Self

{Author: Unknown}

My love in her attire doth show her wit,

It doth so well become her;

For every season she hath dressings fit,

For winter, spring and summer.

No beauty she doth miss

When all her robes are on;

But Beauty's self she is

When all her robes are gone.

Love Will Find Out The Way

{Author: Unknown}

Over the mountains
         And over the waves,
Under the fountains
         And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
         Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
         Love will find out the way.

When there is no place
         For the glow-worm to lie,
When there is no space
         For receipt of a fly;
When the midge dares not venture
         Lest herself fast she lay,
If Love come, he will enter
         And will find out the way.

You may esteem him
         A child for his might;
Or you may deem him
         A coward for his flight;
But if she whom Love doth honour
         Be conceal'd from the day--
Set a thousand guards upon her,
         Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him
         By having him confined;
And some do suppose him,
         Poor heart! to be blind;
But if ne'er so close ye wall him,
         Do the best that ye may,
Blind Love, if so ye call him,
         He will find out his way.

You may train the eagle
         To stoop to your fist;
Or you may inveigle
         The Phoenix of the east;
The lioness, you may move her
         To give over her prey;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover--
         He will find out the way.

If the earth it should part him,
         He would gallop it o'er;
If the seas should o'erthwart him,
         He would swim to the shore;
Should his Love become a swallow,
         Through the air to stray,
Love will lend wings to follow,
         And will find out the way.

There is no striving
         To cross his intent;
There is no contriving
         His plots to prevent;
But if once the message greet him
         That his True Love doth stay,
If Death should come and meet him,
         Love will find out the way!

Sonnet 18

{Author: William Shakespeare}

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Daffodils

{Author: William Wordsworth}

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;

A poet could not be but gay,

In such a jocund company!

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Sonnet 116 - Love Is Not Love Which Alters

{Author: William Shakespeare}


Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love


Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

There Is A Garden In Her Face

{Author: Thomas Campion}

There is a Garden in her face,

Where Roses and white Lillies grow ;

A heau'nly paradice is that place,

Wherein all pleasant fruits doe flow.

There Cherries grow, which none may buy

Till Cherry ripe themselues doe cry.

Those Cherries fayrely doe enclose

Of Orient Pearle a double row ;

Which when her louely laughter showes,

They look like Rose-buds fill'd with snow.

Yet them nor Peere nor Prince can buy,

Till Cherry ripe themselues doe cry.

Her Eyes like Angels watch them still ;

Her Browes like bended bowes doe stand,

Threatning with piercing frownes to kill

All that attempt with eye or hand

Those sacred Cherries to come nigh,

Till Cherry ripe themselues doe cry.

Auguries of Innocence

-Extract-

{Author: William Blake}

To see a world in a grain of sand

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour.

Love's Secret

{Author: William Blake}

Never seek to tell thy love,

Love that never told can be;

For the gentle wind does move

Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,

I told her all my heart;

Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,

Ah! she did depart!

Soon as she was gone from me,

A traveler came by,

Silently, invisibly

He took her with a sigh.





The Old Stoic

{Author: Emily Bronte}







Riches I hold in light esteem,
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream,
That vanished with the morn:

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!"

Yes, as my swift days near their goal:
'Tis all that I implore ;
In life and death a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.








Love's Stricken "Why"

{Author: Emily Bronte}




Love's stricken "why"

Is all that love can speak-

Built of but just one syllable

The hugest hearts that break.

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads."

— Rosemary Urquico