Life poems

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The LORD Is My Shepherd

© The Bible

I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:

Psalm 139:13-16

© The Bible

For you did knit me together

In the womb, before my birth

Astrophel and Stella: 42

© Sir Philip Sidney

O eyes, which do the Spheares of beautie mooue,Whose beames be joyes, whose joyes all vertues be,Who while they make Loue conquer, conquer Loue,The schooles where Venus hath learn'd Chastitie

Proverbs 2:1-7

© The Bible

If you will receive God's words

And treasure all His commands

Astrophel and Stella: 37

© Sir Philip Sidney

My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell,My tongue doth itch, my thoughts in labour be:Listen then Lordings with good eare to me,For of my life I must a riddle tell

Morpheus the liuely sonne of deadly sleepe,Witnesse of life to them that liuing die:A Prophet oft, and oft in historie,A Poet eke, as humours fly or creepe,Since thou in me so sure a power doest keepe,That neuer I with close vp sense do lie,But by thy worke (my Stella) I descrie,Teaching blind eyes both how to smile and weepe

Astrophel and Stella: 29

© Sir Philip Sidney

Like some weake Lords, neighbord by mighty kings,To keepe themselues and their chiefe cities free,Do easly yeeld, that all their coasts may beReady to store their campes of needfull things:So Stellas heart finding what power Loue brings,To keepe it selfe in life and liberty,Doth willing graunt, that in the frontiers heVse all to helpe his other conquerings:And thus her heart escapes, but thus her eyesSerue him with shot, her lips his heralds arre:Her breasts his tents, legs his triumphall carre:Her flesh his foode, her skin his armour braue,And I, but for because my prospect liesVpon that coast, am giu'n vp for a slaue

Astrophel and Stella: 24

© Sir Philip Sidney

Rich fooles there be, whose base and filthy hartLies hatching still the goods wherein they flow:And damning their owne selues to Tantals smart,Wealth breeding want, more blist, more wretched grow

A Year and a Day

© Siddall Elizabeth

Slow days have passed that make a year, Slow hours that make a day,Since I could take my first dear love And kiss him the old way;Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek, Dear Christ, this month of May

Dream Song 39: Goodbye, sir, and fare well. You're in the clear

© John Berryman

Goodbye, sir, & fare well. You're in the clear.
'Nobody' (Mark says you said) 'is ever found out.'
I figure you were right,
having as Henry got away with murder
for long. Some jarred clock tell me it's late,
not for you who went straight

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Who will believe my verse in time to come

© William Shakespeare

Who will believe my verse in time to comeIf it were fill'd with your most high deserts?Though yet heav'n knows it is but as a tombWhich hides your life and shews not half your parts:If I could write the beauty of your eyes,And in fresh numbers number all your graces,The age to come would say this poet lies,"Such heav'nly touches ne'er touch't earthly faces

Dream Song 21: Some good people, daring and subtle voices

© John Berryman

Some good people, daring & subtle voices
and their tense faces, as I think of it
I see sank underground.
I see. My radar digs. I do not dig.
Cool their flushing blood, them eyes is shutâ€”
eyes?

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Where art thou, muse, that thou forget'st so long

© William Shakespeare

Where art thou, muse, that thou forget'st so longTo speak of that which gives thee all thy might?Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,Dark'ning thy pow'r to lend base subjects light?Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem,In gentle numbers, time so idly spent,Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteemAnd gives thy pen both skill and argument

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thus is his cheek the map of days out-worn

© William Shakespeare

Thus is his cheek the map of days out-wornWhen beauty liv'd and died as flow'rs do now,Before these bastard signs of fair were borneOr durst inhabit on a living brow:Before the golden tresses of the dead,The right of sepulchers, were shorn away,To live a second life on second head,Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Those lips that love's own hand did make

Those lips that love's own hand did makeBreath'd forth the sound that said, "I hate,"To me that languish't for her sake,But when she saw my woeful state,Straight in her heart did mercy come,Chiding that tongue that, ever sweet,Was used in giving gentle doomAnd taught it thus anew to greet

Shakespeare's Sonnets: The other two, slight air and purging fire

The other two, slight air and purging fire,Are both with thee, where ever I abide;The first my thought, the other my desire,These present-absent with swift motion slide

Shakespeare's Sonnets: The little love-god lying once asleep

The little love-god lying once asleep,Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brandWhil'st many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keepCame tripping by, but in her maiden handThe fairest votary took up that fire,Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd,And so the general of hot desireWas sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd

Shakespeare's Sonnets: So are you to my thoughts as food to life

So are you to my thoughts as food to lifeOr as sweet season'd show'rs are to the ground;And for the peace of you I hold such strifeAs 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found,Now proud as an enjoyer, and anonDoubting the filching age will steal his treasure,Now counting best to be with you alone,Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure,Some-time all full with feasting on your sight,And by and by clean starvèd for a look,Possessing or pursuing no delightSave what is had, or must from you be took

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

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 dim'd,And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance, or nature's changing course, untrim'd:But thy eternal summer shall not fadeNor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,Nor shall death brag thou wandr'st in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee

Shakespeare's Sonnets: Or I shall live your epitaph to make

Or I shall live your epitaph to make,Or you survive when I in earth am rotten

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