Peace poems
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The Faerie Queene, Book III, Canto 6
© Edmund Spenser
THE THIRD BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENEContayningTHE LEGENDE OF BRITOMARTISOR OF CHASTITIE
Eleventh Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
"Who is it that this dark nightUnderneath my window plaineth?"It is one who from thy sightBeing, ah, exil'd, disdainethEvery other vulgar light.
Astrophel and Stella: Eleuenth Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Who is it that this darke night,Vnderneath my window playneth?It is one who from thy sight,Being (ah) exild, disdaynethEuery other vulgar light
Astrophel and Stella: 98
© Sir Philip Sidney
Ah bed, the field where joyes peace some do see,The field where all my thoughts to warre be train'd,How is thy grace by my strange fortune stain'd!How thy lee shores by my sighes stormed be!With sweete soft shades thou oft invitest meTo steale some rest, but wretch I am constrain'd,(Spur'd with loues spur, though gold & shortly rain'dWith cares hard hand) to turne and tosse in thee
Astrophel and Stella: 81
© Sir Philip Sidney
O kisse, which doest those ruddy gemmes impart,Or gemmes, or frutes of new-found Paradise,Beathing all blisse and sweetning to the heart,Teaching dumbe lips a nobler exercise
Astrophel and Stella: 70
© Sir Philip Sidney
My Muse may well grudge at my heau'nly joy,If still I force her in sad rimes to creepe:She oft hath drunke my teares, now hopes to enjoyNectar of mirth, since I Ioues cup do keepe
Astrophel and Stella: 39
© Sir Philip Sidney
Come sleepe, O sleepe, the certaine knot of peace,The baiting place of wit, the balme of woe,The poore mans wealth, the prisoners release,Th'indifferent Iudge betweene the high and low;With shield of proofe shield me from out the preaseOf those fierce darts, dispaire at me doth throw,O make me in those civill warres to cease;I will good tribute pay if thou do so
Astrophel and Stella: 34
© Sir Philip Sidney
Come let me write, and to what end? to easeA burth'ned hart, how can words ease, which areThe glasses of thy dayly vexing care?Oft cruell sights well pictured foorth do please
Man’s Sinfulness And Need Of Repentance And Forgiveness
© The Bible
“Look! With error I was brought forth with birth pains,
And in sin my mother conceived me.”
“May you purify me from sin with hyssop, that I may be clean;
May you wash me, that I may become whiter even than snow.”
“Conceal your face from my sins,
And wipe out even all my errors.”—Ps. 51:5, 7, 9.
Astrophel and Stella: 8
© Sir Philip Sidney
Loue borne in Greece, of late fled from his natiue place,Forc'd by a tedious proofe, that Turkish hardned hartIs no fit marke to pierce with his fine pointed dart:And pleasd with our soft peace, staid here his flying race,But finding these North climes do coldly him embrace,Not vsed to frozen clips, he straue to find some part,Wherewith most ease and warmth he might employ his art:At length he perch'd himselfe in Stellas joyfull face,Whose faire skin, beamy eyes like mourning sun on snow,Deceiu'd the quaking boy, who thought from so pure light,Effects of liuely heate, must needs in nature grow
Troilus and Cressida (excerpts): The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre
© William Shakespeare
The Heavens themselves, the planets, and this centreObserve degree, priority, and place,Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,Office, and custom, in all line of order
Dream Song 134: Sick at 6 and sick again at 9
© John Berryman
Sick at 6 & sick again at 9
was Henry's gloomy Monday morning oh.
Still he had to lecture.
They waited, his little children, for stricken Henry
to rise up yet once more again and come oh.
They figured he was a fixture,
Shakespeare's Sonnets: So are you to my thoughts as food to life
© William Shakespeare
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: Not mine own fears nor the prophetic soul
© William Shakespeare
Not mine own fears nor the prophetic soulOf the wide world, dreaming on things to come,Can yet the lease of my true love control,Suppos'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom
