Instantly and put it to use
Even among the desks
And chairs of the office, should
It come between nine and five.
HARVEY SHAPIRO
AMERICAN (B. 1925)
LOVE AND PASSION
Love of you is mixed deep in my vitals
Love of you is mixed deep in my vitals,
like water stirred into flour for bread,
Like simples compound in a sweet-tasting drug,
like pastry and honey mixed to perfection.
Oh, hurry to look at your love!
Be like horses charging in battle,
Like a gardener up with the sun
burning to watch his prize bud open.
High heaven causes a girl’s lovelonging.
It is like being too far from the light,
Far from the hearth of familiar arms.
It is this being so tangled in you.
ANONYMOUS
EGYPTIAN (ANCIENT)
TRANSLATED BY JOHN L. FOSTER
He is more than a hero
He is more than a hero
He is a god in my eyes—
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you—he
who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing
laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can’t
speak—my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,
hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body
and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn’t far from me
SAPPHO
GREEK (C. 612 B.C.)
TRANSLATED BY MARY BARNARD
Flowers for Heliodora
White violets I will weave
with myrtle and tender narcissus;
I will weave laughing lilies too,
and soft crocus and purple hyacinths
with roses, flower of lovers,
that I may come to decorate her brow
and brighten her perfumed hair
in a rain of flowers.
MELEAGROS
GREEK (C. 140-70 B.C.)
TRANSLATED BY WILLIS BARNSTONE
Lesbia for ever on me rails
Lesbia for ever on me rails,
To talk of me, she never fails,
Now, hang me, but for all her art
I find that I have gained her heart.
My proof is this: I plainly see
The case is just the same with me;
I curse her every hour sincerely,
Yet, hang me, but I love her dearly.
CATULLUS
LATIN (84?-54? B.C.)
TRANSLATED BY JONATHAN SWIFT
Carmina 85
I hate and love, wouldst thou the reason know?
I know not, but I burn and feel it so.
CATULLUS
LATIN (84?-54? B.C.)
TRANSLATED BY RICHARD LOVELACE
Her quick eyes
Her quick eyes
and animated mouth
unsettle me.
So, of course,
her lifted breasts,
full lips—
soft fruits of desire.
But why should a
single wisp of hair,
stroked beneath her
navel like
some unforgettable
line of poetry,
reduce me to such
anguish?
BHARTRIHARI
INDIAN (570?-651?)
TRANSLATED BY ANDREW SCHELLING
Through the whole night we slowly
Through the whole night we slowly
made love,
body pressed against body,
cheek against cheek.
We spoke every thought that came into mind.
Lost in each other’s arms
lost in words, we never noticed
dawn had come
the night flown.
BHAVABHUTI
INDIAN (FL. 700)
TRANSLATED BY ANDREW SCHELLING
This night of no moon
This night of no moon
There is no way to meet him.
I rise in longing—
My breast pounds, a leaping flame,
My heart is consumed in fire.
ONO NO KOMACHI
JAPANESE (C. 833-857)
TRANSLATED BY DONALD KEENE
My ghostly father, I me confess
My ghostly father, I me confess,
First to God and then to you,
That at a window—wot ye how?
I stole a kiss of great sweetness,
Which done was without avisedness;
But it is done, not undone, now.
My ghostly father, I me confess,
First to God and then to you.
But I restore it shall doubtless
Again, if so be that I mow;
And that to God I make a vow,
And else I ask forgiveness.
My ghostly father, I me confess,
First to God and then to you,
That at a window—wot ye how?
I stole a kiss of great sweetness.
CHARLES OF ORLEANS
FRENCH (1394?-1465)
I must go walk the wood so wild
I must go walk the wood so wild,
And wander here and there
In dread and deadly fear;
For where I trusted I am beguiled,
And all for one.
Thus am I banished from my bliss
By craft and false pretense,
Faultless without offense;
As of return no certain is,
And all for fear of one.
My bed shall be under the greenwood tree,
A tuft of brakes under my head,
As one from joy were fled;
Thus from my life day by day I flee,
And all for one.
The running streams shall be my drink,
Acorns shall be my food;
Nothing may do me good
But when of thy beauty I do think —
And all for love of one.
ANONYMOUS
ENGLISH (15TH CENTURY)
When to my lone soft bed at eve returning
When to my lone soft bed at eve returning
Sweet desir’d sleep already stealeth o’er me,
My spirit flieth to the fairy-land of her tyrannous love.
Him then I think fondly to kiss, to hold him
Frankly then to my bosom; I that all day
Have looked for him suffering, repining, yea many long days.
O bless’d sleep, with flatteries beguile me;
So, if I ne’er may of a surety have him,
Grant to my poor soul amorous the dark gift of this illusion.
LOUISE LABé
FRENCH (1526-1566)
TRANSLATED BY ROBERT BRIDGES
Love Will Find Out the Way
Over the mountains
And under 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,
Where there is no space
For receipt of a fly;
Where 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 from 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 you may,
Blind Love, if so you call him,
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, ye may move her
To give over her prey;
But you’ll ne’er stop a lover —
He will find out his 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!
ANONYMOUS
ENGLISH (17TH CENTURY)
Ovid’s Fifth Elegy
In summer’s heat and mid-time of the day
To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay,
One window shut, the other open stood,
Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood,
Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,
Or night being past and yet not day begun.
Such light to shame-faced maidens must be shown,
Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown.
Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,
Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down:
Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed
Or Laïs of a thousand wooers sped.
I snatched her gown; being thin, the harm was small,
Yet striv’d she to be covered there withal;
And striving thus, as one that would be cast,
Betray’d herself and yielded at the last.
Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,
Not one wen in her body could I spy.
What arms and shoulders did I touch and see,
How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me?
How smooth a belly under her waist saw I?
How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh?
To leave the rest, all liked me passing well:
I cling’d her naked body, down she fell.
Judge you the rest: being tired she bade me kiss,
Jove send me more such afternoons as this.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
ENGLISH (1564-1593)
It lies not in our power to love or hate
From Hero and Leander
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is over-ruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should lose, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect.
The reason no man knows; let it suffice,
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight;
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
ENGLISH (1564-1593)
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-linèd slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
ENGLISH (1564-1593)
The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither—soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs, —
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
SIR WALTER RALEGH
ENGLISH (1552?-1618)
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 dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest 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.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
ENGLISH (1564-1616)
When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth,
sing hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
ENGLISH (1564-1616)
There is a garden in her face
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heavenly paradise is that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy,
Till ‘cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rosebuds filled with snow.
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
Till ‘cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still,
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threatening with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt, with eye or hand,
Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till ‘cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.
THOMAS CAMPION
ENGLISH (1567-1620)
Thrice Toss These Oaken Ashes
Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air,
Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair;
Then thrice-three times tie up this true love’s knot,
And murmur soft ‘She will or she will not.’
Go burn these poisonous weeds in yon blue fire,
These screech-owl’s feathers and this prickling brier,
This cypress gathered at a dead man’s grave,
That all thy fears and cares an end may have.
Then come, you Fairies! dance with me a round!
Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound! —
In vain are all the charms I can devise:
She hath an art to break them with her eyes.
THOMAS CAMPION
ENGLISH (1567-1620)
My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love
My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love,
And though the sager sort our deeds reprove,
Let us not weigh them. Heaven’s great lamps do dive
Into their west, and straight again revive;
But, soon as once set is our little light,
Then must we sleep one ever-during night.
If all would lead their lives in love like me,
Then bloody swords and armour should not be;
No drum nor trumpet peaceful sleeps should move,
Unless alarm came from the camp of love.
But fools do live and waste their little light,
And seek with pain their ever-during night.
When timely death my life and fortune ends,
Bartlett's Poems for Occasions Page 24
