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[theognis]

All In Love Is Fair

All is fair in love;
love's a crazy game;
Two people vow to stay
in love as one
they say

But all is changed with time;
the future no one can see;
the road you leave behind.
Ahead lies mystery.

But all is fair in love.
I had to go away.
A writer takes his pen
to write the words again;
All in love is fair.

All of fate's a chance;
it's either good or bad.
I tossed my coin to say
to say
in love with me you'd stay

but all in war is so cold

you either win or lose;
when all is put away
the losing side I'll play.

But all is fair in love;
I should have never
left your side.
A writer takes his pen
to write the words again
that all in love is fair;
A writer takes his pen
to write the words again

that all in love is fair.

-S. Wonder

 

[greenmountaineer]

POEM
Spring

BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

 

[butters]

^ now that was definitely worth reading with my coffee before leaving. thanks for posting it, gm

 

[greenmountaineer]

^ now that was definitely worth reading with my coffee before leaving. thanks for posting it, gm

I posted it because we had a snowstorm yesterday. I don't about elsewhere, but April can be "the cruelest month," at least in northern New England.

 

[RhymeFairy]

I think this is one of the most famous love poems and it still hits it's mark.

...


Sonnet 43 -
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways



How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.



~~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

[Rayven101]

And If... by Mihai Eminescu

And if the branches tap my pane
And the poplars whisper nightly,
It is to make me dream again
I hold you to me tightly.
And if the stars shine on the pond
And light its sombre shoal,
It is to quench my mind's despond
And flood with peace my soul.

And if the clouds their tresses part
And does the moon outblaze,
It is but to remind my heart
I long for you always.

one of my favs....

 

[RhymeFairy]

.....


In a Garden



The world is resting without sound or motion,
Behind the apple tree the sun goes down
Painting with fire the spires and the windows
In the elm-shaded town.

Beyond the calm Connecticut the hills lie
Silvered with haze as fruits still fresh with bloom,
The swallows weave in flight across the zenith
On an aerial loom.

Into the garden peace comes back with twilight,
Peace that since noon had left the purple phlox,
The heavy-headed asters, the late roses
And swaying hollyhocks.

For at high-noon I heard from this same garden
The far-off murmur as when many come;
Up from the village surged the blind and beating
Red music of a drum;

And the hysterical sharp fife that shattered
The brittle autumn air,
While they came, the young men marching
Past the village square. . . .

Across the calm Connecticut the hills change
To violet, the veils of dusk are deep --
Earth takes her children's many sorrows calmly
And stills herself to sleep.



~~ Sarah Teasdale






.....

 

[RhymeFairy]

...


Clenched Soul

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.



~~ Pablo Neruda

 

[greenmountaineer]

Day in Autumn

by Rainer Maria Rilke

After the summer's yield, Lord, it is time
to let your shadow lengthen on the sundials
and in the pastures let the rough winds fly.

As for the final fruits, coax them to roundness.
Direct on them two days of warmer light
to hale them golden toward their term, and harry
the last few drops of sweetness through the wine.

Whoever's homeless now, will build no shelter;
who lives alone will live indefinitely so,
waking up to read a little, draft long letters,
and, along the city's avenues,
fitfully wander, when the wild leaves loosen.