Erotic Love – Part 1

Deborah Abbott “All Day at Work”

All day at work
I carry the scent of you.
I touch my fingers to my lips.
I remember this morning
how your lips parted
as though there was some secret
you had been holding,
were finally ready to share.

The telephone rings.
I press my ear to the receiver,
just as I laid it last night
into the place between your breasts. […]

Diane Ackerman “Sweep Me Through Your Many-Chambered Heart”

Sweep me through your many-chambered heart
if you like, or leave me here, flushed
amid the sap-ooze and blossom: one more dish
in the banquet called April, or think me hard-
won all your days full of women. Weeks
later, till I felt your arms around
me like a shackle, heard all the sundown
wizardries the fired body speaks. […]

Thomas M. Adair & Matt Dennis “The Night We Called It a Day” (music)

There was a moon out in space
But a cloud drifted over its face
You kissed me and went on your way
The night we called it a day
I heard the song of the spheres
Like a minor lament in my ears
I hadn’t the heart left to pray
The night we called it a day
Soft through the dark
The hoot of an owl in the sky
Sad though, his song
No bluer was he than I
The moon went down, stars were gone
But the sun didn’t rise with the dawn
There wasn’t a thing left to say
The night we called it a day
Soft through the dark
The hoot of an owl in the sky
Sad though, his song
No bluer was he than I
The moon went down, stars were gone
But the sun didn’t rise with the dawn
There wasn’t a thing left to say
The night we called it a day

Thomas M. Adair & Matt Dennis “Will You Still be Mine?” (music)

Ever since my heart took such a tumble
I’ve wondered if your love for me would last
When landmarks fall and institutions crumble
Will it be just a memory of the past?

When lovers make no rendezvous
And stroll along Fifth Avenue
When this familiar world is through
Will you still be mine?

When cabs don’t drive around the park
No windows light the summer dark
When love has lost its secret spark
Will you still be mine?

When moonlight on the Hudson’s not romancy
And spring no longer turns a young man’s fancy

When glamour girls have lost their charms
And sirens just mean false alarms
When lovers heed no call to arms
Will you still be mine?

When Elsa’s parties are no fun
When FDR declines to run
When Eleanor of “My Day” is done
Will you still be mine?

When Garbo gives out interviews
And Harlem folk forget the blues
When G-Man Hoover’s out of clues
Will you still be mine?

A song of love will just remain a gay note
When we have finally paid our FHA note

When Barrymore first hides his face
And when Yehudi leaves a trace
When Crosby’s horses win a race
Will you still be mine?

Harold Adamson & Burton Lane “Everything I Have Is Yours”

Everything I have is yours, you’re a part of me
Everything I have is yours, my destiny
I would gladly give the sun to you
If the sun were only mine
I would gladly give the earth to you
And the stars that shine

Everything that I possess, I offer you
Let my dream of happiness come true
I’d be happy just to spend my life
Waiting at your beck and call
Everything I have is yours
My life, my all!

The more I’m with you, the more I can see
My love is yours alone
You came and captured a heart that was free
Now I’ve nothing left I call my own!

Everything I have is yours, for you’re a part of me
Everything I have is yours, my destiny
I would gladly give the sun to you
If the sun were only mine
I would gladly give the earth to you
And the stars that shine

Everything that I possess, I offer you
Let my dream of happiness come true
I’d be happy just to spend my life
Waiting at your beck and call
Everything I have is yours
My life, my all!

Harold Adamson & Jimmy McHugh “I Just Found Out About Love”

I just found out about love and I like it, I like it
I like what love has been doing to me
I hold you close in my arms and I like it, I like it
Oh, what a wonderful future I see

It’s a one time only,
It’s a lifetime deal
And I know it’s real,
I can tell by the way that I feel

Right now I’m livin’ it up and I like it, I like it
Hey you give me a clue
What’s love doing to you
Looks like you could be liking it too

(Musical Break)

I like it
Oh, what a wonderful future I see

It’s a one time only,
It’s a lifetime deal
And I know it’s real,
I can tell by the way that I feel

Right now I’m livin’ it up and I like it, I like it
Hey you give me a clue
What’s love doing to you
Looks like you could be liking it too

Hey you give me a clue
What’s love doing to you
Looks like you could be liking it too.

Harold Adamson & Mack Gordon & Vincent Youmans “Time On My Hands”

Time on my hands, you in my arms,
Nothing but love in view
Then if you fall, once and for all,
I’ll see my dreams come true.
Moments to spare for someone you care for,
One love affair for two,
With time on my hands and you in my arms,
And love in my heart all for you.

(Orchestral Interlude)

Moments to spare for someone you care for,
One love affair for two,
With time on my hands and you in my arms,
And love in my heart all for you.

Richard Adler & Jerry Ross “Hey There”

Lately when I’m in my room all by myself
In the solitary gloom I call to myself

Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes
Love never made a fool of you, you used to be too wise
Hey there, you on that high-flyin’ cloud
Though he won’t throw a crumb to you, you think some day he’ll come
to you

Better forget him, him with his nose in the air
He has you dancin’ on a string, break it and he won’t care

Won’t you take this advice I hand you like a mother
Or are you not seein’ things too clear
Are you too much in love to hear
Is it all goin’ in one ear and out the other

Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes (Are you talking to me?)
Love never made a fool of you (Not until now)
You used to be too wise (Yes, I was once)

Will you take this advice I hand you like a mother
Or am I not seein’ things too clear
Are you just too far gone to hear
Is it all goin’ in one ear and out the other

Richard Adler & Jerry J. Ross “There Once Was a Man”

There once was a man who loved a woman
She was the one he slew a dragon for
They say that nobody ever loved as much as he
But me
I love you more.

Tell me

And there once was a man who loved a woman
She was the one he gave his kingdom for
They say that nobody ever loved as much as he
But me
I love you more

My love is a giant, fierce and defiant
But how can I prove it to you?
Ain’t got no kingdom or dragon
To back up my braggin’
How can I show what I would do?

I only know there once was a man
Who loved a woman
She was the one he ate the apple for
They say that nobody ever loved as much as he
But me, I love you more

There once was a woman who loved a man
He was the one that she took poison for
They say that nobody ever loved as much as she
But me, I love you more

And there once was a woman who loved a man,
He was the one she swam the channel for
They say that nobody ever loved as much as she
But me, I love you more.

My love’s meteoric, it’s merely historic
A whirlwind, a cyclone on wheels
It rocks my whole solar plexus,
It’s bigger than Texas
I just can’t tell you how it feels
I only know there once was a woman
Who loved a man
Loved him enough to cause the Trojan War
They say that nobody ever loved as much as she
But me,
I love you more! more! more! more!

More than a hangman loves his rope
More than a dopefiend loves his dope
More than an Injun loves his scalps
More than a yodeler loves his alps
More More More more more!

There once was a man who loved a woman
There once was a woman who loved a man
She was the one he slew the dragon for
He was the one that she took poison for
They say that nobody ever loved as much as he she
But me, I love you more!
But me! I love you more!

Ahmed Pasha “Is there any heart not bleeding”

Is there any heart not bleeding
from the arrows of your glance?
Is there any life not sacrificed
to the bow of your brow?

A life spent without you is a life
lived in vain
If your true love is absent,
your own soul has fled

My beloved, with her glance,
she slays one thousand lovers
Yet that’s nothing compared
to the trouble she might cause!

That idol has covered her woman’s tresses,
but not abandoned her pagan ways
She has cut the belt around her delicate waist,
but not yet become a Muslim […]

Amaru “You with Your Beautiful Swaying Walk” tr. Henry Heifetz

“You with your beautiful swaying walk, where
are you going near midnight?”
“To my lover who is worth more than my own
breath to me.”
“But you’re so young. How can you be walking
alone without any fear?”
“Isn’t the god of love with his arrows
always by my side?”

Yehuda Amichai “Quick and Bitter”

The end was quick and bitter.
Slow and sweet was the time between us,
slow and sweet were the nights
when my hands did not touch one another in despair but in the love
of your body which came
between them.

And when I entered into you
it seemed then that great happiness
could be measured with precision
of sharp pain. Quick and bitter.

Slow and sweet were the nights.
Now is bitter and grinding as sand—
‘Let’s be sensible’ and similar curses.

And as we stray further from love
we multiply the words,
words and sentences so long and orderly.
Had we remained together
we could have become a silence.

Yehuda Amichai “To My Love, Combing Her Hair”

To my love, combing her hair
without a mirror, facing me,

a psalm: you’ve shampooed your hair, an entire
forest of pine trees is filled with yearning on your head.

Calmness inside and calmness outside
have hammered your face between them to a tranquil copper.

The pillow on your bed is your spare brain,
tucked under your neck for remembering and dreaming.

The earth is trembling beneath us, love.
Let’s lie fastened together, a double safety-lock.

A. R. Ammons “Like the hills under dusk you”

Like the hills under dusk you
fall away from the light:
you deepen: the green
light darkens
and you are nearly lost:
only so much light as
stars keep
manifests your face:
the total night in
myself raves
for the light along your lips.

Anacreon “Fragment 360”

Your face, boy, like a girl’s–
I follow you, you’ve no idea,
you’ll never know my soul’s the team
and you the chariot-driver

Ancient Sumerian Oral Tradition “Bridegroom, dear to my heart”

Bridegroom, dear to my heart,
Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet,
Lion, dear to my heart,
Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet.
…………………
Bridegroom, let me caress you,
My precious caress is more savory than honey,
In the bedchamber, honey-filled,
Let me enjoy your goodly beauty,
Lion, let me caress you,
My precious caress is more savory than honey.
Bridegroom, you have taken your pleasure of me,
Tell my mother, she will give you delicacies,
My father, he will give you gifts.
…………………
You, because you love me,
Give me pray of your caresses,
My lord god, my lord protector,
My SHU-SIN, who gladdens ENLIL’s heart,
Give my pray of your caresses

Ancient Sumerian Oral Tradition “The Word they had spoken”

The word they had spoken
Was a word of desire.
From the starting of the quarrel
Came the lovers’ desire.

The shepherd went to the royal house with cream.
Dumuzi went to the royal house with milk.
Before the door, he called out:
—Open the house, My Lady, open the house!

Inanna ran to Ningal, the mother who bore her.
Ningal counseled her daughter, saying:
—My child, the young man will be your father.
My daughter, the young man will be your mother.
He will treat you like a father.
He will care for you like a mother.
Open the house, My Lady, open the house! […]

Melih Cevdet Anday “VI. Love: The forest would start when you held my hand”

The forest would start when you held my hand,
Split it two like a fig.
We would run up, doubled over, breathless,
Tumbling with trout, pine needles
Hindered our speed. Do not let go of my hand. Do not let
Go of my hand … […]

Clement Andrews “Morn’s Recompense”

I woke at dawn–and you were lying there
Close to my side, yet turned away from me.
So when sleep caught us, you lay wearily
Within my arms: the fragrance of your hair
Like a narcotic drugged me into rest:
Though I would fain have foresworn sleep for joy,–
That you, quintessent Youth, my darling Boy,
Should lie abandoned on my throbbing breast. […]

Marion Angus “Invitation”

Lad, come kiss me
Whaur the twa burns rin.
Am I no’ sweet as honey,
Wild as gouden whin,

Slim as the rowan,
Lips like berries reid,
Fey as siller mune-floo’er
That sprang frae fairy seed?

Luve, come clasp me
Whaur the twa burns rin,-
A’but the white soul o’ me
That ye can never win.

Guillaume Apollinaire “My darling little Lou how I love you”

Mon Lou ma chérie Je t’envoie aujourd’hui la première pervenche Ici dans la forêt on a organisé des luttes entre les hommes Ils s’ennuient d’être tout seuls sans femme faut bien les amuser le dimanche Depuis si longtemps qu’ils sont loin de tout ils savent à peine parler Et parfois je suis tenté de leur montrer ton portrait pour que ces jeunes mâles Réapprennent en voyant en voyant ta photo Ce que c’est que la beauté Mais cela c’est pour moi c’est pour moi seul Moi seul ai droit de parler à ce portrait qui pâlit À ce portrait qui s’efface Je le regarde parfois longtemps une heure deux heures Et je regarde aussi les 2 petits portraits miraculeux Mon cœur La bataille des aéros dure toujours La nuit est venue Quelle triste chanson font dans les nuits profondes Les obus qui tournoient comme de petits mondes M’aimes-tu donc mon cœur et mon âme bien née Veut-elle du laurier dont ma tête est ornée J’y joindrai bien aussi de ces beaux myrtes verts Couronne des amants qui ne sont pas pervers En attendant voici que le chêne me donne La guerrière couronne Et quand te reverrai-je ô Lou ma bien-aimée Reverrai-je Paris et sa pâle lumière Trembler les soirs de brume autour des réverbères Reverrai-je Paris et les sourires sous les voilettes Les petits pieds rapides des femmes inconnues La tour de Saint-Germain-des-Prés La fontaine du Luxembourg Et toi mon adorée mon unique adorée Toi mon très cher amour Je t’aime tout plein tout gentiment Mon joli ptit Lou et je t’embrasse

My darling little Lou how I love you My darling little throbbing star how I love you Body so delightfully bouncy how I love you Vulva clutching my nuts cracked open how I love you Left breast so pink & so wicked how I love you Right breast so tingly & so pink how I love you Right nipple champagne colored still no champagne how I love you Left nipple like a bump on a newborn calf’s skull how I love you Clitoris puffed up from constant rubbing how I love you Spry little buttocks pushing wildly back & forth how I love you Belly button like a hollow dark moon how I love you Body hair like a forest in winter how I love you Armpits with fluff like a swan just hatched how I love you Slope of shoulders innocent & loving how I love you Round artistical thighs like columns in old temples how I love you Ears fretted like Mexican beads how I love you Hair soaked with blood of all our loves how I love you Smart little feet that arch up tight how I love you Small of back to ride on hard o powered loins how I love you Waist that has never known corset pliable waist how I love you Back so wonderfully made that bends over for me how I love you Mouth my delights o my nectar how I love you Your incredible gaze your star-gaze how I love you Hands whose movements I crave how I love you Truly aristocratic nose how I love you Swaying & dancing little walk how I love you O my darling little Lou how I love you love you love you

Marcus Argentarius “I can’t bear to watch your hips” tr. Sam Hamill

I can’t bear to watch your hips
as you walk away.
Untie me!
Your thin dress leaves you
nearly naked. You tease
and tease.
But one suggestion:
dress me, too, in gauze
so you can see
this shadow of my erection.

Rae Armantrout “Language of Love”

He stroked her carapace
with his claw.
They had developed a code
in which each word appeared to refer
to some abdicated function. […]

Rae Armantrout “The Plan”

We had planned this meeting
in advance,
how we’d address each other,
how we’d stand
or kneel.
Thus our intentions
are different
from our bodies,
something extra,
though transparent
like a negligee. […]

Craig Arnold “My Love Is Sick”

My love is sick—she has begun to turn
inward upon herself—body peeled back
a rubber glove off of a stranger hand
seen things growing so many sharp edges […]

Matthew Arnold “To Marguerite: Continued”

Yes! in the sea of life enisled,
With echoing straits between us thrown,
Dotting the shoreless watery wild,
We mortal millions live alone.
The islands feel the enclasping flow,
And then their endless bounds they know.

But when the moon their hollows lights,
And they are swept by balms of spring,
And in their glens, on starry nights,
The nightingales divinely sing;
And lovely notes, from shore to shore,
Across the sounds and channels pour—

Oh! then a longing like despair
Is to their farthest caverns sent;
For surely once, they feel, we were
Parts of a single continent!
Now round us spreads the watery plain—
Oh might our marges meet again!

Who order’d, that their longing’s fire
Should be, as soon as kindled, cool’d?
Who renders vain their deep desire?—
A God, a God their severance ruled!
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumb’d, salt, estranging sea.

Asclepiades “Think how unspeakably sweet”

Think how unspeakably sweet
the taste of snow at midsummer,
how sweet a kind spring breeze
after the gales of winter.

But as we all discover,
nothing’s quite as sweet
as one large cloak
wrapped around two lovers

John Ashberry “My Erotic Double”

We are afloat
On our dreams as on a barge made of ice,
Shot through with questions and fissures of starlight
That keep us awake, thinking about the dreams
As they are happening. Some occurrence. You said it. […]

W. H. Auden “As I walked Out One Evening”

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
‘Love has no ending.

‘I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,

‘I’ll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

‘The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.’

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
‘O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

‘In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

‘In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

‘Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver’s brilliant bow.

‘O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you’ve missed.

‘The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

‘Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

‘O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

‘O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.’

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

Baki “Oh Beloved, Since the Origin We Have Been”

Ezelden şâh-ı aşkın bende-i fermânıyüz cânâ Mahabbet mülkünün sultânı âlî-şânıyüz cânâ Sehâb-ı lutfuñ âbın teşne-dillerden dirîğ itme Bu deştüñ bağrı yanmış lâle-i Nu’mânıyüz cânâ Zemâne bizde cevher sezdiğiyçün dil-hırâş eyler Anuñçün bağrımız hûndur ma’ârif kânıyüz câna Mükedder kılmasun gerd-i küdûret çeşme-i cânı Bilürsün âb-ı rûy-i milket-i Osmâniyüz cânâ Cihânı câm-ı nazmum şi’r-i Bâkî gibi devr eyler Bu bezmüñ şimdi biz de Câmî-i devrânıyüz cânâ

Oh beloved, since the origin we have been the slaves of the shah of love Oh beloved, we are the famed sultan of the heart’s domain We are the poppies of this wasteland whose hearts are burnt black with grief Oh beloved, be generous as the cloud, don’t withhold your water from the thirsty heart Fate saw we had a jewel inside us and tore our hearts apart Oh beloved, it left our bodies bleeding, mined of the precious knowledge of love Don’t let the dust of sadness cloud the waters of the fountain of your soul Oh beloved, for, us faces shine bright with pride across the Ottoman lands The poems of Baki go around the world like the full cup at the gathering of friends Oh beloved, we are the cup, and we are the cupbearer of this turning age

Joseph B. Ball “And This is So” from Passionate hearts: the poetry of sexual love

I have lain rested in you
and felt the constancy of ebbing heat
raised in flesh passion. […]

Carol Jane Bangs “Touching Each Other’s Surfaces”

Skin meeting skin, we want to think
we know each other scientifically;
we want to believe
it is objective knowledge
gives this conviction of intimacy,
makes us say it feels so right.
That mole below your shoulder blade,
the soft hair over my thighs—
we examine our bodies with the precision
known only to lovers or surgeons,
all those whose profession is explication,
who have to believe their own words.
And yet, having memorized each turning,
each place where bone strains or bends,
each hollow, each hair, each failure of form,
we still encounter that stubborn wall,
that barrier which hides an infinite vastness
the most sincere gesture can’t find.
Nor does emotion take us further
than the shared heat of our bodies
aware of themselves,
the flattery of multiple desires.
We rest in each other’s arms unexplained
by these currents of feeling rushing past
like ripples over a pool of water
whose substance never changes,
reflecting each wave, each ribboned crossing,
without being really moved.
We search each other’s eyes so long
beyond our own reflections,
finding only the black centers,
the immeasurable interior we’ll
never reach with candle,
never plumb with love.
Perhaps it is just this ignorance,
this absence of certainty, lack of clear view,
more than anything, brings us together,
draws us into and through each other
to the unknown inside us all,
that gray space from which
what we know of ourselves
emerges briefly, casts a transient
shadow across the earth
and learns to believe in itself just enough
to believe in some one else.

Marshall Barer & David Collin Ross “Beyond Compare”

How do I love thee
Let me count the ways
One, two, three, four, five millions
This will take me days
and days
and days

Shall I, my love, compare thee to
Baba au rhum or summer’s day?
Handel chorale or Malibu?
Rubens, Ravel or Mel Torme?
Is there a better metaphor
For how I melt
Beholding you?
Or shall the glow I so adore
Only be felt
Enfolding you?
Racking my brain for fitting praise!
Seeking in vain the perfect phrase!
Poring through piles of poems and plays!
Haunting the aisles at Doubleday’s!
I might convey
The state I’m in
If I could play
The mandolin;
Since I cannot, I’ll just declare
You are beyond compare
And leave it right there.

Who could compose
Your valentine?
Not Billy Rose,
Nor Gertrude Stein.
Only a “Hart” like Larry might
Tell you what burns in mine tonight.

That which of which there’s only one
Simply defines comparison
So I repeat in sweet despair
You’re beyond Compare

Marshall Barer “On Such a Night as This”

There’s something in the air that you can sense
Elusive but unbearably intense
The stars are hanging there in bright suspense
As they prepare to light immense events

On such a night as this
Did young Lorenzo swear
He’d gladly swim a thousand seas
To please his lady fair?

On such a night
Did Wagner write
‘The Evening Star’
‘Neath such a moon
Stood Lorna Doone
And Lochinvar

On such a night as this
Did gentle Juliet cry
“Forget that I’m a Capulet
And set me by thy side”?

Hurry, my sweet
Wings on your feet
You mustn’t miss
The sheer delight
On such a night
As this
‘Twas such a night as this
When Judy Garland swore
“I just adore him
How can I ignore the boy next door?”

On such a night
Did Gershwin write
His Rhapsody?
On such a set
Did young Jeanette
Sing, ‘Lover come back to me’?

On such a night as this
Did Robert Taylor sigh
As Garbo gave a little cough
And wandered off to die?

Lately I find
I’m disinclined
To reminisce
Except, perhaps
On such a night as this

George Barker “O Golden Fleece”

O Golden Fleece she is where she lies tonight
Trammelled in her sheets like midsummer on a bed,
Kisses like moths flitter over her bright
Mouth, and, as she turns her head,
I feel all space move close to give her right

Where her hand, like a bird on the branch of her arm,
Droops its wings over the bedside as she sleeps,
There the air perpetually remains warm
Since, nested, her hand rested there. And she keeps
Under her green thumb life like a growing poem

My nine-tiered tigress in the cage of sex
I feed with meat that you tear from my side
To crown your nine months with the paradox
The love that kisses with a homicide
In robes of generation resurrects

The bride who rides the hymeneal waterfall
Spawning all possibles in her pools of surplus,
Whom the tram rapes going into a tunnel,
The imperial multiplicator nothing can nonplus
My mother Nature is the origin of it all

At Pharaoh’s Feast and in the family cupboard,
Gay corpse, bright skeleton, and the fly in amber,
She sits with her laws like antlers from her forehead
Enmeshing everyone, with flowers and thunder
Adorning the head that destiny never worried

Barnabe Barnes “Jove, for Europa’s love took shape of bull”

Jove for Europa’s love took shape of bull,
And for Calisto played Diana’s part,
And in a golden shower he filled full
The lap of Danae, with celestial art.
Would I were changed but to my mistress’ gloves,
That those white lovely fingers I might hide;
That I might kiss those hands which mine heart loves!
Or else that chain of pearl (her neck’s vain pride)
Made proud with her neck’s veins, that I might fold
About that lovely neck, and her paps tickle!
Or her to compass, like a belt of gold!
Or that sweet wine, which down her throat doth trickle.
To kiss her lips and lie next at her heart.
Run through her veins, and pass by pleasure’s part!

Richard Barnfield “But if thou wilt not pittie my complaint”

But if thou wilt not pittie my complaint,
My teares, nor vowes, nor oathes, made to thy beautie:
What shall I do but languish, die, or faint,
Since thou dost scorne my teares, and my soules duetie:
And teares contemned, vowes and oaths must faile,
And where teares cannot, nothing can prevaile.

Richard Barnfield “Daphnis to Ganymede”

If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home,
My sheepcote shall be strowed with new greene rushes;
Weele haunt the trembling prickets as they rome
About the fields, along the hauthorne bushes;
I have a pie-bald curre to hunt the hare,
So we will live with daintie forrest fare.

Richard Barnfield “Oh would to God he would but pitty mee”

Oh would to God he would but pitty mee,
That love him more than any mortall wight!
Then he and I with love would soone agree,
That now cannot abide his sutors sight.
O would to God, so I might have my fee,
My lips were honey, and thy mouth a bee. […]

Richard Barnfield “Scarce had the morning starre hid from the light”

Scarce had the morning star hid from the light
Heaven’s crimson canopy with stars bespangled,
But I began to rue th’unhappy sight
Of that fair boy that had my heart entangled;
Cursing the time, the place, the sense, the sin;
I came, I saw, I viewed, I slipped in.

If it be sin to love a sweet-faced boy
(Whose amber locks trussed up in golden trammels
Dangle adown his lovely cheeks with joy,
When pearl and flowers his fair hair enamels)
If it be sin to love a lovely lad,
Oh then sin I, for whom my soul is sad.

His ivory-white and alabaster skin
Is stained throughout with rare vermilion red,
Whose twinkling starry lights do never blin
To shine on lovely Venus, beauty’s bed;
But as the lily and the blushing rose,
So white and red on him in order grows.

Upon a time the nymphs bestirred themselves
To try who could his beauty soonest win;
But he accounted them but all as elves,
Except it were the fair Queen Gwendolen:
Her he embraced, of her he was beloved,
With plaints he proved, and with tears he moved.

But her an old man had been suitor to,
That in his age began to dote again.
Her would he often pray, and often woo,
When through old age enfeebled was his brain.
But she before had loved a lusty youth
That now was dead, the cause of all her ruth.

And thus it happened. Death and Cupid met
Upon a time at swilling Bacchus’ house,
Where dainty cates upon the board were set
And goblets full of wine to drink carouse:
Where Love and Death did love the liquor so
That out they fall and to the fray they go.

And having both their quivers at their back
Filled full of arrows; th’one of fatal steel,
The other all of gold; Death’s shaft was black,
But Love’s was yellow: Fortune turned her wheel;
And from Death’s quiver fell a fatal shaft,
That under Cupid by the wind was waft.

And at the same time by ill hap there fell
Another arrow out of Cupid’s quiver;
The which was carried by the wind at will,
And under Death the amorous shaft did shiver.
They being parted, Love took up Death’s dart,
And Death took up Love’s arrow, for his part.

Thus as they wandered both about the world,
At last Death met with one of feeble age;
Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurled
The unknown arrow, with a furious rage,
Thinking to strike him dead with Death’s black dart,
But he (alas) with Love did wound his heart.

This was the doting fool, this was the man
That loved fair Gwendolena Queen of Beauty.
She cannot shake him off, do what she can,
For he hath vowed to her his soul’s last duty,
Making him trim upon the holy-days,
And crowns his love with garlands made of bays.

Now doth he stroke his beard, and now (again)
He wipes the drivel from his filthy chin;
Now offers he a kiss; but high disdain
Will not permit her heart to pity him:
Her heart more hard than adamant or steel,
Her heart more changeable than Fortune’s wheel.

But leave we him in love (up to the ears)
And tell how Love behaved himself abroad;
Who seeing one that mourned still in tears
(A young man groaning under love’s great load)
Thinking to ease his burden, rid his pains:
For men have grief as long as life remains.

Alas the while, that unawares he drew
The fatal shaft that Death had dropped before;
By which deceit great harm did then issue,
Staining his face with blood and filthy gore.
His face, that was to Gwendolen more dear
Than love of lords, of any lordly peer.

This was that fair and beautiful young man
Whom Gwendolena so lamented for;
This is that love whom she doth curse and ban,
Because she doth that dismal chance abhor;
And if it were not for his mother’s sake,
Even Ganymede himself she would forsake.

Oh would she would forsake my Ganymede,
Whose sugared love is full of sweet delight,
Upon whose forehead you may plainly read
Love’s pleasure, graved in ivory tablets bright;
In whose fair eye-balls you may clearly see
Base love still stained with foul indignity.

Oh would to God he would but pity me,
That love him more than any mortal wight:
Then he and I with love would soon agree,
That now cannot abide his suitors’ sight.
O would to God (so I might have my fee)
My lips were honey, and thy mouth a bee.

Then shouldst thou suck my sweet and my fair flower
That now is ripe and full of honey-berries;
Then would I lead thee to my pleasant bower
Filled full of grapes, of mulberries, and cherries;
Then shouldst thou be my wasp or else my bee,
I would thy hive, and thou my honey be.

I would put amber bracelets on thy wrests,
Crownets of pearl about thy naked arms;
And when thou sit’st at swilling Bacchus’ feasts,
My lips with charms should save thee from all harms;
And when in sleep thou took’st thy chiefest pleasure,

Mine eyes should gaze upon thine eye-lids’ treasure.

And every morn by dawning of the day,
When Phoebus riseth with a blushing face,
Silvanus’ chapel-clerks shall chaunt a lay,
And play thee hunts-up in thy resting place;
My cote thy chamber, my bosom thy bed,
Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head.

And when it pleaseth thee to walk abroad
(Abroad into the fields to take fresh air),
The meads with Flora’s treasure should be strowed
(The mantled meadows and the fields so fair),
And by a silver well, with golden sands,
I’ll sit me down, and wash thine ivory hands.

And in the sweltering heat of summer time,
I would make cabinets for thee, my love:
Sweet-smelling arbours made of eglantine
Should be thy shrine, and I would be thy dove.
Cool cabinets of fresh green laurel boughs
Should shadow us, o’er-set with thick-set yews.

Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs
Within the crystal of a pearl-bright brook,
Paved with the dainty pebbles to the brims,
Or clear, wherein thyself thyself mayst look,
We’ll go to Ladon, whose still trickling noise
Will lull thee fast sleep amidst thy joys.

Or if thou’lt go unto the river side
To angle for the sweet fresh-water fish,
Armed with thy implements that will abide
(Thy rod, hook, line) to take a dainty dish;
Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silk,
Thy hooks of silver, and thy baits of milk.

Or if thou lov’st to hear sweet melody,
Or pipe a round upon an oaten reed,
Or make thyself glad with some mirthful glee,
Or play them music whilst thy flock doth feed;
To Pan’s own pipe I’ll help my lovely lad,
Pan’s golden pipe which he of Syrinx had.

Or if thou dar’st to climb the highest trees
For apples, cherries, medlars, pears, or plums,
Nuts, walnuts, filberts, chestnuts, services,
The hoary peach, when snowy winter comes;
I have fine orchards full of mellowed fruit,
Which I will give thee to obtain my suit.

Not proud Alcinous himself can vaunt
Of goodlier orchards or of braver trees
Than I have planted; yet thou wilt not grant
My simple suit; but like the honey bees
Thou suck’st the flower till all the sweet be gone,
And lov’st me for my coin till I have none.

Leave Gwendolen (sweet-heart). Though she is fair
Yet is she light; not light in virtue shining,
But light in her behaviour, to impair
Her honour in her chastity’s declining.
Trust not her tears, for they can wantonise,
When tears in pearl are trickling from her eyes.

If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home,
My sheep-cote shall be strowed with new green rushes;
We’ll haunt the trembling prickets as they roam
About the fields, along the hawthorn bushes.
I have a piebald cur to hunt the hare:
So we will live with dainty forest fare.

Nay more than this, I have a garden-plot,
Wherein there wants nor herbs, nor roots, nor flowers
(Flowers to smell, roots to eat, herbs for the pot),
And dainty shelters when the welkin lowers:
Sweet-smelling beds of lilies and of roses,
Which rosemary banks and lavender encloses.

There grows the gillyflower, the mint, the daisy
(Both red and white), the blue-veined violet;
The purple hyacinth, the spike to please thee;
The scarlet-dyed carnation bleeding yet;
The sage, the savory, and sweet marjoram,
Hyssop, thyme, and eye-bright, good for the blind and dumb.

The pink, the primrose, cowslip, and daffadilly,
The harebell blue, the crimson columbine,
Sage, lettuce, parsley, and the milk-white lily,
The rose, and speckled flowers called sops-in-wine,
Fine pretty king-cups, and the yellow boots
That grows by rivers and by shallow brooks.

And many thousand moe I cannot name
Of herbs and flowers that in gardens grow
I have for thee; and coneys that be tame,
Young rabbits, white as swan and black as crow,
Some speckled here and there with dainty spots;
And more I have two milch and milk-white goats.

All these, and more, I’ll give thee for thy love,
If these, and more, may tice thy love away.
I have a pigeon-house, in it a dove,
Which I love more than mortal tongue can say.
And last of all, I’ll give thee a little lamb
To play withal, new-weaned from her dam.

But if thou wilt not pity my complaint,
My tears, nor vows, nor oaths, made to thy beauty,
What shall I do? But languish, die, or faint,
Since thou dost scorn my tears and my soul’s duty;
And tears contemned, vows and oaths must fail,
For where tears cannot, nothing cannot prevail.

Compare the love of fair Queen Gwendolin
With mine, and thou shalt see how she doth love thee:
I love thee for thy qualities divine,
But she doth love another swain above thee.
I love thee for thy gifts, she for her pleasure;
I for thy virtue, she for beauty’s treasure.

And always (I am sure) it cannot last,
But sometime Nature will deny those dimples:
Instead of beauty (when thy blossom’s past)
Thy face will be deformed, full of wrinkles.
Then she that loved thee for thy beauty’s sake,
When age draws on, thy love will soon forsake.

But I that loved thee for thy gifts divine,
In the December of thy beauty’s waning,
Will still admire, with joy, those lovely eyne,
That now behold me with their beauties baning.
Though January will never come again,
Yet April years will come in showers of rain.

When will my May come, that I may embrace thee?
When will the hour be of my soul’s joying?
Why dost thou seek in mirth still to disgrace me?
Whose mirth’s my health, whose grief’s my heart’s annoying.
Thy bane my bale, thy bliss my blessedness,
Thy ill my hell, thy weal my welfare is.

Thus do I honour thee that love thee so,
And love thee so, that so do honour thee
Much more than any mortal man doth know
Or can discern by love or jealousy.
But if that thou disdain’st my loving ever,
Oh happy I, if I had loved never.

Richard Barnfield “Sporting at fancie, setting light by love”

Sporting at fancie, setting light by love,
There came a theefe, and stole away my heart,
(And therefore rob’d me of my chiefest part)
Yet cannot Reason him a felon prove.
For why his beauty (my hearts thiefe) affirmeth,
Piercing no skin (the bodies fensive wall)
And having leave, and free consent withall,
Himselfe not guilty, from love guilty tearmeth,
Conscience the Judge, twelve Reasons are the Jurie,
They finde mine eies the beutie t’ have let in,
And on this verdict given, agreed they bin,
Wherefore, because his beauty did allure yee,
Your Doome is this; in teares still to be drowned,
When his faire forehead with disdain is frowned.

Richard Barnfield “Sweet Corrall lips, where Nature’s treasure lies”

Sweet Corrall lips, where Nature’s treasure lies,
The balme of blisse, the soveraigne salve of sorrow,
The secret touch of loves heart-burning arrow,
Come quench my thirst or els poor Daphnis dies.
One night I dream’d (alas twas but a Dreame)
That I did feele the sweetnes of the same,
Where-with inspir’d, I young againe became,
And from my heart a spring of blood did streame,
But when I wak’t, I found it nothing so,
Save that my limbs (me thought) did waxe more strong
And I more lusty far, and far more yong.
This gift on him rich Nature did bestow.
Then if in dreaming so, I so did speede,
What should I doe, if I did so indeede?

Richard Barnfield “Thus was my love, thus was my Ganymede”

Thus was my love, thus was my Ganymede
(Heaven’s joy, world’ wonder, nature’s fairest work,
In whose aspect hope and despair do lurk),
Made of pure blood in whitest snow shed,
And for sweet Venus only formed his face,
And his each member delicately framed,
And last of all faire “Ganymed” him named,
His limbs (as their creatix) her embrace.
But as for his pure, spotless, virtuous mind,
Because it sprung of chaste Diana’s blood
(Goddess of maids, directress of all good),
It wholly is to chastity inclined.
And thus it is: as far as I can prove,
He loves to be beloved, but not to love.

Richard Barnfield “When will my May come, that I may embrace thee?”

When will my May come, that I may embrace thee?
When will the hower be of my soules joying?
Why dost thou seeke in mirth still to disgrace mee?
Whose mirth’s my health, whose griefe’s my hearts annoying:
Thy bane my bale, thy blisse my blessedness,
Thy ill my hell, thy weale my welfare is.

Thus doo I honour thee that I love thee so,
And love thee so, that so do honour thee
Much more than anie mortall man doth know,
Or can discerne by love or jealozie:
But if that thou disdainst my loving ever,
Oh happie I, if I had loved never!

Charles Baudelaire “The Snake That Dances”

Que j’aime voir, chère indolente, De ton corps si beau, Comme une étoffe vacillante, Miroiter la peau! Sur ta chevelure profonde Aux âcres parfums, Mer odorante et vagabonde Aux flots bleus et bruns, Comme un navire qui s’éveille Au vent du matin, Mon âme rêveuse appareille Pour un ciel lointain. Tes yeux, où rien ne se révèle De doux ni d’amer, Sont deux bijoux froids où se mêle L’or avec le fer. À te voir marcher en cadence, Belle d’abandon, On dirait un serpent qui danse Au bout d’un bâton. Sous le fardeau de ta paresse Ta tête d’enfant Se balance avec la mollesse D’un jeune éléphant, Et ton corps se penche et s’allonge Comme un fin vaisseau Qui roule bord sur bord et plonge Ses vergues dans l’eau. Comme un flot grossi par la fonte Des glaciers grondants, Quand l’eau de ta bouche remonte Au bord de tes dents, Je crois boire un vin de Bohême, Amer et vainqueur, Un ciel liquide qui parsème D’étoiles mon coeur!

Indolent darling, how I love To see the skin Of your body so beautiful Shimmer like silk! Upon your heavy head of hair With its acrid scents, Adventurous, odorant sea With blue and brown waves, Like a vessel that awakens To the morning wind, My dreamy soul sets sail For a distant sky. Your eyes where nothing is revealed Of bitter or sweet, Are two cold jewels where are mingled Iron and gold. To see you walking in cadence With fine abandon, One would say a snake which dances On the end of a staff. Under the weight of indolence Your child-like head sways Gently to and fro like the head Of a young elephant, And your body stretches and leans Like a slender ship That rolls from side to side and dips Its yards in the sea. Like a stream swollen by the thaw Of rumbling glaciers, When the water of your mouth rises To the edge of your teeth, It seems I drink Bohemian wine, Bitter and conquering, A liquid sky that scatters Stars in my heart!

Aphra Behn “On a Juniper-Tree, Cut Down to Make Busks”

Whilst happy I Triumphant stood,
The Pride and Glory of the Wood;
My Aromatick Boughs and Fruit,
Did with all other Trees dispute.
Had right by Nature to excel,
In pleasing both the tast and smell:
But to the touch I must confess,
Bore an Ungrateful Sullenness.
My Wealth, like bashful Virgins, I
Yielded with some Reluctancy;
For which my vallue should be more,
Not giving easily my store.
My verdant Branches all the year
Did an Eternal Beauty wear;
Did ever young and gay appear.
Nor needed any tribute pay,
For bounties from the God of Day:
Nor do I hold Supremacy,
(In all the Wood) o’er every Tree.
But even those too of my own Race,
That grow not in this happy place.
But that in which I glory most,
And do my self with Reason boast,
Beneath my shade the other day,
Young Philocles and Cloris lay,
Upon my Root she lean’d her head,
And where I grew, he made their Bed:
Whilst I the Canopy more largely spread.
Their trembling Limbs did gently press,
The kind supporting yielding Grass:
Ne’er half so blest as now, to bear
A Swain so Young, a Nimph so fair:
My Grateful Shade I kindly lent,
And every aiding Bough I bent
So low, as sometimes had the blisse
To rob the Shepherd of a kiss,
Whilst he in Pleasures far above
The Sence of that degree of Love:
Permitted every stealth I made,
Unjealous of his Rival Shade.
I saw ’em kindle to desire,
Whilst with soft sighs they blew the fire:
Saw the approaches of their joy,
He growing more fierce, and she less Coy,
Saw how they mingled melting Rays,
Exchanging Love a thousand ways.
Kind was the force on every side,
Her new desire she could not hide:
Nor wou’d the Shepherd be deny’d.
Impatient he waits no consent
But what she gave by Languishment,
The blessed Minute he pursu’d;
[Whilst Love , her fear, and shame subdu’d;]
And now transported in his Arms,
Yeilds to the Conqueror all her Charmes,
His panting Breast, to hers now join’d,
They feast on Raptures unconfin’d;
Vast and Luxuriant, such as prove
The immortality of Love.
For who but a Divinitie,
Could mingle Souls to that Degree;
And melt ’em into Extasie.
Now like the Phenix , both Expire,
While from the Ashes of their fire,
Sprung up a new, and soft desire.
Like Charmers, thrice they did invoke,
The God, and thrice new vigor took.
Nor had thy Mysterie ended there,
But Cloris reassum’d her fear,
And chid the Swain, for having prest,
What she alas wou’d not resist:
Whilst he in whom Loves sacred flame,
Before and after was the same,
Fondly implor’d she wou’d forget
A fault, which he wou’d yet repeat.
From Active Joyes with some they hast,
To a Reflexion on the past;
A thousand times my Covert bless,
That did secure their Happiness:
Their Gratitude to every Tree
They pay, but most to happy me;
The Shepherdess my Bark carest,
Whilst he my Root, Love’s Pillow, kist;
And did with sighs, their Fate deplore,
Since I must shelter them no more;
And if before my Joyes were such,
In having heard, and seen too much,
My Grief must be as great and high,
When all abandon’d I shall be,
Doom’d to a silent Destinie.
No more the Charming strife to hear,
The Shepherds Vows, the Virgins fear:
No more a joyful looker on,
Whilst Loves soft Battel’s lost and won.
With grief I bow’d my murmering Head,
And all my Christal Dew I shed.
Which did in Cloris Pity move,
( Cloris whose Soul is made of Love;)
She cut me down, and did translate,
My being to a happier state.
No Martyr for Religion di’d
With half that Unconsidering Pride;
My top was on that Altar laid,
Where Love his softest Offerings paid:
And was as fragrant Incense burn’d,
My body into Busks was turn’d:
Where I still guard the Sacred Store,
And of Loves Temple keep the Door.

Aphra Behn “Song”: “I led my Silvia to a grove”

I led my Silvia to a Grove,
Where all the Boughs did shade us
The Sun it self, though it had strove
It could not have betray’d us.
The place secur’d from humane eyes
No other fear alows,
But when the Winds do gently rise;
And kiss the yeilding Boughs.

Down there we sate upon the Moss,
And did begin to play,
A thousand wanton tricks to pass,
The heat of all the day.
A many kisses I did give,
And she return’d the same,
Which made her willing to receive;
That which I dare not name.

My greedy eyes no ayds requir’d,
To tell their amorous Tale,
On her that was already fir’d:
‘Twas easie to prevail.
I did but kiss and claspe her round,
[Whilst] they my thoughts exprest,
And laid her gently on the ground:
Oh! who can guess the rest.

Aphra Behn “Love Armed”

Song from Abdelazar
Love in Fantastic Triumph sat,
Whilst Bleeding Hearts around him flowed,
For whom Fresh pains he did Create,
And strange Tyrannic power he showed;
From thy Bright Eyes he took his fire,
Which round about, in sport he hurled;
But ’twas from mine he took desire
Enough to undo the Amorous World.

From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his Pride and Cruelty;
From me his Languishments and Fears,
And every Killing Dart from thee;
Thus thou and I, the God have armed,
And set him up a Deity;
But my poor Heart alone is harmed,
Whilst thine the Victor is, and free.

Aphra Behn “To the Fair Clorinda, Who Made Love to Me, Imagin’d [or Imagined] More Than Woman”

WHO MADE LOVE TO ME,
IMAGIN’D MORE THAN WOMAN

Fair lovely Maid, or if that Title be
Too weak, too Feminine for Nobler thee,
Permit a Name that more Approaches Truth:
And let me call thee, Lovely Charming Youth.
This last will justifie my soft complainte,
While that may serve to lessen my constraint;
And without Blushes I the Youth persue,
When so much beauteous Woman is in view
Against thy Charms we struggle but in vain
With thy deluding Form thou giv’st us pain,
While the bright Nymph betrays us to the Swain.
In pity to our Sex sure thou wer’t sent,
That we might Love, and yet be Innocent:
For sure no Crime with thee we can commit;
Or if we shou’d – thy Form excuses it.
For who, that gathers fairest Flowers believes
A Snake lies hid beneath the Fragrant Leaves.

Thou beauteous Wonder of a different kind,
Soft Cloris with the dear Alexis join’d;
When e’er the Manly part of thee, wou’d plead
Thou tempts us with the Image of the Maid,
While we the noblest Passions do extend
The Love to Hermes, Aphrodite the Friend.

Bennie Benjamin, George Weiss, & Frankie Carle “Oh! What It Seemed to Be” (music)

It was just a neighborhood dance
That’s all that it was
But, oh, what it seemed to be

It was like a masquerade ball
With costumes and all
‘Cause you were at the dance with me

It was just a ride on a train
That’s all that it was
But, oh, what it seemed to be

It was like a trip to the stars
To venus and mars
‘Cause you were on the train with me

And when I kissed you, Darling
It was more than just a thrill for me
It was the promise, Darling
Of the things that fate had willed for me

It was just a wedding in june
That’s all that it was
But, oh, what it seemed to be

It was like a royal affair
With everyone there
‘Cause you said “Yes, I do” to me

Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman, & Michel Jean Legrand “Summer Me, Winter Me” (music)

Summer me, winter me
And with your kisses
Morning me, evening me
And as the world slips
Far away, star away
Forever me with love
Wonder me, wander me
Then by a fire
Pleasure me, peaceful me
And in the silence
Quietly, whisper me
Forever me with love
Forever me with love
And every day I’ll
Gentle you, tender you
And oh, the way I’ll
Velvet you, clover you
I’ll wrap you up and
Ribbon you, rainbow you
And shower you with shine!
Suddenly, magically
We found each other
There we were, here we are
I plan to let you
Happy me, summer me
Winter me, always be mine!

Irving Berlin “Always”

Everything went wrong
And the whole day long
I’d feel so blue
For the longest while
I’d forget to smile
Then I met you
Now that my blue days have passed
Now that I’ve found you at last –
(end intro)

I’ll be loving you Always
With a love that’s true Always
When the things you’ve planned
Need a helping hand
I will understand Always

Always

Days may not be fair Always
That’s when I’ll be there Always
Not for just an hour
Not for just a day
Not for just a year
But Always

Irving Berlin “Say It Isn’t So” (music)

You can’t stop people from talking
And they’re talking, my dear!
And the things they’re saying
Fill my heart with fear!

Now I could never believe them
When they say you’re untrue
I know that they’re mistaken
Still I want to hear it from you!

Say it isnt so
Say it isnt so
Everyone is saying you dont love me
Say it isnt so!

Everywhere I go
Everyone I know
Whispers that youre growing tired of me
Say it isnt so!

People say that you
Found somebody new
And it wont be long before you leave me
Say it isnt true!

Say that everything is still okay
Thats all I want to know
And what theyre saying
Oh say it isnt so!

Everywhere I go
Everyone I know
Whispers that youre growing tired of me
Say it isnt so!

People say that you
Found somebody new
And it wont be long before you leave me
Say it isnt true!

Say that everything is still okay
Thats all I want to know
Please tell me, sweetheart
What they’re saying just isn’t so!

Irving Berlin “You’re Just in Love” (music)

I hear singing and there’s no one there
I smell blossoms and the trees are bare
All day long I seem to walk on air
I wonder why, I wonder why

I keep tossing in my sleep at night
And what’s more I’ve lost my appetite
Stars that used to twinkle in the skies
Are twinkling in my eyes, I wonder why

You don’t need analyzing
It is not so surprising
That you feel very strange but nice
Your heart goes pitter patter
I know just what’s the matter
Because I’ve been there once or twice

Put your head on my shoulder
You need someone who’s older
A rub down with a velvet glove
There is nothing you can take
To relieve that pleasant ache
You’re not sick, you’re just in love

I hear singing and there’s no one there
You don’t need analyzing, it is not so surprising
I smell blossoms and the trees are bare
That you feel very strange but nice
All day long I seem to walk on air
Your heart goes pitter patter, I know just what’s the matter
I wonder why, I wonder why
Because I’ve been there once or twice

I keep tossing in my sleep at night
Put your head on my shoulder, you need someone who’s older
And what’s more I’ve lost my appetite
A rub down with a velvet glove
Stars that used to twinkle in the skies
There is nothing you can take
Are twinkling in my eyes
To relieve that pleasant ache
I wonder why
You’re not sick you’re just in love

J. B. Bernstein “Tango’d Love” from Passionate Hearts: the poetry of sexual love

You approach
I stand erect
anticipate extended hand
guides me to the dance floor
slick and satin black reflects
sophisticated bodies glide
forward backward heads cocked
hip to hip we promenade
to throbbing music swells swelling […]

Anselm Berrigan “The various multitudes contained by the loves of my love”

I love to imitate my lovers & I love to ignore the crosses in my kitchen & I love to swing when the ball is in the glove & I love to send messages to my love & I love to check the voice mail for messages from my love & I love the shoulders & the space between them that is love & love & love & I love the whatness of the space in my love goes to hell & the it of my love goes to lunch & my love is an object with great use of verbs & my love is an object with great use of colors & I love to know that objects are absolutely amazing now & the mud of the love I love is incredible love […]

Wendell Berry “To Tanya at Christmas”

Forgive me, my delight,
that grief and loneliness
have kept me. Though I come
to you in darkness, you are
companion of the light
that rises on all I know. […]

John Berryman “Great citadels whereon the gold sun falls”

Great citadels whereon the gold sun falls
Miss you O Chris sequestered to the West
Which wears you Mayday lily at its breast,
Part and not part, proper to balls and brawls,
Plains, cities, or the yellow shore, not false
Anywhere, free, native and Danishest
Profane and elegant flower,—whom suggest
Frail and not frail, blond rocks and madrigals.

Once in the car (cave of our radical love)
Your darker hair I saw than golden hair,
And where the dashboard lit faintly your least
Enlarged scene, O the midnight bloomed… the East
Less gorgeous, wearing you like a long white glove!

John Betjeman “The Licorice Fields at Pontefract”

In the licorice fields at Pontefract
My love and I did meet
And many a burdened licorice bush
Was blooming round our feet;
Red hair she had and golden skin,
Her sulky lips were shaped for sin,
Her sturdy legs were flannel-slack’d
The strongest legs in Pontefract.

The light and dangling licorice flowers
Gave off the sweetest smells;
From various black Victorian towers
The Sunday evening bells
Came pealing over dales and hills
And tanneries and silent mills
And lowly streets where country stops
And little shuttered corner shops.

She cast her blazing eyes on me
And plucked a licorice leaf;
I was her captive slave and she
My red-haired robber chief.
Oh love! for love I could not speak,
It left me winded, wilting, weak,
And held in brown arms strong and bare
And wound with flaming ropes of hair.

Old Testament Bible “How beautiful are thy feet with shoes”

How beautiful your sandaled feet,
O prince’s daughter!
Your graceful legs are like jewels,
the work of an artist’s hands.
Your navel is a rounded goblet
that never lacks blended wine.
Your waist is a mound of wheat
encircled by lilies.
Your breasts are like two fawns,
like twin fawns of a gazelle.
Your neck is like an ivory tower.
Your eyes are the pools of Heshbon
by the gate of Bath Rabbim.
Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon
looking toward Damascus.
Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel.
Your hair is like royal tapestry;
the king is held captive by its tresses.
How beautiful you are and how pleasing,
my love, with your delights!
Your stature is like that of the palm,
and your breasts like clusters of fruit.
I said, “I will climb the palm tree;
I will take hold of its fruit.”
May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine,
the fragrance of your breath like apples,
and your mouth like the best wine.

She
May the wine go straight to my beloved,
flowing gently over lips and teeth. a
I belong to my beloved,
and his desire is for me.
Come, my beloved, let us go to the countryside,
let us spend the night in the villages. b
Let us go early to the vineyards
to see if the vines have budded,
if their blossoms have opened,
and if the pomegranates are in bloom—
there I will give you my love.
The mandrakes send out their fragrance,
and at our door is every delicacy,
both new and old,
that I have stored up for you, my beloved.

Old Testament Bible “I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse”

He
I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride;
I have gathered my myrrh with my spice.
I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey;
I have drunk my wine and my milk.

Friends
Eat, friends, and drink;
drink your fill of love.

She
I slept but my heart was awake.
Listen! My beloved is knocking:
“Open to me, my sister, my darling,
my dove, my flawless one.
My head is drenched with dew,
my hair with the dampness of the night.”
I have taken off my robe—
must I put it on again?
I have washed my feet—
must I soil them again?
My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening;
my heart began to pound for him.
I arose to open for my beloved,
and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with flowing myrrh,
on the handles of the bolt.
I opened for my beloved,
but my beloved had left; he was gone.
My heart sank at his departure. a
I looked for him but did not find him.
I called him but he did not answer.
The watchmen found me
as they made their rounds in the city.
They beat me, they bruised me;
they took away my cloak,
those watchmen of the walls!
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you—
if you find my beloved,
what will you tell him?
Tell him I am faint with love.

Friends
How is your beloved better than others,
most beautiful of women?
How is your beloved better than others,
that you so charge us?

She
My beloved is radiant and ruddy,
outstanding among ten thousand.
His head is purest gold;
his hair is wavy
and black as a raven.
His eyes are like doves
by the water streams,
washed in milk,
mounted like jewels.
His cheeks are like beds of spice
yielding perfume.
His lips are like lilies
dripping with myrrh.
His arms are rods of gold
set with topaz.
His body is like polished ivory
decorated with lapis lazuli.
His legs are pillars of marble
set on bases of pure gold.
His appearance is like Lebanon,
choice as its cedars.
His mouth is sweetness itself;
he is altogether lovely.
This is my beloved, this is my friend,
daughters of Jerusalem.

Old Testament Bible “The Song of Solomon”

1 The Song of Songs, which is Solomon’s.
The Bride Confesses Her Love

She
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
For your love is better than wine;
your anointing oils are fragrant;
your name is oil poured out;
therefore virgins love you.
Draw me after you; let us run.
The king has brought me into his chambers.

Others
We will exult and rejoice in you;
we will extol your love more than wine;
rightly do they love you.

She
I am very dark, but lovely,
O daughters of Jerusalem,
like the tents of Kedar,
like the curtains of Solomon.
Do not gaze at me because I am dark,
because the sun has looked upon me.
My mother’s sons were angry with me;
they made me keeper of the vineyards,
but my own vineyard I have not kept!
Tell me, you whom my soul loves,
where you pasture your flock,
where you make it lie down at noon;
for why should I be like one who veils herself
beside the flocks of your companions?
Solomon and His Bride Delight in Each Other

He
If you do not know,
O most beautiful among women,
follow in the tracks of the flock,
and pasture your young goats
beside the shepherds’ tents.
I compare you, my love,
to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.
Your cheeks are lovely with ornaments,
your neck with strings of jewels.

Others
We will make for you[b] ornaments of gold,
studded with silver.

She
While the king was on his couch,
my nard gave forth its fragrance.
My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh
that lies between my breasts.
My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms
in the vineyards of Engedi.

He
Behold, you are beautiful, my love;
behold, you are beautiful;
your eyes are doves.

She
Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly delightful.
Our couch is green;
the beams of our house are cedar;
our rafters are pine. […]

Bilhana Kavi “Even now”

Even now
I mind the coming and talking of wise men from
towers
Where they had thought away their youth. And I,
Listening,
Found not the salt of the whispers of my girl,
Murmur of confused colors, as we lay near sleep;
Little wise words and little witty words,
Wanton as water, honied with eagerness.

Even now
I mind that I loved cypress and roses, clear,
The great blue mountains and the small gray hills,
The sounding of the sea. Upon a day
I saw strange eyes and hands like butterflies;
For me at morning larks flew from the thyme
And children came to bathe in little streams

Even now
I know that I have savored the hot taste of life
Lifting green cups and gold at the great feast.
Just for a small and forgotten time
I have had full in my eyes from off my girl
The whitest pouring of eternal light—

Terry Blackhawk “The Dawn of the Navajo Woman”

Perhaps it’s the way your arch fits my instep,
my instep curves over your arch, but we’ve kept
at it these years, our limbs linking and unlinking
deep
in the quilting, and still a hunger for skin, not sleep,
leads me on to you, your hand on my breast or
your calm talk of death and the ghosts of our
ancestors,
all of them gone into the crowded earth. […]

William Blake “The Garden of Love”

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And ‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.

William Blake “The look of love alarms”

The look of love alarms
Because tis filld with fire
But the look of soft deceit
Shall win the lovers hire

William Blake “Visions of the Daughters of Albion”

The Argument

I lovèd Theotormon,
And I was not ashamèd;
I trembled in my virgin fears,
And I hid in Leutha’s vale!

I pluckèd Leutha’s flower,
And I rose up from the vale;
But the terrible thunders tore
My virgin mantle in twain.

Visions

ENSLAV’D, the Daughters of Albion weep; a trembling lamentation
Upon their mountains; in their valleys, sighs toward America.

For the soft soul of America, Oothoon, wander’d in woe
Along the vales of Leutha, seeking flowers to comfort her;
And thus she spoke to the bright Marigold of Leutha’s vale:— 5

‘Art thou a flower? art thou a nymph? I see thee now a flower,
Now a nymph! I dare not pluck thee from thy dewy bed!’

The Golden nymph replied: ‘Pluck thou my flower, Oothoon the mild!
Another flower shall spring, because the soul of sweet delight
Can never pass away.’ She ceas’d, and clos’d her golden shrine. 10

Then Oothoon pluck’d the flower, saying: ‘I pluck thee from thy bed,
Sweet flower, and put thee here to glow between my breasts;
And thus I turn my face to where my whole soul seeks.’

Over the waves she went in wing’d exulting swift delight,
And over Theotormon’s reign took her impetuous course. 15

Bromion rent her with his thunders; on his stormy bed
Lay the faint maid, and soon her woes appall’d his thunders hoarse.

Bromion spoke: ‘Behold this harlot here on Bromion’s bed,
And let the jealous dolphins sport around the lovely maid!
Thy soft American plains are mine, and mine thy north and south: 20
Stamp’d with my signet are the swarthy children of the sun;
They are obedient, they resist not, they obey the scourge;
Their daughters worship terrors and obey the violent.
Now thou may’st marry Bromion’s harlot, and protect the child
Of Bromion’s rage, that Oothoon shall put forth in nine moons’ time.’ 25

Then storms rent Theotormon’s limbs: he roll’d his waves around,
And folded his black jealous waters round the adulterate pair.
Bound back to back in Bromion’s caves, terror and meekness dwell:

At entrance Theotormon sits, wearing the threshold hard
With secret tears; beneath him sound like waves on a desert shore 30
The voice of slaves beneath the sun, and children bought with money,
That shiver in religious caves beneath the burning fires
Of lust, that belch incessant from the summits of the earth.

Oothoon weeps not; she cannot weep, her tears are lockèd up;
But she can howl incessant, writhing her soft snowy limbs, 35
And calling Theotormon’s Eagles to prey upon her flesh.

‘I call with holy voice! Kings of the sounding air,
Rend away this defilèd bosom that I may reflect
The image of Theotormon on my pure transparent breast.’

The Eagles at her call descend and rend their bleeding prey: 40
Theotormon severely smiles; her soul reflects the smile,
As the clear spring, muddied with feet of beasts, grows pure and smiles.

The Daughters of Albion hear her woes, and echo back her sighs.

‘Why does my Theotormon sit weeping upon the threshold,
And Oothoon hovers by his side, persuading him in vain? 45
I cry: Arise, O Theotormon! for the village dog
Barks at the breaking day; the nightingale has done lamenting;
The lark does rustle in the ripe corn, and the eagle returns
From nightly prey, and lifts his golden beak to the pure east,
Shaking the dust from his immortal pinions to awake 50
The sun that sleeps too long. Arise, my Theotormon! I am pure,
Because the night is gone that clos’d me in its deadly black.
They told me that the night and day were all that I could see;
They told me that I had five senses to enclose me up;
And they enclos’d my infinite brain into a narrow circle, 55
And sunk my heart into the Abyss, a red, round globe, hot burning,
Till all from life I was obliterated and erasèd.
Instead of morn arises a bright shadow, like an eye
In the eastern cloud; instead of night a sickly charnel-house,
That Theotormon hears me not. To him the night and morn 60
Are both alike; a night of sighs, a morning of fresh tears;
And none but Bromion can hear my lamentations.

‘With what sense is it that the chicken shuns the ravenous hawk?
With what sense does the tame pigeon measure out the expanse?
With what sense does the bee form cells? Have not the mouse and frog 65
Eyes and ears and sense of touch? Yet are their habitations
And their pursuits as different as their forms and as their joys.
Ask the wild ass why he refuses burdens, and the meek camel
Why he loves man. Is it because of eye, ear, mouth, or skin,
Or breathing nostrils? No! for these the wolf and tiger have. 70
Ask the blind worm the secrets of the grave, and why her spires
Love to curl round the bones of death; and ask the rav’nous snake
Where she gets poison, and the wing’d eagle why he loves the sun;
And then tell me the thoughts of man, that have been hid of old.

‘Silent I hover all the night, and all day could be silent, 75
If Theotormon once would turn his lovèd eyes upon me.
How can I be defil’d when I reflect thy image pure?
Sweetest the fruit that the worm feeds on, and the soul prey’d on by woe,
The new-wash’d lamb ting’d with the village smoke, and the bright swan
By the red earth of our immortal river. I bathe my wings, 80
And I am white and pure to hover round Theotormon’s breast.’

Then Theotormon broke his silence, and he answerèd:—

‘Tell me what is the night or day to one o’erflow’d with woe?
Tell me what is a thought, and of what substance is it made?
Tell me what is a joy, and in what gardens do joys grow? 85
And in what rivers swim the sorrows? And upon what mountains
Wave shadows of discontent? And in what houses dwell the wretched,
Drunken with woe, forgotten, and shut up from cold despair?

‘Tell me where dwell the thoughts, forgotten till thou call them forth?
Tell me where dwell the joys of old, and where the ancient loves, 90
And when will they renew again, and the night of oblivion past,
That I might traverse times and spaces far remote, and bring
Comforts into a present sorrow and a night of pain?
Where goest thou, O thought? to what remote land is thy flight?
If thou returnest to the present moment of affliction, 95
Wilt thou bring comforts on thy wings, and dews and honey and balm,
Or poison from the desert wilds, from the eyes of the envier?’

Then Bromion said, and shook the cavern with his lamentation:—

‘Thou knowest that the ancient trees seen by thine eyes have fruit;
But knowest thou that trees and fruits flourish upon the earth 100
To gratify senses unknown—trees, beasts, and birds unknown;
Unknown, not unperceiv’d, spread in the infinite microscope,
In places yet unvisited by the voyager, and in worlds
Over another kind of seas, and in atmospheres unknown?
Ah! are there other wars, beside the wars of sword and fire? 105
And are there other sorrows beside the sorrows of poverty?
And are there other joys beside the joys of riches and ease?
And is there not one law for both the lion and the ox?
And is there not eternal fire, and eternal chains
To bind the phantoms of existence from eternal life?’ 110

Then Oothoon waited silent all the day and all the night;
But when the morn arose, her lamentation renew’d:
The Daughters of Albion hear her woes, and echo back her sighs.

‘O Urizen! Creator of men! mistaken Demon of heaven!
Thy joys are tears, thy labour vain to form men to thine image. 115
How can one joy absorb another? Are not different joys
Holy, eternal, infinite? and each joy is a Love.

‘Does not the great mouth laugh at a gift, and the narrow eyelids mock
At the labour that is above payment? And wilt thou take the ape
For thy counsellor, or the dog for a schoolmaster to thy children? 120
Does he who contemns poverty, and he who turns with abhorrence
From usury feel the same passion, or are they movèd alike?
How can the giver of gifts experience the delights of the merchant?
How the industrious citizen the pains of the husbandman?
How different far the fat fed hireling with hollow drum, 125
Who buys whole corn-fields into wastes, and sings upon the heath!
How different their eye and ear! How different the world to them!
With what sense does the parson claim the labour of the farmer?
What are his nets and gins and traps; and how does he surround him
With cold floods of abstraction, and with forests of solitude, 130
To build him castle and high spires, where kings and priests may dwell;
Till she who burns with youth, and knows no fixèd lot, is bound
In spell of law to one she loathes? And must she drag the chain
Of life in weary lust? Must chilling, murderous thoughts obscure
The clear heaven of her eternal spring; to bear the wintry rage 135
Of a harsh terror, driv’n to madness, bound to hold a rod
Over her shrinking shoulders all the day, and all the night
To turn the wheel of false desire, and longings that wake her womb
To the abhorrèd birth of cherubs in the human form,
That live a pestilence and die a meteor, and are no more; 140
Till the child dwell with one he hates, and do the deed he loathes,
And the impure scourge force his seed into its unripe birth,
Ere yet his eyelids can behold the arrows of the day?

‘Does the whale worship at thy footsteps as the hungry dog;
Or does he scent the mountain prey because his nostrils wide 145
Draw in the ocean? Does his eye discern the flying cloud
As the raven’s eye; or does he measures the expanse like the vulture?
Does the still spider view the cliffs where eagles hide their young;
Or does the fly rejoice because the harvest is brought in?
Does not the eagle scorn the earth, and despite the treasures beneath? 150
But the mole knoweth what is there, and the worm shall tell it thee.
Does not the worm erect a pillar in the mouldering churchyard
Over his porch these words are written: “Take thy bliss, O Man!
And sweet shall be thy taste, and sweet thy infant joys renew!”

‘Infancy! fearless, lustful, happy, nestling for delight 155
In laps of pleasures: Innocence! honest, open, seeking
The vigorous joys of morning light, open to virgin bliss,
Who taught thee modesty, subtil modesty, child of night and sleep?
When thou awakest wilt thou dissemble thy secret joys,
Or wert thou awake when all this mystery was disclos’d? 160

Then com’st thou forth a modest virgin knowing to dissemble,
With nets found under thy night pillow, to catch virgin joy
And brand it with the name of whore, and sell it in the night
In silence, ev’n without a whisper, and in seeming sleep.
Religious dreams and holy vespers light thy smoky fires: 165
Once were thy fires lighted by the eyes of honest morn.
And does my Theotormon seek this hypocrite modesty,
This knowing, artful, secret, fearful, cautious, trembling hypocrite?
Then is Oothoon a whore indeed! and all the virgin joys
Of life are harlots; and Theotormon is a sick man’s dream; 170
And Oothoon is the crafty slave of selfish holiness.

‘But Oothoon is not so, a virgin fill’d with virgin fancies,
Open to joy and to delight wherever beauty appears:
If in the morning sun I find it, there my eyes are fix’d
In happy copulation; if in evening mild, wearièd with work, 175
Sit on a bank and draw the pleasures of this free-born joy.

‘The moment of desire! the moment of desire! The virgin
That pines for man shall awaken her womb to enormous joys
In the secret shadows of her chamber: the youth shut up from,
The lustful joy shall forget to generate, and create an amorous image 180
In the shadows of his curtains and in the folds of his silent pillow.
Are not these the places of religion, the rewards of continence,
The self-enjoyings of self-denial? Why dost thou seek religion?
Is it because acts are not lovely that thou seekest solitude,
Where the horrible darkness is impressèd with reflections of desire? 185

‘Father of Jealousy, be thou accursèd from the earth!
Why hast thou taught my Theotormon this accursèd thing,
Till beauty fades from off my shoulders, darken’d and cast out,
A solitary shadow wailing on the margin of nonentity?

‘I cry: Love! Love! Love! happy happy Love! free as the mountain wind! 190
Can that be Love, that drinks another as a sponge drinks water,
That clouds with jealousy his nights, with weepings all the day,
To spin a web of age around him, grey and hoary, dark;
Till his eyes sicken at the fruits that hangs before his sight?
Such is self-love that envise all, a creeping skeleton, 195
With lamplike eyes watching around the frozen marriage bed!

‘But silken nets and traps of adamant will Oothoon spread,
And catch for thee girls of mild silver, or of furious gold.
I’ll lie beside thee on a bank, and view their wanton play
In lovely copulation, bliss on bliss, with Theotormon: 200
Red as the rosy morning, lustful as the first-born beam,
Oothoon shall view his dear delight; nor e’er with jealous cloud
Come in the heaven of generous love, nor selfish blightings bring.

‘Does the sun walk, in glorious raiment, on the secret floor
Where the cold miser spreads his gold; or does the bright cloud drop 205
On his stone threshold? Does his eye behold the beam that brings
Expansion to the eye of pity; or will he bind himself
Beside the ox to thy hard furrow? Does not that mild beam blot
The bat, the owl, the glowing tiger, and the king of night?
The sea-fowl takes the wintry blast for a cov’ring to her limbs, 210
And the wild snake the pestilence to adorn him with gems and gold;
And trees, and birds, and men behold their eternal joy.
Arise, you little glancing wings, and sing your infant joy!
Arise, and drink your bliss, for everything that lives is holy!’

Thus every morning wails Oothoon; but Theotormon sits 215
Upon the morgin’d ocean conversing with shadows dire.

The Daughters of Albion hear her woes, and echo back her sighs.

THE END

Ralph Blane & Hugh Martin “Love can be a moment’s madness” (music)

Love can be a moment’s madness
Love can be insane
Love can be a life of sadness and pain

Love can be a Summer shower
Love can be the sun
Love can be two hearts that flower as one

It can be
Fine and free
But it’s true
It doesn’t always happen to you

Yes, love can be a dying ember
Love can be a flame
Love pledged in September
May bе dead in Decembеr
You may not even remember
It came

Oh, love can be a joy forever
Or an empty name
Love is almost never, never the same

It can be
Ecstasy
But that kind
Is not very easy to find
Love, love, love can be a force for failure
Love can bring you fame
Love, fresh as the morning
May be wild when it’s borning
And then, without any warning
It’s tame

Oh, love a tie that’s hard to sever
Or a losing game
Love is almost never ever the same

Mathilde Blind “Many Will Love You”

Many will love you; you were made for love;
For the soft plumage of the unruffled dove
Is not so soft as your caressing eyes.
You will love many; for the winds that veer
Are not more prone to shift their compass, dear,
Than your quick fancy flies.

Many will love you; but I may not, no;
Even though your smile sets all my life aglow,
And at your fairness all my senses ache.
You will love many; but not me, my dear,
Who have no gift to give you but a tear
Sweet for your sweetness’ sake.

Robert Bly “Listening to the Koln Concert”

After we had loved each other intently,
We heard notes tumbling together,
In late winter, and we heard ice
Falling from the ends of twigs.

The notes abandon so much as they move.
They are the food not eaten, the comfort
Not taken, the lies not spoken.
The music is my attention to you.

And when the music came again,
Later in the day, I saw tears in your eyes.
I saw you turn your face away
So that others would not see.

When men and women come together,
How much they have to abandon! Wrens
Make their nests of fancy threads
And string ends, animals

Abandon all their money each year.
What is it that men and women leave?
Harder than wren’s doing, they have
To abandon their longing for the perfect.

The inner nest not made by instinct
Will never be quite round
And each has to enter the nest
Made by the other imperfect bird.

Jerry Bock, Larry Holofcener, & George David Weiss “Too Close for Comfort”

Be wise, be smart, behave, my heart
Don’t upset your cart when she’s so close
Be soft, be sweet, but be discreet
Don’t go off your beat; she’s so close for comfort

Too close, too close for comfort; please, not again
Too close, too close to know just when to say when
Be firm, be fair, be sure, beware
On your guard, take care, while there’s such temptation

One thing leads to another, too late to run for cover
She’s much too close for comfort now

Too close, too close for comfort; please, not again
Too close, too close to know just when to say when
So be firm and be fair, be sure, beware
On your guard, take care, while there’s such temptation

One thing leads to another, too late to run for cover
She’s much too close for comfort now
Too close, much too close
She’s much too close for comfort now

Louise Bogan “Juan’s Song”

When beauty breaks and falls asunder
I feel no grief for it, but wonder.
When love, like a frail shell, lies broken,
I keep no chip of it for token.
I never had a man for friend
Who did not know that love must end.
I never had a girl for lover
Who could discern when love was over.
What the wise doubt, the fool believes–
Who is it, then, that love deceives?

André Breton “On the Road to San Romano”

Poesy’s made in a bed like love
Its unmade sheets are the dawn of things
Poesy’s made in the woods

It has the space it needs
Not this the other conditioned by

The kite’s eye
Dew on a horsetail
The memory of a frosty bottle of Traminer
on a silver tray
A tall anchor-shank of tourmaline on the
ocean
And the route of mental adventure
That climbs perpendicular
A halt it’s overgrown at once

That is not shouted on the rooftops
It is inconvenient to leave the door open
Or to call witnesses

Shoals of fish rows of titmice
The rails at the entrance of a great station
Two shores’ reflections
Cracks in bread
Bubbles in the stream
Calendar days
Touch-and-heal

The act of love and the act of poesy
Are incompatible
With reading the paper in a loud voice

The sense of a sunbeam
The blue glimmer that ties again the
ax-blows of the lumberjack
The string of the kite shaped like a heart or
a hoop-net
The measured beating of beavers’ tails
Lightning’s diligence
Throwing sugared almonds from the top of
the old stairs
Avalanches

The chamber of prestige
No gentlemen it’s not Chamber No. 8
Nor barrack-room haze of a Sunday night

Dance figures executed transparently on
ponds
The delimitation of a woman’s body on a
wall in thrown knives
Bright volutes of smoke
The locks of your hair
The curve of the Philippines sponge
Ivy entering into ruins
It has all time before it

The poetic embrace like the embrace of flesh
While it lasts
Forbids any vista of the world’s misery

Nicholas Breton “Olden Love-making”

In time of yore when shepherds dwelt
Upon the mountain-rocks;
And simple people never felt
The pain of lovers ‘ mocks:
But little birds would carry tales
‘Twixt Susan and her sweeting,
And all the dainty nightingales
Did sing at lovers’ meeting:
Then might you see what looks did pass
Where shepherds did assemble,
And where the life of true love was
When hearts could not dissemble.

Then “yea” and “nay” was thought an oath
That was not to be doubted,
And when it came to “faith” and “troth”,
We were not to be flouted.
Then did they talk of curds and cream,
Of butter, cheese, and milk;
There was no speech of sunny beam
Nor of the golden silk.
Then for a gift a row of pins,
A purse, a pair of knives,
Was all the way that love begins;
And so the shepherd wives.

But now we have so much ado,
And are so sore aggrieved,
That when we go about to woo
We cannot be believed;
Such choice of jewels, rings, and chains,
That may but favour move,
And such intolerable pains
Ere one can hit on love;
That if I still shall bide this life
‘Twixt love and deadly hate,
I will go learn the country life
Or leave the lover’s state .

Leslie Bricusse & Anthony Newley “What Kind of Fool Am I?”

What kind of fool am I
Who never fell in love
It seems that I’m the only one
that I have been thinking of

What kind of man is this?
An empty shell-
A lonely cell in which
an empty heart must dwell

What kind of lips are these
That lied with every kiss
That whispered empty words of love
that left me alone like this

Why can’t I fall in love
Like any other man
And maybe then I’ll know what kind of fool I am.

What kind of clown am I?
What do I know of life?
Why can’t I cast away the mask of play
and live my life?

Why can’t I fall in love
Till I don’t give a damn
And maybe then
I’ll know what kind of fool I am

Robert Bridges “Eros”

Why hast thou nothing in thy face?
Thou idol of the human race,
Thou tyrant of the human heart,
The flower of lovely youth that art;
Yea, and that standest in thy youth
An image of eternal Truth,
With thy exuberant flesh so fair,
That only Pheidias might compare,
Ere from his chaste marmoreal form
Time had decayed the colours warm;
Like to his gods in thy proud dress,
Thy starry sheen of nakedness.

Surely thy body is thy mind,
For in thy face is nought to find,
Only thy soft unchristen’d smile,
That shadows neither love nor guile,
But shameless will and power immense,
In secret sensuous innocence.

O king of joy, what is thy thought?
I dream thou knowest it is nought,
And wouldst in darkness come, but thou
Makest the light where’er thou go.
Ah yet no victim of thy grace,
None who e’er long’d for thy embrace,
Hath cared to look upon thy face.

C. Yaphet Brinson “Sextet”

1.
your eyes are like
a breeze
walking with me,
arm in arm,
on my way
to your home

2.
kissing you
is like
drinking gin
straight,
let’s get drunk
before
we go to bed

3.
I wish
I had
your mind your body
& your soul
so I wouldn’t miss you
when you’re not here

4.
you look best
in clothes sewn
from the calm air
that surrounds you

5.
in our bedroom
each night is autumn
as our clothes copy
the leaves

6.
I can think clearly now
with you
on my mind

Joseph Brodsky “If you were drowning, I’d come to the rescue”

If you were drowning, I’d come to the rescue,
wrap you in my blanket and pour hot tea.
If I were a sheriff, I’d arrest you and keep you
in a cell under lock and key.

If you were a bird, I’d cut a record
and listen all night long to your high-pitched trill.
If I were a sergeant, you’d be my recruit,
and boy, I can assure you, you’d love the drill.

If you were Chinese, I’d learn the language,
burn a lot of incense, wear funny clothes.
If you were a mirror, I’d storm the Ladies’,
give you my red lipstick, and puff your nose.

If you loved volcanoes, I’d be lava,
relentlessly erupting from my hidden source.
And if you were my wife, I’d be your lover,
because the Church is firmly against divorce.

Rupert Brooke “Dust”

WHEN the white flame in us is gone, And we that lost the world’s delight Stiffen in darkness, left alone To crumble in our separate night;

When your swift hair is quiet in death,
And through the lips corruption thrust Has stilled the labour of my breath— When we are dust, when we are dust!—

Not dead, not undesirous yet, Still sentient, still unsatisfied,
We’ll ride the air, and shine and flit, Around the places where we died,

And dance as dust before the sun, And light of foot, and unconfined, Hurry from road to road, and run
About the errands of the wind.

And every mote, on earth or air, Will speed and gleam, down later days, And like a secret pilgrim fare By eager and invisible ways,

Nor ever rest, nor ever lie, Till, beyond thinking, out of view, One mote of all the dust that’s I Shall meet one atom that was you.

Then in some garden hushed from wind,
Warm in a sunset’s afterglow, The lovers in the flowers will find A sweet and strange unquiet grow

Upon the peace; and, past desiring, So high a beauty in the air, And such a light, and such a quiring, And such a radiant ecstasy there,

They’ll know not if it’s fire, or dew, Or out of earth, or in the height, Singing, or flame, or scent, or hue, Or two that pass, in light, to light,

Out of the garden higher, higher… But in that instant they shall learn The shattering fury of our fire, And the weak passionless hearts will burn

And faint in that amazing glow, Until the darkness close above; And they will know—poor fools, they’ll know!— One moment, what it is to love.

James Broughton “Twin Flames” from Passionate Hearts: the poetry of sexual love

Year after year we have warmed our lives
around the mystery of mutual fire
that heats our domain of risk and rapture […]

Olga Broumas “Caritas”

Her handsome hands. Each
one a duchess in her splendid gardens […]
Here the remnants of
an indefatigable anger, the jubilant
birth yell, here the indelible
covens of pleasure, a web
of murmurs, a lace
mantilla of sighs.”

Lew Brown, B.G. De Sylva, & Ray Henderson “The Best Things in Life Are Free”

There are so many kinds of riches
And only one of them is gold
The wealth you miss, remember this
Worthwhile things cannot be bought or sold

The Moon belongs to ev’ryone
The best things in life are free
The stars belong to ev’ryone
They gleam there for you and me

The flowers in spring
The robins that sing
The sunbeams that shine
They’re yours, they’re mine
And love can come to ev’ryone
The best things in life are free

The world has many sorts of treasures
And most of them you bargain for
But after all, such joys so small
Treasures real you always have in store

The Moon belongs to ev’ryone
The best things in life are free
The stars belong to ev’ryone
They gleam there for you and me

The flowers in spring
The robins that sing
The sunbeams that shine
They’re yours, they’re mine
And love can come to ev’ryone
The best things in life are free

William Browne “Shall I tell you whom I love?”

SHALL I tell you whom I love?
Hearken then awhile to me;
And if such a woman move
As I now shall versify,
Be assured ’t is she or none,
That I love, and love alone.

Nature did her so much right
As she scorns the help of art.
In as many virtues dight
As e’er yet embraced a heart.
So much good so truly tried,
Some for less were deified.

Wit she hath, without desire
To make known how much she hath;
And her anger flames no higher
Than may fitly sweeten wrath.
Full of pity as may be,
Though perhaps not so to me.

Reason masters every sense,
And her virtues grace her birth;
Lovely as all excellence,
Modest in her most of mirth.
Likelihood enough to prove
Only worth could kindle love.

Such she is; and if you know
Such a one as I have sung;
Be she brown, or fair, or so
That she be but somewhat young;
Be assured ’t is she, or none,
That I love, and love alone.

Robert Browning “The Last Ride Together”

I SAID—Then, dearest, since ’tis so,
Since now at length my fate I know,
Since nothing all my love avails,
Since all, my life seem’d meant for, fails,
Since this was written and needs must be—
My whole heart rises up to bless
Your name in pride and thankfulness!
Take back the hope you gave,—I claim
Only a memory of the same,
—And this beside, if you will not blame;
Your leave for one more last ride with me.

My mistress bent that brow of hers,
Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs
When pity would be softening through,
Fix’d me a breathing-while or two
With life or death in the balance: right!
The blood replenish’d me again;
My last thought was at least not vain:
I and my mistress, side by side
Shall be together, breathe and ride,
So, one day more am I deified.
Who knows but the world may end to-night?

Hush! if you saw some western cloud
All billowy-bosom’d, over-bow’d
By many benedictions—sun’s
And moon’s and evening-star’s at once—
And so, you, looking and loving best,
Conscious grew, your passion drew
Cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine too,
Down on you, near and yet more near,
Till flesh must fade for heaven was here!—
Thus leant she and linger’d—joy and fear!
Thus lay she a moment on my breast.

Then we began to ride. My soul
Smooth’d itself out, a long-cramp’d scroll
Freshening and fluttering in the wind.
Past hopes already lay behind.
What need to strive with a life awry?
Had I said that, had I done this,
So might I gain, so might I miss.
Might she have loved me? just as well
She might have hated, who can tell!
Where had I been now if the worst befell?
And here we are riding, she and I.

Fail I alone, in words and deeds?
Why, all men strive and who succeeds?
We rode; it seem’d my spirit flew,
Saw other regions, cities new,
As the world rush’d by on either side.
I thought,—All labour, yet no less
Bear up beneath their unsuccess.
Look at the end of work, contrast
The petty done, the undone vast,
This present of theirs with the hopeful past!
I hoped she would love me; here we ride.

What hand and brain went ever pair’d?
What heart alike conceived and dared?
What act proved all its thought had been?
What will but felt the fleshly screen?
We ride and I see her bosom heave.
There’s many a crown for who can reach.
Ten lines, a statesman’s life in each!
The flag stuck on a heap of bones,
A soldier’s doing! what atones?
They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones.
My riding is better, by their leave.

What does it all mean, poet? Well,
Your brains beat into rhythm, you tell
What we felt only; you express’d
You hold things beautiful the best,
And pace them in rhyme so, side by side.
’Tis something, nay ’tis much: but then,
Have you yourself what’s best for men?
Are you—poor, sick, old ere your time—
Nearer one whit your own sublime
Than we who never have turn’d a rhyme?
Sing, riding’s a joy! For me, I ride.

And you, great sculptor—so, you gave
A score of years to Art, her slave,
And that’s your Venus, whence we turn
To yonder girl that fords the burn!
You acquiesce, and shall I repine?
What, man of music, you grown gray
With notes and nothing else to say,
Is this your sole praise from a friend,
‘Greatly his opera’s strains intend,
Put in music we know how fashions end!’
I gave my youth: but we ride, in fine.

Who knows what’s fit for us? Had fate
Proposed bliss here should sublimate
My being—had I sign’d the bond—
Still one must lead some life beyond,
Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried.
This foot once planted on the goal,
This glory-garland round my soul,
Could I descry such? Try and test!
I sink back shuddering from the quest
Earth being so good, would heaven seem best?
Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride.

And yet—she has not spoke so long!
What if heaven be that, fair and strong
At life’s best, with our eyes upturn’d
Whither life’s flower is first discern’d,
We, fix’d so, ever should so abide?
What if we still ride on, we two
With life for ever old yet new,
Changed not in kind but in degree,
The instant made eternity,—
And heaven just prove that I and she
Ride, ride together, for ever ride?

Robert Browning “Meeting at Night”

I
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.

II
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

Kim Ly Bui-Burton “My Love Is Like a Lily” from Passionate Hearts: the poetry of sexual love

Where the rivers fork,
he grows a field of grassy
darkness. I follow his legs,
like the deep roots
of mandrake, below ground
where his feet stir the dark
under covers. Tracing them back,
I taste him
salty, bitter,
ready for planting. […]

Kim Ly Bui-Burton “Poem for R” from Passionate Hearts: the poetry of sexual love

Above, it’s spring, I think,
and kisses bloom over every inch of skin,
each curve and lobe
our rosy lips moisten and shine. […]

Johnny Burke & James Van Heusen “But Beautiful”

Love is funny or it’s sad
Or it’s quiet or it’s mad
It’s a good thing or it’s bad
But beautiful

Beautiful to take a chance
And if you fall, you fall
And I’m thinking I wouldn’t mind at all

Love is tearful or it’s gay
It’s a problem or it’s play
It’s a heartache either way
But beautiful

And I’m thinking if you were mine
I’d never let you go
And that would be but beautiful I know

(Instrumental Break)

And I’m thinking if you were mine
I’d never let you go
And that would be but beautiful I know

Johnny Burke & James Van Heusen “Like Someone in Love”

This change I feel puzzles me
It’s strange, a real mystery
Maybe you see it, if you do see it
What on earth can it be?

Lately I find myself out gazing at stars
Hearing guitars like someone in love
Sometimes the things I do astound me
Mostly whenever you’re around me

Lately I seem to walk as though I had wings
Bump into things like someone in love
Each time I look at you I’m limp as a glove
And feeling like someone in love

Lately I find myself out gazing at stars
Hearing guitars like someone in love
Sometimes the things I do astound me
Mostly whenever you’re around me

Lately I seem to walk as though I had wings
Bump into things like someone in love
Each time I look at you I’m limp as a glove
And feeling like someone in love

Johnny Burke & Erroll Garner “Misty”

Look at me
I’m as helpless as a kitten up a tree
Ah, I’m walkin’ on a cloud
I can’t understand, Lord
I’m misty holdin’ your hand

Walk my way
And a thousand violins begin to play
Or it might be the sound of your “hello”
That music I hear, Lord
I’m misty the moment you’re near

You can say that you’re leadin’ me on
But it’s just what I want you to do
Don’t ya notice how hopelessly I’m lost
That’s why I’m followin’ you

Ooh, on my own
Should I wander through this wonderland alone, now
Never knowin’ my right foot from my left
My hat from my glove, Lord
I’m misty, and too much in love

You can say that you’re leadin’ me on
But it’s just what I want you to do
Don’t ya notice how hopelessly I’m lost
That’s why I’m followin’ you

Ooh, on my own
Should I wander through this wonderland alone, now
Never knowin’ my right foot from my left
My hat from my glove, Lord
I’m misty, and too much in love

(Misty) too much in love
(Misty) too much in love
(Misty)
(Misty) too much in love…

Johnny Burke & James Van Heusen “You May Not Love Me”

You may not love me but you may
So I don’t dare to keep away
Supposing you get lonely over night
You might not need me but you might.

Perhaps I have no chance with you
But then again, perhaps I do
I only hope tomorrow won’t be just another day
You may not love me but you may.

(bridge)

Perhaps I have no chance with you
But then again, perhaps I do
I only hope tomorrow won’t be just another day
You may not love me but you may.

Robert Burns “The Patriarch”

As honest Jacob on a night,
Wi’ his beloved beauty,
Was duly laid on wedlock’s bed,
And noddin’ at his duty.

Tal de dal, etc:
“How lang, she says, ye fumblin’ wretch,
Will ye be f—g at it?
My eldest wean might die of age,
Before that ye could get it.

“Ye pegh and grane, and groazle there,
And mak an unco splutter,
And I maun Ly and thole you here,
And fient a hair the better.”

Then he, in wrath, put up his graith,
“The deevil’s in the hizzie!
I mowe you as I mowe the lave,
And night and day I’m bisy.

“I’ve bairn’d the servant gypsies baith,
Forbye your titty Leah;
Ye barren Jad, ye put me mad,
What mair can I do wi you.

“There’s ne’er a mowe I’ve gi’en the lave,
But ye ha’e got a dizzen;
And d—n’d a ane ye’se get again,
Although your c—t should gizzen.”

Then Rachel calm, as ony lamb,
She claps him on the waulies;
Quo’ she, “ne’er fasha woman’s clash,
In trowth ye mowe me braulies.”

“My dear ’tis true, for mony a mowe,
I’m your ungratefu’ debtor,
But Ance again, I dinna ken,
We’ll aiblens happen better.”

Then honest man! Wi little wark,
He soon forgot his ire;
The patriarch, he coost the sark,
And up and till’t like fire!

Robert Burns “A Red, Red Rose”

O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

Witter Bynner “Lovers”

From somewhere over the houses, through the silence,
Through the late night, come windy ripples of music.
There’s a lighted cigarette-end in the black street,
Moving beside the music he has brought her.
Behind a shuttered window, there’s a girl
Smiling into her pillow. And now by her hand
There’s a candle lighted and put out again.
And the shadow of a bird leaves its perch for a smaller twig.

George Gordon Byron “Alas, they were so young, so beautiful”

Alas! they were so young, so beautiful,
So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour
Was that in which the Heart is always full,
And, having o’er itself no further power,
Prompts deeds Eternity can not annul,
But pays off moments in an endless shower
Of hell-fire–all prepared for people giving
Pleasure or pain to one another living.

George Gordon Byron “As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow”

As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow,
And wished that others held the same opinion;
They took it up when my days grew more mellow,
And other minds acknowledged my dominion:
Now my sere Fancy “falls into the yellow
Leaf,”and Imagination droops her pinion,
And the sad truth which hovers o’er my desk
Turns what was once romantic to burlesque.

George Gordon Byron “Chance led me once, when idling through the street” from Don Leon by

Chance led me once, when idling through the street,
Beneath a porch my listless limbs to seat,
Where rudely heaped, some sculptured marbles lay,
Of pediments now crumbled to decay.
There the fallen building as I musing eyed,
Which meditation to the mind supplied,
And called me back to epochs now remote,
When Zeuxis painted and when Plato wrote,
Aloof my faithful Tartar waiting stood,
(Derwish Tahiri); for he understood
His master’s fancies, and with naked blade,
The near approach of boorish men had staid.
Close to the spot a Grecian dwelling reared
Its modest roof. A courteous man appeared;
And, bowing low, with invitation pressed
To enter in, and on his sofa rest.
I crossed the threshold of the courteous man,
And smoked and chatted. Close by the divan
His son, as Eastern usages demand,
In modest attitude was seen to stand.
And smiling watched the signals of my will,
To pour sherbet, or the long chibook fill.
Grace marked his actions, symmetry his form;
His eyes had made an anchorite grow warm,
His long attire, his silken anteri,
Gave pleasing doubts of what his sex might be;
And who that saw him would perplexed have been,
For beauty marked his gender epicone.

George Gordon Byron “The Cornelian”

No specious splendour of this stone
Endears it to my memory ever;
With lustre only once it shone,
And blushes modest as the giver.

Some, who can sneer at friendship’s ties,
Have, for my weakness, oft reprov’d me;
Yet still the simple gift I prize,
For I am sure, the giver lov’d me.

He offer’d it with downcast look,
As fearful that I might refuse it;
I told him, when the gift I took,
My only fear should be, to lose it.

This pledge attentively I view’d,
And sparkling as I held it near,
Methought one drop the stone bedew’d,
And, ever since, I’ve lov’d a tear.

Still, to adorn his humble youth,
Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield;
But he, who seeks the flowers of truth,
Must quit the garden, for the field.

‘Tis not the plant uprear’d in sloth,
Which beauty shews, and sheds perfume;
The flowers, which yield the most of both,
In Nature’s wild luxuriance bloom.

Had Fortune aided Nature’s care,
For once forgetting to be blind,
His would have been an ample share,
If well proportioned to his mind.

But had the Goddess clearly seen,
His form had fix’d her fickle breast;
Her countless hoards would his have been,
And none remain’d to give the rest.

George Gordon Byron “How long in his damp trance young Juan lay”

How long in his damp trance young Juan lay
He knew not, for the earth was gone for him,
And Time had nothing more of night nor day
For his congealing blood, and senses dim;
And how this heavy faintness pass’d away
He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb,
And tingling vein, seem’d throbbing back to life,
For Death, though vanquish’d, still retired with strife.

George Gordon Byron “Last Words on Greece”

What are to me those honours or renown
Past or to come, a new-born people’s cry?
Albeit for such I could despise a crown
Of aught save laurel, or for such could die.
I am a fool of passion, and a frown
Of thine to me is as an adder’s eye.
To the poor bird whose pinion fluttering down
Wafts unto death the breast it bore so high;
Such is this maddening fascination grown,
So strong thy magic or so weak am I.

George Gordon Byron “Love and Death”

I watched thee when the foe was at our side,
Ready to strike at him—or thee and me,
Were safety hopeless—rather than divide
Aught with one loved save love and liberty.

I watched thee on the breakers, when the rock,
Received our prow, and all was storm and fear,
And bade thee cling to me through every shock;
This arm would be thy bark, or breast thy bier.

I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes,
Yielding my couch and stretched me on the ground
When overworn with watching, ne’er to rise
From thence if thou an early grave hadst found.

The earthquake came, and rocked the quivering wall,
And men and nature reeled as if with wine.
Whom did I seek around the tottering hall?
For thee. Whose safety first provide for? Thine.

And when convulsive throes denied my breath
The faintest utterance to my fading thought,
To thee—to thee—e’en in the gasp of death
My spirit turned, oh! oftener than it ought.

Thus much and more; and yet thou lov’st me not,
And never wilt! Love dwells not in our will.
Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot
To strongly, wrongly, vainly love thee still.

George Gordon Byron “On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year”

On this Day I Complete my Thirty-Sixth Year

‘Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!

My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;
The worm—the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!

The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone as some Volcanic Isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze
A funeral pile.

The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
The exalted portion of the pain
And power of Love I cannot share,
But wear the chain.

But ’tis not thus—and ’tis not here
Such thoughts should shake my Soul, nor now,
Where Glory decks the hero’s bier,
Or binds his brow.

The Sword, the Banner, and the Field,
Glory and Greece around us see!
The Spartan borne upon his shield
Was not more free.

Awake (not Greece—she is awake!)
Awake, my Spirit! Think through whom
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake
And then strike home!

Tread those reviving passions down
Unworthy Manhood—unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
Of beauty be.

If thou regret’st thy Youth, why live?
The land of honourable Death
Is here:—up to the Field, and give
Away thy breath!

Seek out—less often sought than found—
A Soldier’s Grave, for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy Ground,
And take thy rest.

George Gordon Byron “One Struggle More, and I Am Free”

One struggle more, and I am free
From pangs that rend my heart in twain;
One last long sigh to love and thee,
Then back to busy life again.
It suits me well to mingle now
With things that never pleased before!
Though every joy is fled below,
What future grief can touch me more?

Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not form’d to live alone:
I’ll be that light, unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none.
It was not thus in days more dear,
It never would have been, but thou
Hast fled, and left me lonely here;
Thou’rt nothing–all are nothing now.

In vain my lyre would lightly breathe!
The smile that sorrow fain would wear
But mocks the woe that lurks beneath,
Like roses o’er a sepulchre.
Though gay companions o’er the bowl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill:
Though pleasure fires the maddening soul,
The heart,–the heart is lonely still!

On many a lone and lovely night
It sooth’d to gaze upon the sky;
For then I deem’d the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye:
And oft I thought at Cynthia’s noon,
When sailing o’er the Ægean wave,
‘Now Thyrza gazes on that moon’­
Alas, it gleam’d upon her grave!

When stretch’d on fever’s sleepless bed,
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins,
‘Tis comfort still,’ I faintly said,
‘That Thyrza cannot know my pains:’
Like freedom to the time-worn slave,
A boon ’tis idle then to give,
Relenting Nature vainly gave
My life, when Thyrza ceased to live!

My Thyrza’s pledge in better days,
When love and life alike were new!
How different now thou meet’st my gaze!
How tinged by time with sorrow’s hue!
The heart that gave itself with thee
Is silent–ah, were mine as still!
Though cold as e’en the dead can be,
It feels, it sickens with the chill.

Thou bitter pledge! thou mournful token!
Though painful, welcome to my breast!
Still, still preserve that love unbroken,
Or break the heart to which thou’rt press’d.
Time tempers love, but not removes,
More hallow’d when its hope is fled:
Oh! what are thousand living loves
To that which cannot quit the dead?

George Gordon Byron “So We’ll Go No More A-Roving”

So, we’ll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.

George Gordon Byron “Sometimes I sauntered from my lone abode” from Don Leon

Sometimes I sauntered from my lone abode
Down to the palace of the town waiwode.
Methinks I see him on his rich divan,
In crimson clad, a proud and lordly man.
An amber-headed pipe of costly wood
Adorned his hand : around kawasses stood.
A sable beard his gravity bespoke,
His measured words the silence rarely broke.
Beside him sat a boy of gentle mien,
In rich attire, in age about fifteen.
His red tarbůsh o’ertopped his jet black hair,
His cheeks were comely and his skin was fair.
His faultless form, in Grecian garments cloaked,
Thoughts more than mere benevolence provoked.
Not Ganymede, whose all bewitching shape,
Could in Olympus sanctify a rape.
Not Ali, long the Moslem prophets joy,
Bloomed with such graces as this Grecian boy.

George Gordon Byron “Thus feverish fancies floated in my brain” from Don Leon

Thus feverish fancies floated in my brain.
Longing, yet forced my purpose to restrain,
Upon the brink of infamy I staid,
Now half resolved to plunge, now half afraid.
But fate, that turns the eddy of our lives,
And, at its will, like straws our fortune drives,
Saved me, ere yet the desperate chance was run;
For death deprived me of my Eddleston.

George Gordon Byron “To Thyrza”

Without a stone to mark the spot,
And say, what Truth might well have said,
By all, save one, perchance forgot,
Ah! wherefore art thou lowly laid?

By many a shore and many a sea
Divided, yet beloved in vain;
The past, the future fled to thee,
To bid us meet no ne’er again!

Could this have been–a word, a look,
That softly said, ‘We part in peace,’
Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter sighs, thy soul’s release.

And didst thou not, since Death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart,
Once long for him thou ne’er shaft see,
Who held, and holds thee in his heart?

Oh! who like him had watch’d thee here?
Or sadly mark’d thy glazing eye,
In that dread hour ere death appear,
When silent sorrow fears to sigh,

Till all was past; But when no more
‘Twas thine to reek of human woe,
Affection’s heart-drops, gushing o’er,
Had flow’d as fast–as now they flow.

Shall they not flow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers,
Ere call’d but for a time away,
Affection’s mingling tears were ours?

Ours too the glance none saw beside;
The smile none else might understand;
The whisper’d thought of hearts allied,
The pressure of the thrilling hand;

The kiss, so guiltless and refined,
That Love each warmer wish forbore;
Those eyes proclaim’d so pure a mind,
Even Passion blush’d to plead for more.

The tone, that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine;
The song, celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine;

The pledge we wore–I wear it still,
But where is thine?–Ah! where art thou?
Oft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now!

Well hast thou left in life’s best bloom
The cup of woe for me to drain.
If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thee here again.

But if in worlds more blest than this
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere,
Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mine anguish here.

Teach me–too early taught by thee!
To bear, forgiving and forgiven:
On earth by love was such to me–
It fain would form my hope in heaven!

Irving Caesar & Vincent Youmans “Sometimes I’m Happy”

Sometimes I’m happy, sometimes I’m blue
My disposition depends on you
I never mind the rain from the sky
If I can find the sun in your eyes

Sometimes I love you, sometimes I hate you
But when I hate you, it’s ’cause I love you

That’s how I am
So what can I do?
I’m happy when I’m with you

Sometimes I’m happy, sometimes I’m blue
My disposition depends on you
I never mind the rain from the sky
If I can find the sun in your eyes

Sometimes I love you, sometimes I hate you
But when I hate you, it’s ’cause I love you

That’s how I am
So what can I do?
I’m always happy
So very happy
I’m always happy when I’m with you

Sammy Cahn & Jimmy Van Heusen “All the Way”

When somebody loves you
It’s no good unless he loves you – all the way
Happy to be near you
When you need someone to cheer you – all the way
Taller than the tallest tree is
That’s how it’s got to feel
Deeper than the deep blue sea is
That’s how deep it goes – if it’s real
When somebody needs you
It’s no good unless he needs you – all the way
Through the good or lean years
And for all the in between years – come what may
Who know where the road will lead us
Only a fool would say
But if you’ll let me love you
It’s for sure I’m gonna love you – all the way, all the way.

Sammy Cahn, Axel Stordahl, & Paul Weston “Day by Day”

Day by day I’m falling more in love with you
And day by day my love seems to grow
There isn’t any end to my devotion
It’s deeper dear by far than any ocean

I find that day by day you’re making all my dreams come true
So come what may I want you to know
I’m yours alone, and I’m in love to stay
As we go through the years day by day

Sammy Cahn & Jule Styne “I Fall in Love Too Easily”

There are those who can leave love or take it
Love to them is just what they make it
I wish that I were the same
But love is my fav’rite game

I fall in love too easily
I fall in love too fast
I fall in love too terribly hard
For love to ever last

My heart should be well-schooled
‘Cause I’ve been burned in the past
And still I fall in love too easily
I fall in love too fast

I fall in love too easily
I fall in love too fast
I fall in love too terribly hard
For love to ever last

Sammy Cahn & Jimmy Van Heusen “(Love is) The Tender Trap”

You see a pair of laughing eyes
And suddenly your sighing sighs
You’re thinking nothing’s wrong
You string along, boy, then snap!

Those eyes, those sighs, they’re part of the tender trap
You’re hand in hand beneath the trees
And soon there’s music in the breeze
You’re acting kind of smart, until your heart just goes wap!

Those trees, that breeze, they’re part of the tender trap
Some starry night, when her kisses make you tingle
She’ll hold you tight, and you’ll hate yourself for being single

And all at once it seems so nice
The folks are throwing shoes and rice
You hurry to a spot, that’s just a dot on the map

You’re hooked, you’re cooked, you’re caught in the tender trap
Some starry night, when her kisses make you tingle
She’ll hold you tight, and you’ll hate yourself for being single

And all at once it seems so nice
The folks are throwing shoes and rice
You hurry to a spot that’s just a dot on the map

And then you wonder how it all came about
It’s too late now there’s no gettin’ out
You fell in love, and love is the tender trap

Sammy Cahn & Jule Styne “Put ‘Em in a Box”

You can take the moon, gather up the stars
And the robins that sing merrily
Put ’em in a box, tie ’em with a ribbon
Throw ’em in the deep blue sea
You can take the flowers, down in lovers lane
And that sentimental poetry
Put ’em in a box, tie ’em with a ribbon
Throw ’em in the deep blue sea
Not for me, all that stuff
The dreams that ruin your sleep
Not for me, had enough
Love is one thing you can keep
You can take the plans and the wedding bells
And whoever sings, oh, promise me
Put ’em in a box, tie ’em with a ribbon
Throw ’em in the deep blue sea
‘Cause love and I we don’t agree
Hansoms through the park, kisses in the dark
All the promises made faithfully
Put ’em in a box, tie ’em with a ribbon
Throw ’em in the deep blue sea
And you won’t go wrong if you take a song
Sung by Frankie Boy or Mr. C
Put ’em in a box, tie ’em with a ribbon
Throw ’em in the deep blue sea
Not for me, all that stuff
Not for me, had enough
You know what to do with good old tea for two
And the girl for you, the boy for me
Put ’em in a box, tie ’em with a ribbon
Throw ’em in the deep blue sea
‘Cause love and I we don’t agree

Sammy Cahn & Jule Styne “The Second Time Around”

Love is lovelier the second time around
Just as wonderful with both feet on the ground
It’s that second time you hear your love song sung
Makes you think perhaps that love, like youth, is wasted on the young

Love’s more comfortable the second time you fall
Like a friendly home the second time you call
Who can say what brought us to this miracle we’ve found?
There are those who’ll bet love comes but once, and yet
I’m oh, so glad we met the second time around

Who can say what brought us to this miracle we’ve found?
There are those who’ll bet love comes but once, and yet
I’m oh, so glad we met the second time around

Sammy Cahn & Jule Styne “Time After Time”

Time after time, I tell myself that I’m
So lucky to be loving you
So lucky to be the one you run to see
In the evening, when the day is through

I only know what I know, the passing years will show
You’ve kept my love so young, so new
And time after time, you’ll hear me say that I’m
So lucky to be loving you

I only know what I know, the passing years will show
You’ve kept my love so young, so new
And time after time, you’ll hear me say that I’m
So lucky to be loving you

Sammy Cahn, Mann Holiner, Alberta Nichols “Until the Real Thing Comes”

I’d work for you, I’d slave for you
I’d be a beggar or knave for you
If that isn’t love, it’ll have to do
Until the real things comes along
I’d gladly move the earth for you
To prove my love dear and it’s worth to you
If that isn’t love, it’ll have to do
Until the real things comes along
With all the words dear at my command
I just can’t make you understand
I’ll always love you darlin’, come what may
My heart is yours what more can I say
I’d sigh for you oh I’ll cry for you
I’d tear the stars down from the sky for you
If that isn’t love, it’ll have to do
Until the real thing comes along
With all the words dear at my command
I just can’t make you understand
I’ll always love you darlin’, come what may
My heart is yours what more can I say
I’d sigh for you and I’ll cry for you
I’d tear the stars down from the sky for you
If that ain’t love, it’ll have to do
Until the real thing comes along
Until the real thing comes along
Until the real thing comes along

E. K. Caldwell “Love Poem” from Passionate Hearts: the poetry of sexual love

olfactory paradise
scent of musk and sweat
mingling on fingers thighs

emerald ferns
wet with morning
smell of loam
rich moist earth
salty spray
glistening lips

amber drenched tongues of flame
licking the senses

electric pulse
flashing indigo and violet
night storm singing
silver edged midnight
scented with thunder

Jimmy Campbell, Ray Noble, & Reg Connelly “Good Night, Sweetheart”

Good night sweetheart, till we meet tomorrow
Good night sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow
Tears and parting may make us forlorn
But with the dawn, a new day is born (so I’ll say)
Good night sweetheart, tho’ I’m not beside you
Good night sweetheart, still my love will guide you
Dreams enfold you, in each one I’ll hold you
Good night sweetheart, good night
Good night sweetheart, till we meet tomorrow
Good night sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow
Tears and parting may make us forlorn
But with the dawn, a new day is born
(so I’ll say) Good night sweetheart, tho’ I’m not beside you
Good night sweetheart, still my love will guide you
Dreams enfold you, in each one I’ll hold you
Good night sweetheart, good night

James Campbell, Reginald Connelly, Ted Shapiro “If I Had You”

I could show the world how to smile
I could be glad, all of the while
I could change the gray skies to blue
If I had you

I could leave the old days behind
Leave all my pals, I’d never mind
I could start my life anew
If I had you

I could climb a snow-capped mountain
Sail the mighty ocean wide
I could cross the burning desert
If I had you by my side

I could be a king, dear, uncrowned
Humble or poor, rich or renowned
There is nothing I couldn’t do
If I had you

I could climb a snow-capped mountain
Sail the mighty ocean wide
I could cross the burning desert
If I had you by my side

I could be a king, dear, uncrowned
Humble or poor, rich or renowned
There is nothing I couldn’t do
If I had you

Thomas Campion “I Care Not for These Ladies”

I care not for these ladies,
That must be wooed and prayed:
Give me kind Amaryllis,
The wanton country maid.
Nature art disdaineth,
Her beauty is her own.
Her when we court and kiss,
She cries, “Forsooth, let go!”
But when we come where comfort is,
She never will say no.

If I love Amaryllis,
She gives me fruit and flowers:
But if we love these ladies,
We must give golden showers.
Give them gold, that sell love,
Give me the nut-brown lass,
Who, when we court and kiss,
She cries, “Forsooth, let go!”
But when we come where comfort is,
She never will say no.

These ladies must have pillows,
And beds by strangers wrought;
Give me a bower of willows,
Of moss and leaves unbought,
And fresh Amaryllis,
With milk and honey fed;
Who, when we court and kiss,
She cries, “Forsooth, let go!”
But when we come where comfort is,
She never will say no.

Thomas Carew “A Rapture”

I WILL enjoy thee now, my Celia, come,
And fly with me to Love’s Elysium.
The giant, Honour, that keeps cowards out,
Is but a masquer, and the servile rout
Of baser subjects only bend in vain
To the vast idol ; whilst the nobler train
Of valiant lovers daily sail between
The huge Colossus’ legs, and pass unseen
Unto the blissful shore. Be bold and wise,
And we shall enter : the grim Swiss denies
Only to tame fools a passage, that not know
He is but form and only frights in show
The duller eyes that look from far ; draw near
And thou shalt scorn what we were wont to fear.
We shall see how the stalking pageant goes
With borrow’d legs, a heavy load to those
That made and bear him ; nor, as we once thought,
The seed of gods, but a weak model wrought
By greedy men, that seek to enclose the common,
And within private arms empale free woman.
Come, then, and mounted on the wings of Love
We’ll cut the flitting air and soar above
The monster’s head, and in the noblest seats
Of those blest shades quench and renew our heats.
There shall the queens of love and innocence,
Beauty and Nature, banish all offence
From our close ivy-twines ; there I’ll behold
Thy bared snow and thy unbraided gold ;
There my enfranchised hand on every side
Shall o’er thy naked polish’d ivory slide.
No curtain there, though of transparent lawn,
Shall be before thy virgin-treasure drawn ;
But the rich mine, to the enquiring eye
Exposed, shall ready still for mintage lie,
And we will coin young Cupids. There a bed
Of roses and fresh myrtles shall be spread,
Under the cooler shade of cypress groves ;
Our pillows of the down of Venus’ doves,
Whereon our panting limbs we’ll gently lay,
In the faint respites of our active play :
That so our slumbers may in dreams have leisure
To tell the nimble fancy our past pleasure,
And so our souls, that cannot be embraced,
Shall the embraces of our bodies taste.
Meanwhile the bubbling stream shall court the shore,
Th’ enamour’d chirping wood-choir shall adore
In varied tunes the deity of love ;
The gentle blasts of western winds shall move
The trembling leaves, and through their close boughs breathe
Still music, whilst we rest ourselves beneath
Their dancing shade ; till a soft murmur, sent
From souls entranced in amorous languishment,
Rouse us, and shoot into our veins fresh fire,
Till we in their sweet ecstasy expire.
Then, as the empty bee that lately bore
Into the common treasure all her store,
Flies ’bout the painted field with nimble wing,
Deflow’ring the fresh virgins of the spring,
So will I rifle all the sweets that dwell
In my delicious paradise, and swell
My bag with honey, drawn forth by the power
Of fervent kisses from each spicy flower.
I’ll seize the rose-buds in their perfumed bed,
The violet knots, like curious mazes spread
O’er all the garden, taste the ripen’d cherry,
The warm firm apple, tipp’d with coral berry :
Then will I visit with a wand’ring kiss
The vale of lilies and the bower of bliss ;
And where the beauteous region both divide
Into two milky ways, my lips shall slide
Down those smooth alleys, wearing as they go
A tract for lovers on the printed snow ;
Thence climbing o’er the swelling Apennine,
Retire into thy grove of eglantine,
Where I will all those ravish’d sweets distil
Through Love’s alembic, and with chemic skill
From the mix’d mass one sovereign balm derive,
Then bring that great elixir to thy hive.
Now in more subtle wreaths I will entwine
My sinewy thighs, my legs and arms with thine ;
Thou like a sea of milk shalt lie display’d,
Whilst I the smooth calm ocean invade
With such a tempest, as when Jove of old
Fell down on Danaë in a storm of gold ;
Yet my tall pine shall in the Cyprian strait
Ride safe at anchor and unlade her freight :
My rudder with thy bold hand, like a tried
And skilful pilot, thou shalt steer, and guide
My bark into love’s channel, where it shall
Dance, as the bounding waves do rise or fall.
Then shall thy circling arms embrace and clip
My willing body, and thy balmy lip
Bathe me in juice of kisses, whose perfume
Like a religious incense shall consume,
And send up holy vapours to those powers
That bless our loves and crown our sportful hours,
That with such halcyon calmness fix our souls
In steadfast peace, as no affright controls.
There, no rude sounds shake us with sudden starts ;
No jealous ears, when we unrip our hearts,
Suck our discourse in ; no observing spies
This blush, that glance traduce ; no envious eyes
Watch our close meetings ; nor are we betray’d
To rivals by the bribed chambermaid.
No wedlock bonds unwreathe our twisted loves,
We seek no midnight arbour, no dark groves
To hide our kisses : there, the hated name
Of husband, wife, lust, modest, chaste or shame,
Are vain and empty words, whose very sound
Was never heard in the Elysian ground.
All things are lawful there, that may delight
Nature or unrestrained appetite ;
Like and enjoy, to will and act is one :
We only sin when Love’s rites are not done.
The Roman Lucrece there reads the divine
Lectures of love’s great master, Aretine,
And knows as well as Lais how to move
Her pliant body in the act of love ;
To quench the burning ravisher she hurls
Her limbs into a thousand winding curls,
And studies artful postures, such as be
Carved on the bark of every neighbouring tree
By learned hands, that so adorn’d the rind
Of those fair plants, which, as they lay entwined,
Have fann’d their glowing fires. The Grecian dame,
That in her endless web toil’d for a name
As fruitless as her work, doth there display
Herself before the youth of Ithaca,
And th’ amorous sport of gamesome nights prefer
Before dull dreams of the lost traveller.
Daphne hath broke her bark, and that swift foot
Which th’ angry gods had fasten’d with a root
To the fix’d earth, doth now unfetter’d run
To meet th’ embraces of the youthful Sun.
She hangs upon him like his Delphic lyre ;
Her kisses blow the old, and breathe new fire ;
Full of her god, she sings inspired lays,
Sweet odes of love, such as deserve the bays,
Which she herself was. Next her, Laura lies
In Petrarch’s learned arms, drying those eyes
That did in such sweet smooth-paced numbers flow,
As made the world enamour’d of his woe.
These, and ten thousand beauties more, that died
Slave to the tyrant, now enlarged deride
His cancell’d laws, and for their time mis-spent
Pay into Love’s exchequer double rent.
Come then, my Celia, we’ll no more forbear
To taste our joys, struck with a panic fear,
But will depose from his imperious sway
This proud usurper, and walk as free as they,
With necks unyoked ; nor is it just that he
Should fetter your soft sex with chastity,
Whom Nature made unapt for abstinence ;
When yet this false impostor can dispense
With human justice and with sacred right,
And, maugre both their laws, command me fight
With rivals or with emulous loves that dare
Equal with thine their mistress’ eyes or hair.
If thou complain of wrong, and call my sword
To carve out thy revenge, upon that word
He bids me fight and kill ; or else he brands
With marks of infamy my coward hands.
And yet religion bids from blood-shed fly,
And damns me for that act. Then tell me why
This goblin Honour, which the world adores,
Should make men atheists, and not women whores?

Thomas Carew “The Second Rapture”

No, worlding, no, ’tis not thy gold,
Which thou dost use but to behold;
Nor fortune, honour, nor long life,
Children, or friends, nor a good wife,
That makes thee happy: these things be
But shadows of felicity.
Give me a wench about thirteen,
Already voted to the queen
Of lust and lovers; whose soft hair,
Fann’d with the breath of gentle air,
O’erspreads her shoulders like a tent,
And is her veil and ornament;
Whose tender touch will make the blood
Wild in the aged and the good;
Whose kisses, fast’ned to the mouth
Of threescore years and longer slouth,
Renew the age; and whose bright eye
Obscures those lesser lights of sky;
Whose snowy breasts (if we may call
That snow, that never melts at all)
Makes Jove invent a new disguise,
In spite of Juno’s jealousies;
Whose every part doth re-invite
The old decayed appetite;
And in whose sweet embraces I
May melt myself to lust, and die.
This is true bliss, and I confess
There is no other happiness.

Thomas Carew “Ask me no more where Jove bestows”

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty’s orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale, when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars ’light,
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become, as in their sphere.

Ask me no more if east or west
The phoenix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

Edward Carpenter “Summer Heat”

Sun burning down on back and loins, penetrating the skin, bathing their flanks in sweat,
Where they lie naked on the warm ground, and the ferns arch over them,
Out in the woods, and the sweet scent of fir-needles
Blends with the fragrant nearness of their bodies;

In-armed together, murmuring, talking,
Drunk with wine of Eros’ lips,
Hourlong, while the great wind rushes in the branches,
And the blue above lies deep beyond the fern-fronds and fir-tips;

Till, with the midday sun, fierce scorching, smiting,
Up from their woodland lair they leap, and smite,
And strike with wands, and wrestle, and bruise each other,
In savage play and amorous despite.

Edward Carpenter “Through the Long Night”

You, proud curve-lipped youth, with brown sensitive face,
Why, suddenly, as you sat there on the grass, did you
turn full upon me those twin black eyes of yours,
With gaze so absorbing so intense, I a strong man
trembled and was faint?
Why in a moment between me and you in the full
summer afternoon did Love sweep-leading after it in procession across the lawn and the flowers and under the waving
trees huge dusky shadows of Death and the other world?

I know not.
Solemn and dewy-passionate, yet burning clear and sted-fast at the last,
Through the long night those eyes of yours, dear,
remain to me—
And I remain gazing into them.

You, proud curve-lipped youth, with brown sensitive face,
Why, suddenly, as you sat there on the grass, did you turn full upon me those twin black eyes of yours,
With gaze so absorbing so intense, I a strong man trembled and was faint?
Why in a moment between me and you in the full summer afternoon did Love sweep—leading after it in procession across the lawn and the flowers and under the waving trees huge dusky shadows of Death and the other world?
I know not.
Solemn and dewy-passionate, yet burning clear and steadfast at the last,
Through the long night those eyes of yours, dear, remain to me—
And I remain gazing into them.

Lewis Carroll “Short Poem”

my hand moved furiously,
trying to capture & convert
scattered thoughts into poetry,
miles blew bags grooves
outside the summer sky exploded
in thunderous applause & warm rain

she caressed my hand, sending my words
spiraling toward incomprehension
her tongue trailed a wet, searing path
from my fingers to the lobe of my ear,
all alive now with miles’ muted trumpet
sonny rollins’ big tenor & her husky whispers

she raised her dress . . . slowly
unfolded herself deliberately
like a patient poet
she meandered on a metaphor,
sauntered on a simile,
exposed brown thighs as perfect
as a langston hughes stanza

my mind evaporated,
my page became weird hieroglyphics
as miles joined percy heath,
they played but not for me
she glided, smooth as percy’s bassline
toward the darkened bedroom
I couldn’t help but think to myself,
as her fragrance lingered to haunt me
that this was gon’ be
a short poem.

Hayden Carruth “Sonnet 10”

You rose from our embrace and the small light spread
like an aureole around you. The long parabola
of neck and shoulder, flank and thigh I saw
permute itself through unfolding and unlimited
minuteness in the movement of your tall tread, […]

William Cartwright “No Platonic Love”

Tell me no more of minds embracing minds,
And hearts exchang’d for hearts;
That spirits spirits meet, as winds do winds,
And mix their subt’lest parts;
That two unbodied essences may kiss,
And then like Angels, twist and feel one Bliss.

I was that silly thing that once was wrought
To practise this thin love;
I climb’d from sex to soul, from soul to thought;
But thinking there to move,
Headlong I rolled from thought to soul, and then
From soul I lighted at the sex again.

As some strict down-looked men pretend to fast,
Who yet in closets eat;
So lovers who profess they spirits taste,
Feed yet on grosser meat;
I know they boast they souls to souls convey,
Howe’r they meet, the body is the way.

Come I will undeceive thee, they that tread
Those vain aerial ways,
Are like young heirs and alchemists misled
To waste their wealth and days,
For searching thus to be for ever rich,
They only find a med’cine for the itch.

William Cartwright “A Song of Dalliance”

Heark, my Flora! Love doth call us
To that strife that must befal us.
He has rob’d his mother’s Myrtles
And hath pull’d her downy Turtles.
See, our genial hosts are crown’d, 5

And our beds like billows rise:
Softer combat’s nowhere found,
And who loses, wins the prize 1 .
Let not dark nor shadows fright thee;
Thy limbs of lustre they will light thee. 10

Fear not any can surprise us,
Love himself doth now disguise us.
From thy waste thy girdle throw:
Night and darkness both dwell here:
Words or actions who can know, 15

Where there’s neither eye nor ear?
Shew thy bosom and then hide it;
License touching and then chide it;
Give a grant and then forbear it,
Offer 2 something, and forswear it; 20
Call us wicked wanton men;
Do as turtles, kiss and groan;
Say “We ne’er shall meet again 3.”
I can hear thee curse, yet chase thee; 25
Drink thy tears, yet still embrace thee;
Easie riches is no treasure 4 ;
She that’s willing spoils the pleasure.
Love bids learn the wrestlers’ fight 5;
Pull and struggle whilst ye twine 6; 30
Let me use my force tonight,
The next conquest shall be thine.

1 Softer lists are nowhere found

2 And the strife’s itselfe’s the prize, Parnassus Biceps.

Profer…
3 Ask where all my shame is gone, ibid.

4 Say thou ne’er sbalt joy againe, Parnassus Biceps.

5 are no treasure, ibid. 6 slight, ibid.
7 when we twine, ibid.

Raymond Carver “Waiting”

Left off the highway and
down the hill. At the
bottom, hang another left.
Keep bearing left. The road
will make a Y. Left again.
There’s a creek on the left.
Keep going. Just before
the road ends, there’ll be
another road. Take it
and no other. Otherwise,
your life will be ruined
forever. There’s a log house
with a shake roof, on the left.
It’s not that house. It’s
the next house, just over
a rise. The house
where trees are laden with
fruit. Where phlox, forsythia,
and marigold grow. It’s
the house where a woman
stands in the doorway
wearing the sun in her hair. The one
who’s been waiting
all this time.
The woman who loves you.
The one who can say,
“What’s kept you?”

Raymond Carver “Woman Bathing”

Natches River. Just below the falls.
Twenty miles from any town. A day
of dense sunlight
heavy with odors of love.
How long have we?
Already your body, sharpness of Picasso,
is drying in this highland air.
I towel down your back, your hips,
with my undershirt.
Time is a mountain lion.
We laugh at nothing,
and as I touch your breasts
even the ground-
squirrels
are dazzled.

Rosario Castellanos “Love: Only the voice, the skin, the polished” tr. Carolyne Wright

Sólo la voz, la piel, la superficie Pulida de las cosas. Basta. No quiere más la oreja, que su cuenco Rebalsaría y la mano ya no alcanza A tocar más allá. Distraída, resbala, acariciando Y lentamente sabe del contorno. Se retira saciada Sin advertir el ulular inútil De la cautividad de las entrañas Ni el ímpetu del cuajo de la sangre Que embiste la compuerta del borbotón, ni el nudo Ya para siempre ciego del sollozo. El que se va se lleva su memoria, Su modo de ser río, de ser aire, De ser adiós y nunca. Hasta que un día otro lo para, lo detiene Y lo reduce a voz, a piel, a superficie Ofrecida, entregada, mientras dentro de sí La oculta soledad aguarda y tiembla.

Only the voice, the skin, the polished surface of things. Enough. The ear wants no more, for its bowl would brim over and the hand reaches no farther now to touch. Absently it slips, striking, and slowly it knows the contour. Sated, it withdraws, not noticing the futile howl of the entrails in captivity not the blood’s push to coagulate that attacks the sluicegate of the flood, nor the knot, already blind forever, of the sob. He who goes off takes his memory, his way of being river, being air, farewell and never. Until one day someone stops, detains, reduces him to voice, to skin, to offered surrendered surface, while within him the hidden solitude bides its time and trembles.

Catullus “Carmen 5”

Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus, rumoresque senum severiorum omnes unius aestimemus assis! soles occidere et redire possunt: nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux, nox est perpetua una dormienda. da mi basia mille, deinde centum, dein mille altera, dein secunda centum, deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum. dein, cum milia multa fecerimus, conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus, aut ne quis malus inuidere possit, cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, and let us judge all the rumors of the old men to be worth just one penny! The suns are able to fall and rise: When that brief light has fallen for us, we must sleep a never ending night. Give me a thousand kisses, then another hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred, then yet another thousand more, then another hundred. Then, when we have made many thousands, we will mix them all up so that we don’t know, and so that no one can be jealous of us when he finds out how many kisses we have shared.

Catullus “51”

Ille mi par esse deo videtur, ille, si fas est, superare divos, qui sedens adversus identidem te spectat et audit dulce ridentem, misero quod omnes eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te, Lesbia, aspexi, nihil est super mi lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus flamma demanat, sonitu suopte tintinant aures, gemina teguntur lumina nocte. otium, Catulle, tibi molestum est: otio exsultas nimiumque gestis: otium et reges prius et beatas perdidit urbes

He seems to me to be equal to a god, he, if it is permissible, seems to surpass the gods, who sitting opposite again and again watches and hears you sweetly laughing, which rips out all senses from miserable me: for at the same moment I look upon you, Lesbia, nothing is left for me But my tongue grows thick, a thin flame runs down beneath my limbs, with their own sound my ears ring, my lights (eyes) are covered by twin night. Idleness is a troublesome thing for you, Catullus: In idleness you revel and delight too much: Idleness has destroyed both kings and blessed cities before.

Catullus “To Juventius” tr. Sir Richard Francis Burton

Mellitos oculos tuos, Iuventi, siquis me sinat usque basiare, usque ad milia basiem trecenta, nec unquam videar satur futurus, non si densior aridis aristis sit nostrae seges osculationis.

Those honied eyes of thine (Juventius!) If any suffer me sans stint to buss, I’d kiss of kisses hundred thousands three, Nor ever deem I’d reach satiety, Not albe denser than dried wheat-ears show The kissing harvests our embraces grow.

Paul Antschel “Paul Celan” “Corona” translated by Pierre Joris

Aus der Hand frißt der Herbst mir sein Blatt: wir sind Freunde. Wir schälen die Zeit aus den Nüssen und lehren sie gehn: die Zeit kehrt zurück in die Schale. Im Spiegel ist Sonntag, im Traum wird geschlafen, der Mund redet wahr. Mein Aug steigt hinab zum Geschlecht der Geliebten: wir sehen uns an, wir sagen uns Dunkles, wir lieben einander wie Mohn und Gedächtnis, wir schlafen wie Wein in den Muscheln, wie das Meer im Blutstrahl des Mondes. Wir stehen umschlungen im Fenster, sie sehen uns zu von der Straße: es ist Zeit, daß man weiß! Es ist Zeit, daß der Stein sich zu blühen bequemt, daß der Unrast ein Herz schlägt. Es ist Zeit, daß es Zeit wird. Es ist Zeit.

Autumn eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. We shell time from the nuts and teach it to walk: time returns to the shell. In the mirror is Sunday, in the dream we sleep, the mouth speaks true. My eye goes down to my lover’s sex: we gaze at each other, we speak of dark things, we love each other like poppy and memory, we sleep like wine in the seashells, like the sea in the moon’s blood-beam. We stand and embrace at the window, they watch us from the street: it is time, for this to be known! It is time that the stone took the trouble to bloom, that unrest’s heart started to beat. It’s time for it to be time. It is time.

Cemal Sureya “Yellow Blight”

My breath is a red bird
In the auburn skies of your hair
When I embrace you
Your legs grow long beyond words

My breath becomes a red horse
I can tell from my burning cheeks
We are destitute, our nights are snort
Let’s make love at full tilt

Cempulappeyanirar “What He Said” Translated by A.K. Ramanujan

What could my mother be
to yours?
What kin my father
to yours anyway? And how
did you and I meet ever?
But in love
Our hearts have mingled
like red earth and pouring rain.

Maturai Eruttalan Centamputan “What She Said”

Before I laughed with him
nightly,

the slow waves beating
on his wide shores
and the palmyra
bringing forth heron-like flowers
near the waters,

my eyes were like the lotus
my arms had the grace of the bamboo
my forehead was mistaken for the moon.

But now.

Luis Cernuda “For Two Voices”

“Your eyes are the eyes of a man in love;
Your lips are the lips of a man who doesn’t believe
in love.” “Then, tell me the remedy, friend,
If reality and desire are in discord.”

Luis Cernuda “The Lover Digresses”

Perhaps in hell time has
The fiction of measurement we give it
Here, or perhaps it has the abundance
Of life’s precious moments.
I don’t know. Beyond, they say, time
Goes backwards, so we go on unliving ourselves.

So, this our story, mine and yours
(Probably better to say mine only,
Though yours are the motive and opportunity,
Which isn’t a little), we will live again
You and I (Or, I alone will live),
From its end to the beginning.

Strange it will be then
To pass from the beginnings of oblivion
To that illusive fervor, when all
Was animated by you, because you lived,
And from there to no knowing
You, before finding each other.

But in hells, by that reckoning,
I would stop believing, and at the same time
I might reject the idea of paradises;
Hell and paradise,
Aren’t they probably our own doing, of this
Earthly life we’re made for and isn’t it enough? […]

Luis Cernuda “That Which Is Enough for Love”

Once again love has hold
Of you. In spite of yourself
Not even age exempts you
From serving him.

You were free, without love,
When your eyes beheld
The new boy
Who awakened desire.

Your eyes still feed on
That enchantment of the soul
And you want nothing else.
Is contemplating enough?

Is that enough for you? And how,
Seeing him,
everything has purpose;
Not seeing him,
And nothing has purpose.

Gazing upon what you love.
If that enchantment were enough,
Nothing more; if only this looking
Upon what you love were enough.

In love’s first phase
You go slowly
Without approaching the body
Whose existence you adore.

Chao Luan-luan 酥乳 Sū rǔ “Creamy Breasts” tr. Ling Chung.

粉香汗湿瑶琴轸 春逗酥融绵雨膏 浴罢檀郎扪弄处 灵华凉沁紫葡萄

1 Fěn xiāng hàn shī yáo qín zhěn 2 chūn dòu sū róng mián yǔ gāo 3 yù bà tán láng mén nòng chù 4 líng huá liáng qìn zǐ pútáo

A whiff of powder, damp with sweat, rare jade turning-pegs: Aroused by spring, they glisten, gleam, sleek as silkfloss-rains. When, fresh from the bath, her sweet-scent man teases with a touch, Those magical buds feel shivery-wet—those dusky-purple grapes!

George Chapman “Bridal Song”

O COME, soft rest of cares! come, Night!
Come, naked Virtue’s only tire,
The reaped harvest of the light
Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire.
Love calls to war:
Sighs his alarms,
Lips his swords are,
The field his arms.

Come, Night, and lay thy velvet hand
On glorious Day’s outfacing face;
And all thy crowned flames command
For torches to our nuptial grace.
Love calls to war:
Sighs his alarms,
Lips his swords are,
The field his arms.

Karen Chase “Venison”

Later, I dreamt against your human chest,
you cloaked me in your large arms, then
went for me the way you squander food sometimes.
By then, I was eating limbs in my sleep, somewhere
in the snow alone, survivor of a downed plane,
picking at the freshly dead. […]

Thomas Chatterton “Ode to Miss Hoyland”

AH! Hoyland, empress of my heart,
When will thy breast admit the dart,
And own a mutual flame?
When, wandering in the myrtle groves,
Shall mutual pleasures seal our loves—
Pleasures without a name?

Thou greatest beauty of the sex,
When will the little god perplex
The mansions of thy breast?
When wilt thou own a flame as pure
As that seraphic souls endure,
And make thy Baker blest?

Geoffrey Chaucer “The Double sorwe of Troilus to tellen”

The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen,
That was the king Priamus sone of Troye,
In lovinge, how his aventures fellen
Fro wo to wele, and after out of joye,
My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye.
Thesiphone, thou help me for t’endite
Thise woful vers, that wepen as I write!

To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment,
Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in peyne;
Help me, that am the sorwful instrument
That helpeth lovers, as I can, to pleyne!
For wel sit it, the sothe for to seyne,
A woful wight to han a drery feere,
And, to a sorwful tale, a sory cheere.

For I, that God of Loves servaunts serve,
Ne dar to Love, for myn unlyklinesse,
Preyen for speed, al sholde I therfor sterve,
So fer am I fro his help in derknesse;
But nathelees, if this may doon gladnesse
To any lover, and his cause avayle,
Have he my thank, and myn be this travayle!

But ye loveres, that bathen in gladnesse,
If any drope of pitee in yow be,
Remembreth yow on passed hevynesse
That ye han felt, and on the adversitee
Of othere folk, and thenketh how that ye
Han felt that Love dorste yow displese;
Or ye han wonne hym with to greet an ese.

And preyeth for hem that ben in the cas
Of Troilus, as ye may after here,
That love hem bringe in hevene to solas,
And eek for me preyeth to God so dere,
That I have might to shewe, in som manere,
Swich peyne and wo as Loves folk endure,
In Troilus unsely aventure.

And biddeth eek for hem that been despeyred
In love, that never nil recovered be,
And eek for hem that falsly been apeyred
Thorugh wikked tonges, be it he or she;
Thus biddeth God, for his benignitee,
So graunte hem sone out of this world to pace,
That been despeyred out of Loves grace.

And biddeth eek for hem that been at ese,
That God hem graunte ay good perseveraunce,
And sende hem might hir ladies so to plese,
That it to Love be worship and plesaunce.
For so hope I my soule best avaunce,
To preye for hem that Loves servaunts be,
And write hir wo, and live in charitee.

And for to have of hem compassioun
As though I were hir owene brother dere.
Now herkneth with a good entencioun,
For now wol I gon streight to my matere,
In whiche ye may the double sorwes here
Of Troilus, in loving of Criseyde,
And how that she forsook him er she deyde.

Geoffrey Chaucer “This Troilus in armes gan hir streyne”

This Troilus in armes gan hir streyne,
And seyde, `O swete, as ever mote I goon,
Now be ye caught, now is ther but we tweyne;
Now yeldeth yow, for other boot is noon.’
To that Criseyde answerde thus anoon,
Ne hadde I er now, my swete herte dere,
Ben yolde, y-wis, I were now not here!’

O! Sooth is seyd, that heled for to be
As of a fevre or othere greet syknesse,
Men moste drinke, as men may often see,
Ful bittre drink; and for to han gladnesse,
Men drinken often peyne and greet distresse;
I mene it here, as for this aventure,
That thourgh a peyne hath founden al his cure.

And now swetnesse semeth more sweet,
That bitternesse assayed was biforn;
For out of wo in blisse now they flete;
Non swich they felten, sith they were born;
Now is this bet, than bothe two be lorn!
For love of god, take every womman hede
To werken thus, if it comth to the nede.

Criseyde, al quit from every drede and tene,
As she that iuste cause hadde him to triste,
Made him swich feste, it Ioye was to sene,
Whan she his trouthe and clene entente wiste.
And as aboute a tree, with many a twiste,
Bitrent and wryth the sote wode-binde,
Gan eche of hem in armes other winde.

And as the newe abaysshed nightingale,
That stinteth first whan she biginneth to singe,
Whan that she hereth any herde tale,
Or in the hegges any wight steringe,
And after siker dooth hir voys out-ringe;
Right so Criseyde, whan hir drede stente,
Opned hir herte and tolde him hir entente.

And right as he that seeth his deeth y-shapen,
And deye moot, in ought that he may gesse,
And sodeynly rescous doth him escapen,
And from his deeth is brought in sikernesse,
For al this world, in swich present gladnesse
Was Troilus, and hath his lady swete;
With worse hap god lat us never mete!

Hir armes smale, hir streyghte bak and softe,
Hir sydes longe, fleshly, smothe, and whyte
He gan to stroke, and good thrift bad ful ofte
Hir snowish throte, hir brestes rounde and lyte;
Thus in this hevene he gan him to delyte,
And ther-with-al a thousand tyme hir kiste;
That, what to done, for Ioye unnethe he wiste.

Than seyde he thus, `O, Love, O, Charitee,
Thy moder eek, Citherea the swete,
After thy-self next heried be she,
Venus mene I, the wel-willy planete;
And next that, Imeneus, I thee grete;
For never man was to yow goddes holde
As I, which ye han brought fro cares colde.

`Benigne Love, thou holy bond of thinges,
Who-so wol grace, and list thee nought honouren,
Lo, his desyr wol flee with-outen winges.
For, noldestow of bountee hem socouren
That serven best and most alwey labouren,
Yet were al lost, that dar I wel seyn, certes,
But-if thy grace passed our desertes.

`And for thou me, that coude leest deserve
Of hem that nombred been un-to thy grace,
Hast holpen, ther I lykly was to sterve,
And me bistowed in so heygh a place
That thilke boundes may no blisse pace,
I can no more, but laude and reverence
Be to thy bounte and thyn excellence!’

And therwith-al Criseyde anoon he kiste,
Of which, certeyn, she felte no disese,
And thus seyde he,
`Now wolde god I wiste,
Myn herte swete, how I yow mighte plese!
What man,’ quod he,
was ever thus at ese
As I, on whiche the faireste and the beste
That ever I say, deyneth hir herte reste.

`Here may men seen that mercy passeth right;
The experience of that is felt in me,
That am unworthy to so swete a wight.
But herte myn, of your benignitee,
So thenketh, though that I unworthy be,
Yet mot I nede amenden in som wyse,
Right thourgh the vertu of your heyghe servyse.

`And for the love of god, my lady dere,
Sin god hath wrought me for I shal yow serve,
As thus I mene, that ye wol be my stere,
To do me live, if that yow liste, or sterve,
So techeth me how that I may deserve
Your thank, so that I, thurgh myn ignoraunce,
Ne do no-thing that yow be displesaunce.

`For certes, fresshe wommanliche wyf,
This dar I seye, that trouthe and diligence,
That shal ye finden in me al my lyf,
Ne wol not, certeyn, breken your defence;
And if I do, present or in absence,
For love of god, lat slee me with the dede,
If that it lyke un-to your womanhede.’

`Y-wis,’ quod she, myn owne hertes list,
My ground of ese, and al myn herte dere,
Graunt mercy, for on that is al my trist;
But late us falle awey fro this matere;
For it suffyseth, this that seyd is here.
And at o word, with-outen repentaunce,
Wel-come, my knight, my pees, my suffisaunce!’

Of hir delyt, or Ioyes oon the leste
Were impossible to my wit to seye;
But iuggeth, ye that han ben at the feste,
Of swich gladnesse, if that hem liste pleye!
I can no more, but thus thise ilke tweye
That night, be-twixen dreed and sikernesse,
Felten in love the grete worthinesse.

O blisful night, of hem so longe y-sought,
How blithe un-to hem bothe two thou were!
Why ne hadde I swich on with my soule y-bought,
Ye, or the leeste Ioye that was there?
A-wey, thou foule daunger and thou fere,
And lat hem in this hevene blisse dwelle,
That is so heygh, that al ne can I telle!

Ralph Nicholas Chubb “Song of My Soul”

The form of youth without blemish, is not such the form divine?
Children of love, today I will sing my song to you!

Under the sky in the hot noon-beam, in the water-meadow,
The sound of the rushing fall;
We two alone together screen’d by the trees and the thicket;
Naked the lecherous urchin, the slim beautiful boy,
Naked myself, dark, muscled like a god, the hardy enduring man;
He a fully form’d human being in his way,
Myself a fully form’d human being in my way;
No patronage between us, mutual respect, two equal persons;
He knowing the universe, I knowing the universe, equal together;
I having every whit as much to learn from him as he from me;
From him to me, from me to him, reciprocal sexual spiritual love.

No word needed, scarce ev’n a glance, mystically
Limbs interlace, bodies interpenetrate,
Spirits coalesce.
(He scarce needs to be there, ’tis in Imagination’s realm true lovers meet.)
O burning tongue and hot lips of me exploring my love!
Lave his throat with the bubbling fountain of my verse!
Drench him! Slake his loins with it, most eloquent!
Leave no part, no crevice unexplored; delve deep, my minstrel tongue!
Let our juices flood and mingle! Let the prophetic lava flow!
Drink deep of love, the pair of us, O sacramental communion,
As our souls meet and melt!
The sweat of our armpits runneth down upon our breasts.
Be our bodies sealed together, part they with a smack!
I will be father and mother at once to thee, my son, thou shalt feed from my
bosom.
And you shall be mother and father to me, and give me to suck my honey’d inspiration from your right nipple and from your left.
You shall leave no portion of me untasted, I will become fluid for your sake.
I will feed you spiritually with a stuff that shall make a man of you,
With the milk of divine manhood will I satisfy your soul.
Quick, your lips under my poetic dug,
My own soul’s calf, pull, pull. Well out the manly hymns!
For I am he that shall fill your young veins with the seeds of all futurity.

David Citino “6. The Nature of Love”

Because God couldn’t figure how to be
everywhere He invented mothers. Women and men

are the only animals that drink when there’s no
thirst, love in and out of season, recognize
the lineaments of God beneath a lover’s clothes. […]

John Clare “First Love”

I ne’er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale,
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start—
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter’s choice?
Is love’s bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love’s appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more.

Charles Badger Clark “A Border Affair”

Spanish is the lovin’ tongue,
Soft as music, lights as spray.
‘Twas a girl I learnt it from,
Livin’ down Sonora way.
I don’t look much like a lover,
Yet I say her love words over
Often when I’m all alone –
‘Mi amor, mi corazon.’

Nights when she knew where I’d ride
She would listen for my spurs,
Fling the big door open wide,
Raise them laughin’ eyes of her
And my heart would nigh stop beatin’
When I heard her tender greetin’,
Whispered soft for me alone
‘Mi amor! mi corazon!’

Moonlight in the patio,
Old Señora noddin’ near,
Me and Juana talkin’ low
So the Madre couldn’t hear –
How those hours would go a-flyin;!
And too soon I’d hear her sighin’
In her little sorry tone –
‘Adios, mi corazon!’

But one time I had to fly
For a foolish gamlin’ fight,
And we said a swift goodbye
In that black, unlucky night.
When I’d loosed her arms from clingin’
With her words the hoofs kep’ ringin’
As I galloped north alone –
‘Adios, mi corazon’

Never seen her since that night,
I kain’t cross the Line, you know.
She was Mex and I was white;
Like as not it’s better so.
Yet I’ve always sort of missed her
Since that last wild night I kissed her,
Left her heart and lost my own –
‘Adios, mi corazon!’

Austin Clarke “The Envy of Poor Lovers”

Lying in the grass as if it were a sin
To move, they hold each other’s breath, tremble,
Ready to share that ancient dread – kisses begin
Again – of Ireland keeping company with them. […]

Austin Clarke “Penal Law”

Burn Ovid with the rest. Lovers will find
A hedge-school for themselves and learn by heart
All that the clergy banish from the mind,
When hands are joined and head bows in the dark.

Harry Clifton “Monsoon Girl”

Ta nudité mouchète les murs De taches d’ombres, et éclabousse les miroirs Comme une vision, dans la lumière bleue Où tu baignes, fille d’une heure, Sur une planète perdue, sincère Mais seulement la nuit. […]

Your nudity dapples the walls With shadows, and splashes the mirrors Like a vision in the blue light That bathes you, a pleasure-girl On a last planet sincere But only at night […]

Joshua Clover “The Map Room”

I love my wife for her
wonderful, light, creamy, highly reflective skin;
if there’s an illumination from the submerged Cities,
that’s her. She suspects me of certain acts involving Maria Felix,
the gambling debts mount […]

Betty Comden & Adolph Green “Adventure”

You should have married Seymour Brilkin.
A better life you would be leading.
Respectable, secure,
So comfortable and sure,
A regular Mrs. Counselor-at-law.
You should have married Seymour Brilkin!
Down on his knees you heard him pleading.
He tore his hair and cried,
Yet you threw him aside,
Why didn’t you listen to your maw!?
SHE :
Ah yes, ah yes,
I’d have two fur coats
And a black beaded dress,
Two cars, two houses,
Two safe deposit boxes,
Two poodles, and oodles
Of dripping silver foxes . . .
HE :
You should have married Seymour Brilkin!
Oh what a lush life it would be.
You’d be living high.
SHE :
So kindly tell me why
The wealthy Mrs. Brilkin is jealous of me?
‘Cause I’ve got
Adventure . . . adventure,
With you every day is an adventure.
I wake with the dawn
And before I can yawn
There’s a knock at the door.
Who knows what lies in store?
Are you under arrest?
Have we been dispossessed?
Will we find ourselves out on the street?
Yes I’ve got . . .
Adventure . . . adventure.
So dear Mrs. Brilkin,
Go keep all your silken,
And satin and mink lingerie.
My life is a ball.
It’s the ” Perils of Paul-
Ine, ” with my name up on the marquee!
It’s adventure for me!
HE :
You should have married Sheldon Miller
And have the million things you’re missing.
A dope,
A brain of wood,
In plastics he made good,
So you could be Mrs. ” Plastic-garment-bag. “
You should have married Sheldon Miller,
The ground you walked on he was kissing.
But you told him ” Drop dead “
And you picked me instead —
If you were his wife your mom could brag!
SHE :
Ah, so . . . ah, so . . .
I’d have full-time maids
And an old French chateau,
Two yachts,
Two airplanes,
A home with two golf courses,
French labels,
And stables
Of fiery racing horses.
HE :
You should have married Sheldon Miller.
Oh, what a lush life that would be,
Built of solid gold.
SHE :
So why is it I’m told
The horsey Mrs. Miller is jealous of me?
‘Cause I’ve got
Adventure . . . adventure,
With you may I say it’s an adventure.
You’ve passed a bum check
And the guy’s on your neck,
So we dash out of town for a spree.
The place that we stay
Is in Far Rockaway,
With a heavenly view of the sea.
But the bill soon arrives,
So we run for our lives.
Out the window, by dark,
We continue our lark.
We drop to the streets
On a ladder of sheets,
It’s an unobserved drop,
All except for one cop.
We flee, hand in hand,
Down in the damp midnight sand,
By a great piece of luck
There’s the back of a truck.
It bumps us to town,
I’m still in my nightgown —
Well, the weekend’s been chic,
And it’s tune in next week.
So dear Mrs. Mill-
Er, go beep your chinchill-
A, ‘Cause even if Sheldon were free,
I’d give up each ruby
And stick to my Hubie.
It’s adventure . . . adventure . . .
For me!
Ah well, Seymour Brilkin,
Ah well, Sheldon Miller,
Oh well, what’s a girl gonna do?
Hubert Cram, I love you.

Betty Comden & Adolph Green “Just in Time”

Just in time, I found you just in time
Before you came my time was running low
I was lost, the losing dice were tossed
My bridges all were crossed, no where to go
Now you’re here, now I know just where I’m going

No more doubt or fears I’ve found my way
For love came just in time
You found me just in time
And changed my lonely life that lucky day

Now you’re here, now I know just where I’m going
No more doubt or fears I’ve found my way
For love came just in time
You found me just in time
And changed my lonely life that lucky day

Betty Comden & Adolph Green “A Little Bit in Love”

Mm–Mmm —
I’m A little bit in love,
never felt this way before.
Mm–Mmm —
just A little bit in love,
or perhaps A little bit more.

When he
looks at me,
everythings hazy and all out of focus.
When he
touches me,
I’m in the spell of A strange hocus-Pocus.
Its so —
I don’t know.
I’m so —
I don’t know.
I don’t know — but I know,
if its love,
then its lovely!

Mm–Mmm —
its so nice to be alive
when you meet someone who bewitches you.
Will he be my all,
or did I just fall
A little bit,
A little bit in love?

Mm–Mmm —
I’m A little bit in love,
never felt this way before.
Mm–Mmm —

Mm–Mmm–
it’s so nice to be alive
when you find someone who bewitches you.
Will he be my all,
or did I just fall
A little bit,
A little bit in love?

Eliza Cook “‘Tis Well to Wake the Theme of Love”

‘Tis well to wake the theme of love
When chords of wild ecstatic fire
Fling from the harp, and amply prove
The soul as joyous as the lyre.

Such theme is blissful when the heart
Warms with the precious name we pour,
When our deep pulses glow and start
Before the idol we adore.

Sing ye, whose doting eyes behold–
Whose ears can drink the dear one’s tone,
Whose hands may press, whose arms may fold
The prized, the beautiful, thine own!

But should the ardent hopes of youth
Have cherished dreams that darkly fled;
Should passion, purity, and truth,
Live on, despairing o’er the dead:

Should we have heard some sweet voice hushed,
Breathing our name in latest vow;
Should our fast heavy tears have gushed
Above a cold, yet worshipped brow:

Oh! say then, can the minstrel choose
The themes that gods and mortals praise?
No, no; the spirit will refuse,

And sadly shun such raptured lays.

For who can bear to touch the string
That yields but anguish in its strain;
Whose lightest notes have power to wring
The keenest pangs from breast and brain!

“Sing ye of love in words that burn?
Is what full many a lip will ask;
But love the dead, and ye will learn
Such bidding is no gentle task.

Oh! pause in mercy, ere ye blame
The one who lends not love his lyre;
That which ye deem ethereal flame
May be to him a torture pyre.

Jayne Cortez “Pray for the Lovers”

Pray for the lovers
for those who are suspicious
for those who are jealous
for those who are revengeful
Pray for the lovers
for those who are unsatisfied
for those who are frightened
for those who are disappointed
pray for those who are lonely lazy & limited
Pray for the lovers
for those unwilling to reveal & unable to revolt
for those who are helpless
for those who are hostile
for those whose flesh goes dead upon touching
the frigid
the passive
the latent
the soft
have mercy on the lovers in heat
pray for those with pain in their bodies
pain in their minds
for sorrow
for fear &
the spell of madness after love says goodbye
Pray for the lovers in the name of love
in the name of god &
the mirror of death
love in the name of some rollin hips
those churning lips & the blood
that drips incest to
incest
all power to the lovers in the name of love
all power to the lovers in the name of love
all power to the lovers in the name of love….

William Cory “Desiderato”

Oh, lost and unforgotten friend,
Whose presence change and chance deny;
If angels turn your soft proud eye
To lines your cynic playmate penned,

Look on them, as you looked on me,
When both were young; when, as we went
Through crowds or forest ferns, you leant
On him who loved your staff to be;

And slouch your lazy length again
On cushions fit for aching brow
(Yours always ached, you know), and now

As dainty languishing as then,
Give them but one fastidious look,
And if you see a trace of him
Who humoured you in every whim,

Seek for his heart within his book:
For though there be enough to mark
The man’s divergence from the boy,
Yet shines my faith without alloy

For him who led me through that park;
And though a stranger throw aside
Such grains of common sentiment,
Yet let your haughty head be bent

To take the jetsom of the tide;
Because this brackish turbid sea
Throws toward thee things that pleased of yore,
And though it wash thy feet no more,

Its murmurs mean: “I yearn for thee.”
The world may like, for all I care,
The gentler voice, the cooler head,
That bows a rival to despair,

And cheaply compliments the dead;
That smiles at all that’s coarse and rash,
Yet wins the trophies of the fight,
Unscathed, in honour’s wreck and crash,

Heartless, but always in the right;.
Thanked for good counsel by the judge
Who tramples on the bleeding brave,
Thanked too by him who will not budge
From claims thrice hallowed by the grave.

Thanked, and self-pleased: ay, let him wear
What to that noble breast was due;
And I, dear passionate Teucer, dare
Go through the homeless world with you.

William Cory “Deteriora”

One year I lived in high romance,
A soul ennobled by the grace
Of one whose very frowns enhance
The regal lustre of the face,
And in the magic of a smile
I dwelt as in Calypso’s isle.

One year, a narrow line of blue,
With clouds both ways awhile held back:
And dull the vault that line goes through,
And frequent now the crossing rack;
And who shall pierce the upper sky,
And count the spheres? Not I, not I!

Sweet year, it was not hope you brought,
Nor after toil and storm repose,
But a fresh growth of tender thought,
And all of love my spirit knows.
You let my lifetime pause, and bade
The noontide dial cast no shade.

If fate and nature screen from me
The sovran front I bowed before,
And set the glorious creature free,
Whom I would clasp, detain, adore;
If I forego that strange delight,
Must all be lost? Not quite, not quite.

Die, little Love, without complaint,
Whom Honour standeth by to shrive:
Assoilèd from all selfish taint,
Die, Love, whom Friendship will survive.
Nor heat nor folly gave thee birth;
And briefness does but raise thy worth.

Let the grey hermit Friendship hoard
Whatever sainted Love bequeathed,
And in some hidden scroll record
The vows in pious moments breathed.
Vex not the lost with idle suit,
Oh lonely heart, be mute, be mute.

William Cory “Parting”

As when a traveller, forced to journey back,
Takes coin by coin, and gravely counts them o’er,
Grudging each payment, fearing lest he lack,
Before he can regain the friendly shore;
So reckoned I your sojourn, day by day,
So grudged I every week that dropt away.

And as a prisoner, doomed and bound, upstarts
From shattered dreams of wedlock and repose,
At sudden rumblings of the market-carts,
Which bring to town the strawberry and the rose,
And wakes to meet sure death; so shuddered I,
To hear you meditate your gay Good-bye.

But why not gay? For, if there’s aught you lose,
It is but drawing off a wrinkled glove
To turn the keys of treasuries, free to choose
Throughout the hundred-chambered house of love,
This pathos draws from you, though true and kind,
Only bland pity for the left-behind.

We part; you comfort one bereaved, unmanned;
You calmly chide the silence and the grief;
You touch me once with light and courteous hand,
And with a sense of something like relief
You turn away from what may seem to be
Too hard a trial of your charity.

So closes in the life of life; so ends
The soaring of the spirit. What remains?
To take whate’er the Muse’s mother lends,
One sweet sad thought in many soft refrains
And half reveal in Coan gauze of rhyme
A cherished image of your joyous prime.

Sam Coslow “(I’m In Love With) The Honorable Mr. So and So”

I’m in love with the honourable Mr. So-And-So
I can’t mention his name with propriet’ry
He’s a pillar of Gotham society
And the newspaper columnists all would love to know
I’m in love with the honourable Mr. So-And-So

He goes out with a fashionable Lady So-And-So
While they dine and they dance in a swell room
I must wait in a stuffy hotel room
For the moments so rare, but convenient for him to spare
He gets terribly annoyed if he doesn’t find me there

Why must I be living in a back street
Just so he can hide me
I long to shout it from the housetops
Instead of keeping it all inside me

There are so many fascinating places I could go
Invitations galore I get nightly
“Awfully sorry”, I tell them politely
I’m in love with the honourable Mr. So-And-So

Sam Coslow “It’s Love Again”

I was the type who would laugh at romance
Called it a lot of chop suey
I was finished with that sort of hooey
But we never learn, do we?
My point of view has completely reversed
I find that I’m just as screwy
It’s love again
It’s love again
I’ll shout it from the housetops up above again
That state of sweet inanity
That borders on insanity
It’s love again
I feel the urge again
To merge again
And melodies of love within me surge again:
So if I choose to rest my chin
With passion on a violin
It’s love again
Love is the thing that makes a bull and heifer
Feel just like an airy zephyr
Breeze
Love is an effervescent drink
That makes a Cockney coster think
He’s Viennese
It feels like spring again
I’ll sing again
And be just like a vine that has to cling again
So if I wax poetic
Be a little sympathetic
For it’s love again

Sam Coslow & Arthur Johnston “My Old Flame”

My old flame
I can’t even think of his name
But it’s funny now and then
How my thoughts go flashing back again
To my old flame
My old flame
My new lovers all seem so tame
For I haven’t met a gent

So innocent or elegant
As my old flame

I’ve met so many men
With fascinating ways
A fascinating gaze in their eyes
Some who sent me up to the skies
But their attempts at love
Were only imitations of
My old flame
I can’t even think of his name
But I’ll never be the same
Until I discover what became
Of my old flame

I’ve met so many men
With fascinating ways
A fascinating gaze in their eyes
Some who sent me up to the skies
But their attempts at love
Were only imitations of
My old flame
I can’t even think of his name
But I’ll never be the same
Until I discover what became
Of my old flame

Jeni Couzyn “Spell to Protect Our Love”

By warm blood of bird
by wing of bird
by feather of bird
let our love be safe.

By hot blood of mammal
by fur and by hair
by warmth of breast
let it come to no harm.

By chill blood of reptile
by scale of reptile
by lung of reptile
let no ill damage it.

By four-legged amphibian
by gill and naked skin
by slow blood and lung
adapt and be nourished.

By cool blood of fish
by gill and by fin
by scale and skeleton
let no harm come to our love.

Noël Coward “Let’s Do It”

Mr. Irving Berlin
Often emphasizes sin
In a charming way
Mr. Coward we know
Wrote a song or two to show
Sex was here to stay
Richard Rodgers it’s true
Took a more romantic view
Of this sly biological urge
But it really was Cole
Who contrived to make the whole
Thing merge

He said the Belgians and Greeks do it
Nice young men who sell antiques do it
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love
Monkeys whenever you look do it
Aly Khan and King Farouk do it
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love
Louella Parsons can’t quite do it
For she’s so highly strung
Marlene might do it
But she looks far too young
Each man out there shooting crap does it
Davy Crockett in that dreadful cap does it
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love

Steven Crane “Should the wide world roll away”

Should the wide world roll away
Leaving black terror
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential
If thou and thy white arms were there
And the fall to doom a long way.

Richard Crashaw “The Bubble”

BULLA . Quid tibi vana suos offert mea Bulla tumores? Quid facit ad vestrum pondus inane meum? Expectat nostros humeros toga fortior. Ista En mea Bulla, lares en tua dextra mei. Quid tu? quae nova machina, Quae tam fortuito globo In vitam properas brevem? Qualis virgineos adhuc Cypris concutiens sinus, Cypris jam nova, jam recens, Et spumis media in suis, Promsit purpureum latus; Concha de patria micas, Pulchroque exsilis impetu; Statim et millibus ebria Ducens terga coloribus Evolvis tunidos sinus Sphaera plena volubili. Cujus per varium latus, Cujus per teretem globum Iris lubrica cursitans Centum per species vagas, Et picti facies chori Circum regnat, et undique, Et se Diva volatilis Jucundo levis impetu Et vertigine perfida Lasciva sequitur fuga, Et pulchre dubitat; fluit Tam fallax toties novis, Tot se per reduces vias, Erroresque reciprocos Spargit vena coloribus; Et pompa natat ebria. Tali militia micans Agmen se rude dividit; Campis quippe volantibus, Et campi levis aequore Ordo insanus obambulans Passim se fugit, et fugat. Passim perdit, et invenit. Pulchrum spargitur hic Chaos. Hic viva, hic vaga flumina Ripa non propria meant, Sed miscent socias vias, Communique sub alveo Stipant delicias suas. Quarum proximitas vaga Tam discrimine lubrico, Tam subtilibus arguit Juncturam tenuem notis, Pompa ut florida nullibi Sinceras habeat vias; Nec vultu niteat suo. Sed dulcis cumulus novos Miscens purpureus sinus Flagrant divitiis suis, Privatum renuens jubar. Floris diluvio vagi, Floris sidere publico Late ver subit aureum, Atque effunditur in suae Vires undique copiae. Nempe omnis quia cernitur, Nullus cernitur hic color, Et vicinia contumax Allidit species vagas. Illic contiguis aquis Marcent pallidulae faces. Unde hic vena tenellulae, Flammis ebria proximis Discit purpureas vias, Et rubro salit alveo. Ostri sanguineum jubar Lambunt lactea flumina; Suasu caerulei maris Mansuescit seges aurea; Et lucis faciles genae Vanas ad nebulas stupent; Subque uvis rubicundulis Flagrant sobria lilia; Vicinis adeo rosis. Vicinae invigilant nives; Ut sint et niveae rosae, Ut sunt et roseae nives, Accenduntque rosae nives, Extinguuntque nives rosas. Illic cum viridi rubet, Hic et cum rutile viret, Lascivi facies chori. Et quicquid rota lubrica Caudae stelligerae notat, Pulchrum pergit et in ambitum. Hic coeli implicitus labor, Orbes orbibus obvii; Hic grex velleris aurei, Grex pellucidus aetheris; Qui noctis nigra pascua Puris morsibus atterit; Hic quicquid nitidum et vagum Coeli vibrat arenula, Dulci pingitur in joco; Hic mundus tener impedit Sese amplexibus in suis. Succinctique sinu globi Errat per proprium decus. Hic nictant subitae faces, Et ludunt tremulum diem, Mox se surripiunt sui et Quaerunt tecta supercili, Atque abdunt petulans jubar, Subsiduntque proterviter. Atque haec omnia quam brevis Sunt mendacia machinae! Currunt scilicet omnia Sphaera , non vitrea quidem Ut quondam Siculus globus Sed vitro nitida magis, Sed vitro fragili magis, Et vitro vitrea magis. Sum venti ingenium breve, Flos sum, scilicet, aëris, Sidus scilicet aequoris; Naturae jocus aureus, Naturae vaga fabula, Naturae breve somnium. Nugarum decus et dolor; Dulcis doctaque vanitas. Aurae filia perfidae; Et risus facilis parens. Tantum gutta superbior, Fortunatius et lutum. Sum fluxae pretium spei; Una ex Hesperidum insulis. Formae pyxis, amantium Clare caecus ocellulus; Vanae et cor leve gloriae. Sum caecae speculum Deae, Sum Fortunae ego tessera, Quam dat militibus suis; Sum Fortunae ego symbolum, Quo sancit fragilem fidem Cum mortalibus ebriis, Obsignatque tabellulas. Sum blandum, petulans, vagum, Pulchrum, purpureum, et decens, Comptum, floridulum, et recens, Distinctum nivibus, rosis, Undis, ignibus, aere, Pictum, gemmeum, et aureum, O sum, scilicet, ô NIHIL. Si piget, et longam traxisse in taedia pompam Vivax, et nimium Bulla videtur anus: Tolle tuos oculos pensum leve defluet, illam Parca metet facili non operosa manu. Vixit adhuc. Cur vixit ? adhuc tu nempe legebas. Nempe fuit tempus tum potuisse mori?

THE BUBBLE What art thou? What new device, Globe, chance-fashion’d in a trice, Into brief existence bounding, Perfectly thy circle rounding? As when Cypris, her breast smiting Virgin still, all love inviting Cypris in young loveliness Couch’d rosy where the white waves press Her to bear and her to bless; So forth from thy native shell Gleamest thou ineffable! Springing up with graceful bound And describing dainty round; Thousand colours come and go As thou dost thy fair curves show, Swelling out – a whirling ball Meet for Fairy – Festival; Through whose sides of shifting hue, Through whose smooth – turn’d globe, we view Iris ‘ gliding rainbow sitting, In a hundred forms soft – flitting: And semblance of a troop displaying , All around dominion swaying: And the Goddess volatile With witching step and luring smile Follows still with twinkling foot In link’d mazes involute: With many a sight – deceiving turn And flight which makes pursuers burn, And a graceful hesitation Only treacherous simulation: Just so, and no less deceiving, Our BUBBLE, all its colours weaving, Follows ever – varying courses, Or in air itself disperses: Here now, there now, coming, going, Wand’ring as if ebbing, flowing: Sporting Passion’s colours all In ways that are bacchanal; And the Globes undisciplin’d As though driven by the wind, Borne along the fleeting plains Light as air ; nor order reigns But the heaven – possess’d array Moving each in its own way, Hither now and thither flying, Glancing, wavering, and dying, Losing still their path and finding, In a random inter – winding: Rising, falling, on careering, Vis’ble now, now disappearing; Living wand’ring streams outgoing, Ey’n Confusion beauteous showing: Flowing not each in its course, But each to other joining force; Moving in pleasant pastime still In a mutual good – will: And a nearness that’s so near You the contact almost fear, Yet so finely drawn to eye In its delicate subtlety That the procession, blossom-fair, Nowhere has direction clear; Nor with their own aspect glance, But in the sweet luxuriance Which skiey influences lend, As in new windings on they trend: Throwing off the stol’n sunlight In a flood of blossoms bright, Scatter’d on the fields of light; Such a brilliancy of bloom As all may share if all will come. Now golden Spring advances lightly, Spreading itself on all sides brightly, Out of its rich and full supply Open – handed, lavishly. Since all colours you discern, No one colour may you learn: All tints melted into one In a sweet confusion, You cannot tell ‘ tis that or this, So shifting is the loveliness: Gleams as of the peacock’s crest, Or such as on dove’s neck rest; Opal, edg’d with amethyst, Or the sunset’s purpl’d mist, Or the splendour that there lies In a maiden’s azure eyes, Kindling in a sweet surprise: Flower-tints , shell-tints, tender-dy’d, Save to curious unespied: Lo, one BUBBLE follows t’other, Differing still from its frail brother, Striking still from change to change With a quick and vivid range. There in the contiguous wave Torches palely – glist’ning lave; Here what delicate love – lights shine! Through them near flames bick’ring shine. Matching flushing of the rose, As the ruddy channel flows: Milky rivers in white tide Lucent, hush, still onwards glide: Purple rivers in high flood Red as is man’s awful blood: Corn-fields smiling goldenly Meet the blue laugh of the sea: Mist – clouds sailing on their way Darken the changeful cheeks of Day: And beneath vine – clusters red Lilies are transfigured: Here you mark as ’twere the snows Folding o’er the neighb’ring rose; Snow into blown roses flushing, Roses wearied of their blushing, As the shifting tints embrace, And their course you scarce can trace: Now retiring, now advancing, Now in wanton mazes dancing; Now a flow’ry red appears, Now a purpl’d green careers . All the signs in heaven that burn Where the gliding wheel doth turn, Here in radiant courses go, As though ‘ twere a heaven below: The sky’s mazes involute Circling onward with deft foot, Sphere on heavenly sphere attending, Coming, going, inter-blending: And the gold-fleec’d flocks of air Wand’ring inviolate and fair; Flocks that drink in chaste delight Dewy pastures of the Night, Leaving no trace of foot or bite . Whate’er of change above you note, As these clouds o’er heaven float, Lo, repeated here we see In a sportive mimicry. Here the tiny tender world Within its own brightness furl’d Wavers , as in fairy robe ‘Twere a belted lined globe. Lights as of the breaking Day Tremble with iridescent play, But now swiftly upward going, Evanescent colours showing, In some nook their beams concealing, Nor their wantonness revealing. O , what store of wonders here In this short – liv’d slender SPHERE! For all wonders I have told Are within its GLOBE enrolld: Not such globe as skilled he Fashion’d of old in Sicily: Brighter e’en than crystals are, And than crystal frailer far. “I am Spirit of the Wind, For a flitting breath design’d; I am Blossom born of air; I’m of Ocean, guiding Star; I’m a golden sport of Nature, Frolic stamp’d on ev’ry feature: I’m a myth, an idle theme, The brief substance of a dream; Grace and grief of trifles, I Charm-a well-skill’d vanity; Begotten of the treacherous breeze, Parent of absurdities: Yet, a drop or mote, at best, Favour’d more than are the rest. I’m price of Hope that no more is, One of the Hesperides: Beauty’s casket, doating eye Of lovers blinded wilfully: The light Spirit of Vanity. I am Fortune’s looking – glass, The countersign which she doth pass To her troop of warriors: I’m the oath by which she swears, And wherewith she doth induce Men to trust a fragile truce. Charming, provoking, still astray, Fair and elegant and gay, Trim and fresh and blossom- hu’d; Interchangeably imbu’d With rosy – red and the snow’s whiteness, Air and water and fire’s brightness: Painted, gemm’d, of golden dye, NOTHING – after all.– -am I!

Aleister Crowley “A Ballad of Passive Paederasty”

Of man’s delight and man’s desire
In one thing is no weariness —
To feel the fury of the fire,
And writhe within the close caress
Of fierce embrace, and wanton kiss,
And final nuptial done aright,
How sweet a passion, shame, is this,
A strong man’s love is my delight!

Free women cast a lustful eye
On my gigantic charms, and seek
By word and touch with me to lie,
And vainly proffer cunt and cheek;
Then, angry, they miscall me weak,
Till one, divining me aright,
Points to her buttocks, whispers ” Greek! “
A strong man’s love is my delight!

Boys tempt my lips to wanton use,
And show their tongues, and smile awry,
And wonder why I should refuse
To feel their buttocks on the sly,
And kiss their genitals, and cry:
” Ah! Ganymede, grant me one night! “
This is the one sweet mystery:
A strong man’s love is my delight!

To feel him clamber on me, laid
Prone on the couch of lust and shame,
To feel him force me like a maid
And his great sword within me flame,
His breath as hot and quick as fame;
To kiss him and to clasp him tight;
This is my joy without a name,
A strong man’s love is my delight.

To feel again his love grow grand
Touched by the languor of my kiss;
To suck the hot blood from my gland
Mingled with fierce spunk that doth hiss,
And boils in sudden spurted bliss;
Ah! God! the long-drawn lusty fight!
Grant me eternity of this!
A strong man’s love is my delight!

ENVOI

Husband, come early to my bed,
And stay beyond the dawn of light
In mighty deeds of lustihead.
A strong man’s love is my delight!

Aleister Crowley “Dedicace”

You crown me king and queen. There is a name
For whose soft sound I would abandon all
This pomp. I liefer would have had you call
Some soft sweet title of beloved shame.
Gold coronets be seemly, but bright flame
I choose for diadem; I would let fall
All crowns, all kingdoms, for one rhythmical
Caress of thine, one kiss my soul to tame.

You crown me king and queen: I crown thee lover!
I bid thee hasten, nay, I plead with thee,
Come in the thick dear darkness to my bed.
Heed not my sighs, but eagerly uncover,
As our mouths mingle, my sweet infamy,
And rob thy lover of his maidenhead.

Lie close; no pity, but a little love.
Kiss me but once and all my pain is paid.
Hurt me or soothe, stretch out one limb above
Like a strong man who would constrain a maid.
Touch me; I shudder and my lips turn back
Over my shoulder if so be that thus
My mouth may find thy mouth, if aught there lack
To thy desire, till love is one with us.

God! I shall faint with pain, I hide my face
For shame. I am disturbed, I cannot rise,
I breathe hard with thy breath; thy quick embrace
Crushes; thy teeth are agony—pain dies
In deadly passion. Ah! you come-you kill me!
Christ! God! Bite! Bite! Ah Bite! Love’s fountains fill me.

Aleister Crowley “Go into the Highways and Hedges, And Compel Them to Come In”

Let my fond lips but drink thy golden wine,
My bright-eyed Arab, only let me eat
The rich brown globes of sacramental meat
Steaming and firm, hot from their home divine,
And let me linger with thy hands in mine,
And lick the sweat from dainty dirty feet
Fresh with the loose aroma of the street,
And then anon I’ll glue my mouth to thine.

This is the height of joy, to lie and feel
Thy spiced spittle trickle down my throat;
This is more pleasant than at dawn to steal
Toward lawns and sunny brooklets, and to gloat
Over earth’s peace, and hear in ether float
Songs of soft spirits into rapture peal.

Aleister Crowley “Rondels”

I

Maid of dark eyes, that glow with shy sweet fire,
Song lingers on thy beauty till it dies
In awe and longing on the smitten lyre:
Maid of dark eyes.
Grant me thy love, earth’s last surpassing prize,
Me, cast upon the faggots of love’s pyre
For love of the white bosom that underlies

The subtle passion of thy snowy attire,
The shadowy secret of thine amorous thighs,
The inmost shrine of my supreme desire,
Maid of dark eyes!

2

Boy of red lips, pale face, and golden hair,
Of dreamy eyes of love, and finger-tips
Rosy with youth, too fervid and too fair,

Boy of red lips.

How the fond ruby rapier glides and slips
‘Twixt the white hills thou spreadest for me there;
How my red mouth immortal honey sips
From thy ripe kisses, and sucks nectar rare
When each the shrine of God Priapus clips
In hot mouth passionate more than man may bear,
Boy of red lips!

Countee Cullen “The Wind Bloweth Where It Listeth”

“Live like the wind,” he said, “unfettered,
And love me while you can;
And when you will, and can be bettered,
Go to the better man.
For you’ll grow weary, maybe, sleeping
So long a time with me:
Like this there’ll be no cause for weeping –
The wind is always free.”
“Go when you please,” he would be saying,
His mouth hard on her own:
That’s why she stayed and loved the staying,
Contented to the bone.
And now he’s dust, and him but twenty,
Frost that was like a flame.
Her kisses on the head death bent, he
Gave answer to his name.
And now he’s dust and with dust lying
In sullen arrogance:
Death found it hard, for all his trying,
To shatter such a lance.
She laid him out as fine as any
That had a priest and ring;
She never spared a silver penny
For cost of anything.

E. E. Cummings “I like my body when it is with your”

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

E. E. Cummings “May i feel said he”

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let’s go said he
not too far said she
what’s too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
it is love said she)
if you’re willing said he
(but you’re killing said she

but it’s life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don’t stop said she
oh nn said he)
go slow said she

(cccome?said he
ummm said she
you’re divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)

E. E. Cummings “My sweet old etcetera”

my sweet old etcetera
aunt lucy during the recent

war could and what
is more did tell you just
what everybody was fighting

for,
my sister

Isabel created hundreds
(and
hundreds) of socks not to
mention fleaproof earwarmers
etcetera wristers etcetera, my
mother hoped that

i would die etcetera
bravely of course my father used
to become hoarse talking about how it was
a privilege and if only he
could meanwhile my

self etcetera lay quietly
in the deep mud et

cetera
(dreaming,
et
cetera, of
Your smile
eyes knees and of your Etcetera)

James Cushing “Lover Man”

Give it all back, even what you were just handed,
He told me, because only then can the dark magic
Begin. He told me a lot of stuff like that.
His fifty-cigarette voice crawled beach to beach
Without him, stopping to lecture seaweed pods
Or shout away gulls who still come back
To land on him. […]

Charlotte Dacre “The Kiss”

THE greatest bliss
Is in a kiss—
A kiss of love refin’d,
When springs the soul
Without controul,
And blends the bliss with mind.

For if desire
Alone inspire,
The kiss not me can charm;
The eye must beam
With chasten’d gleam
That would my soul disarm.

What fond delight
Does love excite
When sentiment takes part!
The falt’ring sigh,
Voluptuous eye,
And palpitating heart.

Ye fleet too fast—
Sweet moment, last
A little longer mine!
Like Heaven’s bow
Ye fade—ye go;
Too tremulously fine!

Dafydd ap Gwilym “The Rattle Bag”

As I lay, fullness of praise
On a summer day under
Trees between field and mountain
Awaiting my soft-voiced girl,
She came, there’s no denying,
Where she vowed, a very moon.
Together we sat, fine theme,
The girl and I, debating,
Trading, while I had the right,
Words with the splendid maiden.
And so we were, she was shy,
Learning to love each other,
Concealing sin, winning mead,
An hour lying together,
And then, cold comfort, it came,
A blare, a bloody nuisance,
A sack’s bottom’s foul seething
From an imp in shepherd’s shape,
Who had, public enemy,
A harsh-horned sag-cheeked rattle.
He played, cramped yellow belly,
This bag, curse its scabby leg.
So before satisfaction
The sweet girl panicked: poor me!
When she heard, feeble-hearted,
The stones whir, she would not stay.
By Christ, no Christian country,
Cold harsh tune, has heard the like.
Noisy pouch perched on a pole,
Bell of pebbles and gravel,
Saxon rocks making music
Quaking in a bullock’s skin,
Crib of three thousand beetles,
Commotion’s cauldron, black bag,
Field-keeper, comrade of straw,
Black-skinned, pregnant with splinters,
Noise that’s an old buck’s loathing,
Devil’s bell, stake in its crotch,
Scarred pebble-bearing belly,
May it be sliced into thongs.
May the churl be struck frigid,
Amen, who scared off my girl.

Fazil Hüsnü Daǧlarca “Day Within a Day”

You awoke
So you must have loved
You have loved
So you are awake

Arnaut Daniel “The Art of Love”

Tot jorn meillur et esmeri car la gensor serv e coli del mon–so. us dic en apert; sieus sui del pe tro c’en cima, e si tot venta. ill freid’aura l’Amors, q’inz el cor mi plou, mi ten chaut on plus iverna. […]

Each day I am a better man and purer, for I serve the noblest lady in the world, and I worship her, I tell you this in the open. I belong to her from my foot to the top of my head; and let the cold wind blow, love raining in my heart keeps me warm when it winters most. […]

Arnaut Daniel “The Firm desire which enters”

Del core li fos non de l’arma e cossentis m’a celat deniz sa cambra que plus mi nafra’l cor que colps de verga car lo sieus sers lai on ill es non intra totz temps serai ab lieis cum carns et ongla, E no creirai chatic de’amic ni d’oncle. […]

Would that in body I were hers, but not in soul, And that she’d hide me within her chamber; For it wounds my heart more than blows of rod That I, her serf, can never therein enter. I shall be with her as flesh and nail And heed no reproach of friend or uncle. […]

Dante Alighieri “Sestina: Of the Lady Pietra degli Scrovigni”

Guido, i’ vorrei che tu e Lapo ed io fossimo presi per incantamento e messi in un vasel, ch’ad ogni vento per mare andasse al voler vostro e mio; sì che fortuna od altro tempo rio non ci potesse dare impedimento, anzi, vivendo sempre in un talento, di stare insieme crescesse ’l disio. E monna Vanna e monna Lagia poi con quella ch’è sul numer de le trenta con noi ponesse il buono incantatore: e quivi ragionar sempre d’amore, e ciascuna di lor fosse contenta, sì come i’ credo che saremmo noi.

‘Guido, I wish that you and Lapo and I, Spirited on the wings of a magic spell, Could drift in a ship where every rising swell Would sweep us at our will across the skies; Then tempest never, or any weather dire 5 Could ever make our blissful living cease; No, but abiding in a steady, blessed peace Together we’d share the increase of desire. And Lady Vanna and Lady Lagia then And she who looms above the thirty best 10 Would join us at the good enchanter’s behest; And there we’d talk of Love without an end To make those ladies happy in the sky – With Lapo enchanted too, and you and I.’

Ruben Darío “I Love, You Love”

Amar, amar, amar, amar siempre, con todo el ser y con la tierra y con el cielo, con lo claro del sol y lo oscuro del lodo: Amar por toda ciencia y amar por todo anhelo. Y cuando la montaña de la vida nos sea dura y larga y alta y llena de abismos, Amar la inmensidad que es de amor encendida ¡y arder en la fusión de nuestros pechos mismos!

Loving, loving, loving, loving always, with everything the being and with the earth and with the sky, with the light of the sun and the dark of the mud: Love for all science and love for all desire. And when the mountain of life be hard and long and high and full of abysses, Loving the immensity that is of love on And burn in the fusion of our own breasts!

George Darley “It Is Not Beauty I Demand”

It is not Beauty I demand,
A crystal brow, the moon’s despair,
Nor the snow’s daughter, a white hand,
Nor mermaid’s yellow pride of hair.

Tell me not of your starry eyes,
Your lips that seem on roses fed,
Your breasts where Cupid trembling lies,
Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed.

A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks,
Like Hebe’s in her ruddiest hours,
A breath that softer music speaks
Than summer winds a-wooing flowers.

These are but gauds; nay, what are lips?
Coral beneath the ocean-stream,
Whose brink when your adventurer sips
Full oft he perisheth on them.

And what are cheeks but ensigns oft
That wave hot youth to fields of blood?
Did Helen’s breast though ne’er so soft,
Do Greece or Ilium any good?

Eyes can with baleful ardor burn,
Poison can breath that erst perfumed,
There’s many a white hand holds an urn
With lovers’ hearts to dust consumed.

For crystal brows–there’s naught within,
They are but empty cells for pride;
He who the Syren’s hair would win
Is mostly strangled in the tide.

Give me, instead of beauty’s bust,
A tender heart, a loyal mind,
Which with temptation I could trust,
Yet never linked with error find.

One in whose gentle bosom I
Could pour my secret heart of woes.
Like the care-burdened honey-fly
That hides his murmurs in the rose.

My earthly comforter! whose love
So indefeasible might be,
That when my spirit won above
Hers could not stay for sympathy.

George Darley “Song: ‘Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers’

SWEET in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers,
Lull’d by the faint breezes sighing through her hair;
Sleeps she and hears not the melancholy numbers
Breathed to my sad lute ’mid the lonely air.

Down from the high cliffs the rivulet is teeming 5
To wind round the willow banks that lure him from above:
O that in tears, from my rocky prison streaming,
I too could glide to the bower of my love!

Ah! where the woodbines with sleepy arms have wound her,
Opes she her eyelids at the dream of my lay, 10
Listening, like the dove, while the fountains echo round her,
To her lost mate’s call in the forests far away.

Come then, my bird! For the peace thou ever bearest,
Still Heaven’s messenger of comfort to me—
Come—this fond bosom, O faithfullest and fairest, 15
Bleeds with its death-wound, its wound of love for thee!

Mack David, Joan Whitney, & Alex Kramer “Candy”

Candy, I call my sugar Candy
Because I’m sweet on Candy
And Candy’s sweet on me
He/She understands me
My understanding Candy
And Candy’s always handy
When I need sympathy
I wish that there were four of him/her
So I could love much more of him/her
He/She has taken my complete heart
Got a sweet tooth for my sweetheart
Candy, it’s gonna be just dandy
The day I take my Candy
And make him/her mine, all mine

John Davies “The sacred muse that first made love divine”

The sacred muse that first made love divine
Hath made him naked and without attire,
But I will clothe him with this pen of mine
That all the world his fashion shall admire:
His hat of hope, his band of beauty fine,
His cloak of craft, his doublet of desire;
Grief for a girdle shall about him twine;
His points of pride, his eyelet-holes of ire,
His hose of hate, his codpiece of conceit,
His stockings of stern strife, his shirt of shame,
His garters of vainglory, gay and slight,
His pantoufles of passions I will frame;
Pumps of presumption shall adorn his feet
And socks of sullenness exceeding sweet.

Mary Carolyn Davies “Love Song”

There is a strong wall about me to protect me:
It is built of the words you have said to me.

There are swords about me to keep me safe:
They are the kisses of your lips.

Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm:
It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger.

All the wishes of my mind know your name,
And the white desires of my heart
They are acquainted with you.
The cry of my body for completeness,
That is a cry to you.
My blood beats out your name to me,
unceasing, pitiless
Your name, your name.

Giles de Gillies “De Puerorum osculis”

Red mouths of lads for love God made:
God mindeth ever poor wights’ ease;–
Yet men His kindly Will gainsayed!

In seemly innocence arrayed
To be in sooth, a grace to please,–
Red lips of lads for love God made.

He weened that Love might there be stayed
That steals into the blood to tease;–
Yet men His kindly Will gainsayed.

Ah, pretty kisses they had prayed
Did not cold Pride their duty seize:–
Red mouths of lads for Love God made;
Yet men His kindly Will gainsayed!

Eddie De Lange & Jimmy Van Heusen “Shake Down the Stars”

Shake down the stars,
Pull down the clouds,
Turn off the moon,
Do it soon!
I can’t enjoy this night without you,
Shake down the stars.

Dry up the streams,
Stop all my dreams,
Cut off the breeze,
Do it please!
I never thought I’d cry about you,
Shake down the stars.

I gave you ny arms, my lips, my heart,
My love, my life, my all;
But the best that I had to offer you
I found was all too small.

Crush every rose,
Hush every prayer,
Break every vow,
Do it now!
I know I cannot live without you,
Shake down the stars.

Frances Densmore “I Have Found My Lover”

niä nin’denĕn’dŭm niä nin’denĕn’dŭm me’kawaiä’nin nin’imucĕn niä nin’denĕn’dŭm

Oh, I am thinking Oh, I am thinking I have found my lover Oh, I think it is so.

Paul Dermée “Agrafes d’Argent” “Silver Clasps”

L’oreille ouverte rien ne bouge Un cri voilà qu’un vent tranchant fait tomber les brandons pourpres Vole la flamme allume la joue Une table pour s’accouder […]

The ear open nothing moves A cry and there a cutting wind makes the purple firebrands fall Steal the flame light the cheek A table to lean the elbow on […]

Paul Dermée “These apples”

Ces pommes et la blancheur du compotier La pointe du couteau a fait une blessure Ton linge soulevé le sein parait La lune Des lèvres Mon désir nocturne se ranime

These apples and the whiteness of the bowl The tip of the knife has made a wound Your underlinen raised the breast appears The moon Lips My nocturnal desire revives

B. G. De Sylva, Ballard MacDonald & George Gershwin “Somebody Loves Me”

Somebody loves me, I wonder who
I wonder who she can be
Somebody loves me, I wish I knew
Who she can be worries me

For ev’ry girl who passes me, I shout
“hey! maybe you were meant to be my lovin’ baby? “
Somebody loves me, I wonder who
Maybe it’s you!

James Dickey “Cherrylog Road”

I held her and held her and held her,
Convoyed at terrific speed
By the stalled, dreaming traffic around us,
So the blacksnake, stiff
With inaction, curved back
Into life, and hunted the mouse
With deadly overexcitement,
The beetles reclaimed their field
As we clung, glued together, […]

Emily Dickinson “Wild Nights–Wild Nights!

Wild nights – Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah – the Sea!
Might I but moor – tonight –
In thee!

Howard Dietz & Arthur Schwartz “Dancing in the Dark” (music)

Dancing in the dark,
Till the tune ends
We’re dancing in the dark,
And it soon ends.
We’re waltzing in the wonder
Of why we’re here;
Time hurries by,
We’re here and gone.
Looking for the light
Of a new love
To brighten up the night.
I have you to love,
And we can face the music together;
Dancing in the dark.

What though love is old?
What though song is old?
Through them we can be young.
Hear this heart of mine
Make yours part of mine.
Dear one, tell me that we’re one!
Dancing in the dark!

Howard Dietz & Arthur Schwartz “Haunted Heart”

In the night, though we’re apart,
There’s a ghost of you within my haunted heart.
Ghost of you, my last romance,
Lips that laugh, eyes that dance.

Haunted heart won’t let me be,
Dreams repeat a sweet but lonely song to me.
Dreams are dust, it’s you who must belong to me
And thrill my haunted heart,
Be still my haunted heart.

Ghost of you, my last romance,
Lips that laugh, eyes that dance.

Haunted heart won’t let me be,
Dreams repeat a sweet but lonely song to me.
Dreams are dust, it’s you who must belong to me
And thrill my haunted heart,
Be still my haunted heart.

Howard Dietz & Arthur Schwartz “You and the Night and the Music”

You and the night and the music
Fill me with flaming desire
Setting my being completely on fire

You and the night and the music
Thrill me, but will we be one
After the night and the music are done?

Until the pale light of dawning and daylight
Our hearts will be throbbing guitars
Morning may come without warning
And take away the stars

If we must live for the moment
Love till the moment is through
After the night and the music die
Will I have you?

Diophanes of Myrina “On Love”

Love’s thrice a robber, however you take it:
He’s desperate, sleepless, and he strips you naked.

Walter Donaldson “Because My Baby Don’t Mean Maybe Now”

Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

Everything is lovely
The world is so serene
When I say things are lovely
You know just what I mean
It means that I’ll be happy
No more I’ll have to guess
I feel so oh-so happy
Since someone answered yes

Birds are singing merrily
The sun is shining peacefully
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

When the preacher questions me
I’ll say “yes, sir, yessiree”
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

I just got a little letter
Just yesterday
Now I feel a little better
And so I say…

Life is short and mighty sweet
But I know mine is quite complete
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

Birds are singing merrily
Sun is shining peacefully
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

When the preacher questions me
I’ll say “yes, sir, yessiree”
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

I just got a little letter
Just yesterday
Now I feel a little better
And so, so I say…

Life is short, mighty sweet
But I know mine is quite complete
Because my baby don’t mean maybe
Maybe now

Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

Everything is lovely
The world is so serene
When I say things are lovely
You know just what I mean
It means that I’ll be happy
No more I’ll have to guess
I feel so oh-so happy
Since someone answered yes

Birds are singing merrily
The sun is shining peacefully
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

When the preacher questions me
I’ll say “yes, sir, yessiree”
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

I just got a little letter
Just yesterday
Now I feel a little better
And so I say…

Life is short and mighty sweet
But I know mine is quite complete
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

Birds are singing merrily
Sun is shining peacefully
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

When the preacher questions me
I’ll say “yes, sir, yessiree”
Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

I just got a little letter
Just yesterday
Now I feel a little better
And so, so I say…

Life is short, mighty sweet
But I know mine is quite complete
Because my baby don’t mean maybe
Maybe now

Man Art Naked Muscles Pose Body Skin Male

John Donne “Air and Angels”

Twice or thrice had I lov’d thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame
Angels affect us oft, and worshipp’d be;
Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Some lovely glorious nothing I did see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
More subtle than the parent is
Love must not be, but take a body too;
And therefore what thou wert, and who,
I bid Love ask, and now
That it assume thy body, I allow,
And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.

Whilst thus to ballast love I thought,
And so more steadily to have gone,
With wares which would sink admiration,
I saw I had love’s pinnace overfraught;
Ev’ry thy hair for love to work upon
Is much too much, some fitter must be sought;
For, nor in nothing, nor in things
Extreme, and scatt’ring bright, can love inhere;
Then, as an angel, face, and wings
Of air, not pure as it, yet pure, doth wear,
So thy love may be my love’s sphere;
Just such disparity
As is ‘twixt air and angels’ purity,
‘Twixt women’s love, and men’s, will ever be.

John Donne “The Anniversary”

All Kings, and all their favourites,
All glory of honours, beauties, wits,
The sun itself, which makes times, as they pass,
Is elder by a year now than it was
When thou and I first one another saw:
All other things to their destruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday,
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.

Two graves must hide thine and my corse;
If one might, death were no divorce.
Alas, as well as other Princes, we
(Who Prince enough in one another be)
Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears,
Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears;
But souls where nothing dwells but love
(All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove
This, or a love increasèd there above,
When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove.

And then we shall be throughly blessed;
But we no more than all the rest.
Here upon earth we’re Kings, and none but we
Can be such Kings, nor of such subjects be;
Who is so safe as we? where none can do
Treason to us, except one of us two.
True and false fears let us refrain,
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore: this is the second of our reign.

John Donne “The Bait”

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

There will the river whispering run
Warm’d by thy eyes, more than the sun;
And there the ‘enamour’d fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be’st loth,
By sun or moon, thou dark’nest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net.

Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest;
Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies,
Bewitch poor fishes’ wand’ring eyes.

For thee, thou need’st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait:
That fish, that is not catch’d thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.

John Donne “The Canonization”

For God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love,
Or chide my palsy, or my gout,
My five gray hairs, or ruined fortune flout,
With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve,
Take you a course, get you a place,
Observe his honor, or his grace,
Or the king’s real, or his stampèd face
Contemplate; what you will, approve,
So you will let me love.

Alas, alas, who’s injured by my love?
What merchant’s ships have my sighs drowned?
Who says my tears have overflowed his ground?
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
When did the heats which my veins fill
Add one more to the plaguy bill?
Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
Litigious men, which quarrels move,
Though she and I do love.

Call us what you will, we are made such by love;
Call her one, me another fly,
We’re tapers too, and at our own cost die,
And we in us find the eagle and the dove.
The phœnix riddle hath more wit
By us; we two being one, are it.
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
We die and rise the same, and prove
Mysterious by this love.

We can die by it, if not live by love,
And if unfit for tombs and hearse
Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
We’ll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
And by these hymns, all shall approve
Us canonized for Love.

And thus invoke us: “You, whom reverend love
Made one another’s hermitage;
You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;
Who did the whole world’s soul contract, and drove
Into the glasses of your eyes
(So made such mirrors, and such spies,
That they did all to you epitomize)
Countries, towns, courts: beg from above
A pattern of your love!”

John Donne “Confined Love”

Some man unworthy to be possessor
Of old or new love, himself being false or weak,
Thought his pain and shame would be lesser,
If on womankind he might his anger wreak ;
And thence a law did grow,
One might but one man know ;
But are other creatures so?

Are sun, moon, or stars by law forbidden
To smile where they list, or lend away their light?
Are birds divorced or are they chidden
If they leave their mate, or lie abroad a night?
Beasts do no jointures lose
Though they new lovers choose ;
But we are made worse than those.

Who e’er rigg’d fair ships to lie in harbours,
And not to seek lands, or not to deal with all?
Or built fair houses, set trees, and arbours,
Only to lock up, or else to let them fall?
Good is not good, unless
A thousand it possess,
But doth waste with greediness.

John Donne “The Dream”

Dear love, for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream;
It was a theme
For reason, much too strong for fantasy,
Therefore thou wak’d’st me wisely; yet
My dream thou brok’st not, but continued’st it.
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truths, and fables histories;
Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it best,
Not to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest.

As lightning, or a taper’s light,
Thine eyes, and not thy noise wak’d me;
Yet I thought thee
(For thou lovest truth) an angel, at first sight;
But when I saw thou sawest my heart,
And knew’st my thoughts, beyond an angel’s art,
When thou knew’st what I dreamt, when thou knew’st when
Excess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then,
I must confess, it could not choose but be
Profane, to think thee any thing but thee.

Coming and staying show’d thee, thee,
But rising makes me doubt, that now
Thou art not thou.
That love is weak where fear’s as strong as he;
‘Tis not all spirit, pure and brave,
If mixture it of fear, shame, honour have;
Perchance as torches, which must ready be,
Men light and put out, so thou deal’st with me;
Thou cam’st to kindle, goest to come; then I
Will dream that hope again, but else would die.

John Donne “The Ecstasy”

Where, like a pillow on a bed
A pregnant bank swell’d up to rest
The violet’s reclining head,
Sat we two, one another’s best.
Our hands were firmly cemented
With a fast balm, which thence did spring;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string;
So to’intergraft our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one,
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.
As ‘twixt two equal armies fate
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls (which to advance their state
Were gone out) hung ‘twixt her and me.
And whilst our souls negotiate there,
We like sepulchral statues lay;
All day, the same our postures were,
And we said nothing, all the day.
If any, so by love refin’d
That he soul’s language understood,
And by good love were grown all mind,
Within convenient distance stood,
He (though he knew not which soul spake,
Because both meant, both spake the same)
Might thence a new concoction take
And part far purer than he came.
This ecstasy doth unperplex,
We said, and tell us what we love;
We see by this it was not sex,
We see we saw not what did move;
But as all several souls contain
Mixture of things, they know not what,
Love these mix’d souls doth mix again
And makes both one, each this and that.
A single violet transplant,
The strength, the colour, and the size,
(All which before was poor and scant)
Redoubles still, and multiplies.
When love with one another so
Interinanimates two souls,
That abler soul, which thence doth flow,
Defects of loneliness controls.
We then, who are this new soul, know
Of what we are compos’d and made,
For th’ atomies of which we grow
Are souls, whom no change can invade.
But oh alas, so long, so far,
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They’are ours, though they’are not we; we are
The intelligences, they the spheres.
We owe them thanks, because they thus
Did us, to us, at first convey,
Yielded their senses’ force to us,
Nor are dross to us, but allay.
On man heaven’s influence works not so,
But that it first imprints the air;
So soul into the soul may flow,
Though it to body first repair.
As our blood labors to beget
Spirits, as like souls as it can,
Because such fingers need to knit
That subtle knot which makes us man,
So must pure lovers’ souls descend
T’ affections, and to faculties,
Which sense may reach and apprehend,
Else a great prince in prison lies.
To’our bodies turn we then, that so
Weak men on love reveal’d may look;
Love’s mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book.
And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see
Small change, when we’are to bodies gone.

John Donne “Farewell to Love”

WHILST yet to prove
I thought there was some deity in love,
So did I reverence, and gave
Worship ; as atheists at their dying hour
Call, what they cannot name, an unknown power,
As ignorantly did I crave.
Thus when
Things not yet known are coveted by men,
Our desires give them fashion, and so
As they wax lesser, fall, as they size, grow.

But, from late fair,
His highness sitting in a golden chair,
Is not less cared for after three days
By children, than the thing which lovers so
Blindly admire, and with such worship woo ;
Being had, enjoying it decays ;
And thence,
What before pleased them all, takes but one sense,
And that so lamely, as it leaves behind
A kind of sorrowing dulness to the mind.

Ah cannot we,
As well as cocks and lions, jocund be
After such pleasures, unless wise
Nature decreed—since each such act, they say,
Diminisheth the length of life a day—
This ; as she would man should despise
The sport,
Because that other curse of being short,
And only for a minute made to be
Eager, desires to raise posterity.

Since so, my mind
Shall not desire what no man else can find ;
I’ll no more dote and run
To pursue things which had endamaged me ;
And when I come where moving beauties be,
As men do when the summer’s sun
Grows great,
Though I admire their greatness, shun their heat.
Each place can afford shadows ; if all fail,
‘Tis but applying worm-seed to the tail.

John Donne “The Flea”

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w’are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that, self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph’st, and say’st that thou
Find’st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;
’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:
Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,
Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.

John Donne “The Good-Morrow”

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?
’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

John Donne “The Indifferent”

I can love both fair and brown,
Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want betrays,
Her who loves loneness best, and her who masks and plays,
Her whom the country formed, and whom the town,
Her who believes, and her who tries,
Her who still weeps with spongy eyes,
And her who is dry cork, and never cries;
I can love her, and her, and you, and you,
I can love any, so she be not true.

Will no other vice content you?
Will it not serve your turn to do as did your mothers?
Or have you all old vices spent, and now would find out others?
Or doth a fear that men are true torment you?
O we are not, be not you so;
Let me, and do you, twenty know.
Rob me, but bind me not, and let me go.
Must I, who came to travail thorough you,
Grow your fixed subject, because you are true?

Venus heard me sigh this song,
And by love’s sweetest part, variety, she swore,
She heard not this till now; and that it should be so no more.
She went, examined, and returned ere long,
And said, Alas! some two or three
Poor heretics in love there be,
Which think to ’stablish dangerous constancy.
But I have told them, Since you will be true,
You shall be true to them who are false to you.

John Donne “Love’s Alchemy”

Some that have deeper digg’d love’s mine than I,
Say, where his centric happiness doth lie;
I have lov’d, and got, and told,
But should I love, get, tell, till I were old,
I should not find that hidden mystery.
Oh, ’tis imposture all!
And as no chemic yet th’elixir got,
But glorifies his pregnant pot
If by the way to him befall
Some odoriferous thing, or medicinal,
So, lovers dream a rich and long delight,
But get a winter-seeming summer’s night.

Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day,
Shall we for this vain bubble’s shadow pay?
Ends love in this, that my man
Can be as happy’as I can, if he can
Endure the short scorn of a bridegroom’s play?
That loving wretch that swears
‘Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds,
Which he in her angelic finds,
Would swear as justly that he hears,
In that day’s rude hoarse minstrelsy, the spheres.
Hope not for mind in women; at their best
Sweetness and wit, they’are but mummy, possess’d.

John Donne “Love’s Deity”

I long to talk with some old lover’s ghost,
Who died before the god of love was born.
I cannot think that he, who then lov’d most,
Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn.
But since this god produc’d a destiny,
And that vice-nature, custom, lets it be,
I must love her, that loves not me.

Sure, they which made him god, meant not so much,
Nor he in his young godhead practis’d it.
But when an even flame two hearts did touch,
His office was indulgently to fit
Actives to passives. Correspondency
Only his subject was; it cannot be
Love, till I love her, that loves me.

But every modern god will now extend
His vast prerogative as far as Jove.
To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend,
All is the purlieu of the god of love.
O! were we waken’d by this tyranny
To ungod this child again, it could not be
I should love her, who loves not me.

Rebel and atheist too, why murmur I,
As though I felt the worst that love could do?
Love might make me leave loving, or might try
A deeper plague, to make her love me too;
Which, since she loves before, I’am loth to see.
Falsehood is worse than hate; and that must be,
If she whom I love, should love me.

John Donne “Love’s Growth”

I scarce believe my love to be so pure
As I had thought it was,
Because it doth endure
Vicissitude, and season, as the grass;
Methinks I lied all winter, when I swore
My love was infinite, if spring make’ it more.

But if medicine, love, which cures all sorrow
With more, not only be no quintessence,
But mixed of all stuffs paining soul or sense,
And of the sun his working vigor borrow,
Love’s not so pure, and abstract, as they use
To say, which have no mistress but their muse,
But as all else, being elemented too,
Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do.

And yet no greater, but more eminent,
Love by the spring is grown;
As, in the firmament,
Stars by the sun are not enlarged, but shown,
Gentle love deeds, as blossoms on a bough,
From love’s awakened root do bud out now.

If, as water stirred more circles be
Produced by one, love such additions take,
Those, like so many spheres, but one heaven make,
For they are all concentric unto thee;
And though each spring do add to love new heat,
As princes do in time of action get
New taxes, and remit them not in peace,
No winter shall abate the spring’s increase.

John Donne “Love’s Progress”

Who ever loves, if he do not propose
The right true end of love, he’s one that goes
To sea for nothing but to make him sick.
Love is a bear-whelp born: if we o’erlick
Our love, and force it new strange shapes to take,
We err, and of a lump a monster make.
Were not a calf a monster that were grown
Faced like a man, though better than his own?
Perfection is in unity: prefer
One woman first, and then one thing in her.
I, when I value gold, may think upon
The ductileness, the application,
The wholsomeness, the ingenuity,
From rust, from soil, from fire ever free;
But if I love it, ’tis because ’tis made
By our new nature (Use) the soul of trade.
All these in women we might think upon
(If women had them) and yet love but one.
Can men more injure women than to say
They love them for that by which they’re not they?
Makes virtue woman? Must I cool my blood
Till I both be, and find one, wise and good?
May barren angels love so! But if we
Make love to woman, virtue is not she,
As beauty’s not, nor wealth. He that strays thus
From her to hers is more adulterous
Than if he took her maid. Search every sphere
And firmament, our Cupid is not there;
He’s an infernal god, and under ground
With Pluto dwells, where gold and fire abound:
Men to such gods their sacrificing coals
Did not in altars lay, but pits and holes.
Although we see celestial bodies move
Above the earth, the earth we till and love:
So we her airs contemplate, words and heart
And virtues, but we love the centric part.
Nor is the soul more worthy, or more fit,
For love than this, as infinite is it.
But in attaining this desired place
How much they err that set out at the face.
The hair a forest is of ambushes,
Of springs, snares, fetters and manacles;
The brow becalms us when ’tis smooth and plain,
And when ’tis wrinkled shipwrecks us again—
Smooth, ’tis a paradise where we would have
Immortal stay, and wrinkled ’tis our grave.
The nose (like to the first meridian) runs
Not ‘twixt an East and West, but ‘twixt two suns;
It leaves a cheek, a rosy hemisphere,
On either side, and then directs us where
Upon the Islands Fortunate we fall,
(Not faint Canaries, but Ambrosial)
Her swelling lips; to which when we are come,
We anchor there, and think ourselves at home,
For they seem all: there Sirens’ songs, and there
Wise Delphic oracles do fill the ear;
There in a creek where chosen pearls do swell,
The remora, her cleaving tongue doth dwell.
These, and the glorious promontory, her chin,
O’erpassed, and the straight Hellespont between
The Sestos and Abydos of her breasts,
(Not of two lovers, but two loves the nests)
Succeeds a boundless sea, but yet thine eye
Some island moles may scattered there descry;
And sailing towards her India, in that way
Shall at her fair Atlantic navel stay;
Though thence the current be thy pilot made,
Yet ere thou be where thou wouldst be embayed
Thou shalt upon another forest set,
Where many shipwreck and no further get.
When thou art there, consider what this chase
Misspent by thy beginning at the face.
Rather set out below; practise my art.
Some symetry the foot hath with that part
Which thou dost seek, and is thy map for that,
Lovely enough to stop, but not stay at;
Least subject to disguise and change it is—
Men say the devil never can change his.
It is the emblem that hath figured
Firmness; ’tis the first part that comes to bed.
Civility we see refined; the kiss
Which at the face began, transplanted is,
Since to the hand, since to the imperial knee,
Now at the papal foot delights to be:
If kings think that the nearer way, and do
Rise from the foot, lovers may do so too;
For as free spheres move faster far than can
Birds, whom the air resists, so may that man
Which goes this empty and ethereal way,
Than if at beauty’s elements he stay.
Rich nature hath in women wisely made
Two purses, and their mouths aversely laid:
They then which to the lower tribute owe
That way which that exchequer looks must go:
He which doth not, his error is as great
As who by clyster gave the stomach meat.

John Donne “Elegy VII: Nature’s lay idiot, I taught thee to love “

Nature’s lay idiot, I taught thee to love,
And in that sophistry, oh, thou dost prove
Too subtle: Fool, thou didst not understand
The mystic language of the eye nor hand:
Nor couldst thou judge the difference of the air
Of sighs, and say, this lies, this sounds despair:
Nor by the’eye’s water call a malady
Desperately hot, or changing feverously.
I had not taught thee then, the alphabet
Of flowers, how they devicefully being set
And bound up, might with speechless secrecy
Deliver errands mutely, and mutually.
Remember since all thy words used to be
To every suitor, “I, ’if my friends agree”;
Since, household charms, thy husband’s name to teach,
Were all the love-tricks, that thy wit could reach;
And since, an hour’s discourse could scarce have made
One answer in thee, and that ill arrayed
In broken proverbs, and torn sentences.
Thou art not by so many duties his,
That from the’world’s common having severed thee,
Inlaid thee, neither to be seen, nor see,
As mine: who have with amorous delicacies
Refined thee’into a blissful paradise.
Thy graces and good words my creatures be;
I planted knowledge and life’s tree in thee,
Which oh, shall strangers taste? Must I alas
Frame and enamel plate, and drink in glass?
Chafe wax for others’ seals? break a colt’s force
And leave him then, being made a ready horse?

John Donne “The Sun Rising”

Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices,
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams, so reverend and strong
Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long;
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and tomorrow late, tell me,
Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.

She’s all states, and all princes, I,
Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honor’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus.
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere.

John Donne “To His Mistress Going to Bed”

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
Is tir’d with standing though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven’s Zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
That th’eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime,
Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th’hill’s shadow steals.
Off with that wiry Coronet and shew
The hairy Diadem which on you doth grow:
Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
In this love’s hallow’d temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes, heaven’s Angels used to be
Received by men; Thou Angel bringst with thee
A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know,
By this these Angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go,
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d,
My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie,
How blest am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,
That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a Gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
For lay-men, are all women thus array’d;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see reveal’d. Then since that I may know;
As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew
Thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
There is no penance due to innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first; why then
What needst thou have more covering than a man.

Hilda Doolittle “So I would rather drown, remembering”

So I would rather drown, remembering—
than bask on tropic atolls

in the coral-seas; I would rather drown,
remembering—than rest on pine or fir-branch

where great stars pour down
their generating strength, Arcturus

or the sapphires of the Northern Crown;
I would rather beat in the wind, crying to those others;

yours is the more foolish circling,
yours is the senseless wheeling

round and round—yours has no reason—
I am seeking heaven;

yours has no vision,
I see what is beneath me, what is above me,

what men say is-not—I remember,
I remember, I remember—you have forgot:

you think, even before it is half-over,
that your cycle is at an end,

but you repeat your foolish circling—again, again,
again;
again, the steel sharpened on the stone;

again, the pyramid of skulls;
I gave pity to the dead,

O blasphemy, pity is a stone for bread,
only love is holy and love’s ecstasy

that turns and turns and turns about one centre;
reckless, regardless, blind to reality,

that knows the Islands of the Blest are there,
for many waters can not quench love’s fire.

Hilda Doolittle “When in the company of the gods”

His, the track in the sand
from a plum-tree in flower

to a half-open hut-door,
(or track would have been

but wind blows sand-prints from the sand,
whether seen or unseen):

His, the Genius in the jar
which the Fisherman finds,

He is Mage,
bringing myrrh. […]

Mary Dorcey “Night”

I remember your neck, its strength
and the sweetness of the skin at your throat.
I remember your hair, long, in our way
drawing it back from my mouth.
How my hands slid the low plain of your back
thrown by the sudden flaunt of your lions.
I remember your voice, the first low break
and at last the long flight
losing us to darkness.
And your lips along my shoulder,
more sure, even than I had imagined –
how I guarded their track.
I ask you then what am I to do with all these
memories
heavy and full?
Hold them, quiet, between my two hands,
as I would if I could again
your hard breasts?

Lord Alfred Douglas “Two Loves”

I dreamed I stood upon a little hill,
And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed
Like a waste garden, flowering at its will
With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed
Black and unruffled; there were white lilies
A few, and crocuses, and violets
Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries
Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets
Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.
And there were curious flowers, before unknown,
Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades
Of Nature’s willful moods; and here a one
That had drunk in the transitory tone
Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades
Of grass that in an hundred springs had been
Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,
And watered with the scented dew long cupped
In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen
Only God’s glory, for never a sunrise mars
The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt,
A grey stone wall. o’ergrown with velvet moss
Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed
To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair.
And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across
The garden came a youth; one hand he raised
To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair
Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore
A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes
Were clear as crystal, naked all was he,
White as the snow on pathless mountains frore,
Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyes
A marble floor, his brow chalcedony.
And he came near me, with his lips uncurled
And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,
And gave me grapes to eat, and said, ‘Sweet friend,
Come I will show thee shadows of the world
And images of life. See from the South
Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.’
And lo! within the garden of my dream
I saw two walking on a shining plain
Of golden light. The one did joyous seem
And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain
Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids
And joyous love of comely girl and boy,
His eyes were bright, and ‘mid the dancing blades
Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy;
And in his hand he held an ivory lute
With strings of gold that were as maidens’ hair,
And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute,
And round his neck three chains of roses were.
But he that was his comrade walked aside;
He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes
Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide
With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs
That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white
Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red
Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight,
And yet again unclenched, and his head
Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death.
A purple robe he wore, o’erwrought in gold
With the device of a great snake, whose breath
Was fiery flame: which when I did behold
I fell a-weeping, and I cried, ’Sweet youth,
Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove
These pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me sooth
What is thy name?’ He said, ‘My name is Love.’
Then straight the first did turn himself to me
And cried, ‘He lieth, for his name is Shame,
But I am Love, and I was wont to be
Alone in this fair garden, till he came
Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill
The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.’
Then sighing, said the other, ‘Have thy will,
I am the love that dare not speak its name.’

Rita Dove “Persephone Underground”

[…] Was she falling for him out of sheer boredom–
cooped up in this anything-but-humble dive, stone
gargoyles leering and brocade drapes licked with fire?
Her ankle burns where he described it. She sighs
just as her mother aboveground stumbles, is caught
by the fetlock–bereft in an instant–
while the Great Man drives home his desire.

Michael Dransfield “Memoirs of a Velvet Urinal”

when he touches me, it is true, a small
space turned in my belly; but
often he starts by brushing his red
fingers through my long, downy hair,
or kisses me. […]

Michael Drayton “And thus like slaves we sell our soules to sinne”

And thus like slaves we sell our soules to sinne,
Vertue forgot by worldes deceitfull trust,
Alone by pleasure are we entred in,
Now wandring in the labyrinth of lust,
For when the soule is drowned once in vice,
The sweete of sinne, makes hell a paradice.

Michael Drayton “O breake my hart quoth he, O breake and dye”

O breake my hart quoth he, O breake and dye,
Whose infant thoughts were nurst with sweete delight;
But now the Inne of care and miserie,
Whose pleasing hope is murthered with despight:
O end my dayes, for now my joyes are done,
Wanting my Peirs , my sweetest Gaveston .

Farewell my Love, companion of my youth,
My soules delight, the subject of my mirth,
My second selfe if I reporte the truth,
The rare and onely Phenix of the earth,
Farewell sweete friend, with thee my joyes are gone,
Farewell my Peirs , my lovely Gaveston .

What are the rest but painted Imagrie,
Dombe Idols made to fill up idle roomes,
But gaudie anticks, sportes of foolerie,
But fleshly coffins, goodly gilded tombes,
But puppets which with others words replie,
Like pratling ecchoes soothing every lie?

O damned world, I scorne thee and thy worth,
The very source of all iniquitie:
An ougly damme that brings such monsters forth,
The maze of death, nurse of impietie,
A filthie sinke, where lothsomnes doth dwell,
A labyrinth, a jayle, a very hell.

Deceitfull Siren traytor to my youth,
Bane to my blisse, false theefe that stealst my joyes:
Mother of lyes, sworne enemie to truth,
The ship of fooles fraught all with gaudes and toyes,
A vessell stuft with foule hypocrisie,
The very temple of Idolatrie.

O earth-pale Saturne most malevolent,
Combustious Planet, tyrant in thy raigne,
The sworde of wrath, the roote of discontent,
In whose ascendant all my joyes are slaine:
Thou executioner of foule bloodie rage,
To act the will of lame decrepit age.

My life is but a very mappe of woes,
My joyes the fruite of an untimely birth,
My youth in labour with unkindly throwes,
My pleasures are like plagues that raigne on earth,
All my delights like streames that swiftly run,
Or like the dewe exhaled by the Sun.

O Heavens why are you deafe unto my mone?
S’dayne you my prayers? or scorne to heare my misse?
Cease you to move, or is your pittie gone?
Or is it you that rob me of my blisse?
What are you blinde, or winke and will not see?
Or doe you sporte at my calamitie?

O breake my hart quoth he, O breake and dye,
Whose infant thoughts were nurst with sweete delight;
But now the Inne of care and miserie,
Whose pleasing hope is murthered with despight:
O end my dayes, for now my joyes are done,
Wanting my Peirs , my sweetest Gaveston .

Farewell my Love, companion of my youth,
My soules delight, the subject of my mirth,
My second selfe if I reporte the truth,
The rare and onely Phenix of the earth,
Farewell sweete friend, with thee my joyes are gone,
Farewell my Peirs , my lovely Gaveston .

What are the rest but painted Imagrie,
Dombe Idols made to fill up idle roomes,
But gaudie anticks, sportes of foolerie,
But fleshly coffins, goodly gilded tombes,
But puppets which with others words replie,
Like pratling ecchoes soothing every lie?

O damned world, I scorne thee and thy worth,
The very source of all iniquitie:
An ougly damme that brings such monsters forth,
The maze of death, nurse of impietie,
A filthie sinke, where lothsomnes doth dwell,
A labyrinth, a jayle, a very hell.

Deceitfull Siren traytor to my youth,
Bane to my blisse, false theefe that stealst my joyes:
Mother of lyes, sworne enemie to truth,
The ship of fooles fraught all with gaudes and toyes,
A vessell stuft with foule hypocrisie,
The very temple of Idolatrie.

O earth-pale Saturne most malevolent,
Combustious Planet, tyrant in thy raigne,
The sworde of wrath, the roote of discontent,
In whose ascendant all my joyes are slaine:
Thou executioner of foule bloodie rage,
To act the will of lame decrepit age.

My life is but a very mappe of woes,
My joyes the fruite of an untimely birth,
My youth in labour with unkindly throwes,
My pleasures are like plagues that raigne on earth,
All my delights like streames that swiftly run,
Or like the dewe exhaled by the Sun.

O Heavens why are you deafe unto my mone?
S’dayne you my prayers? or scorne to heare my misse?
Cease you to move, or is your pittie gone?
Or is it you that rob me of my blisse?
What are you blinde, or winke and will not see?
Or doe you sporte at my calamitie?

Michael Drayton “Idea 61: Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part “

Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of Love’s latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes—
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou might’st him yet recover!

Michael Drayton “This Edward in the Aprill of his age”

This Edward in the Aprill of his age,
Whil’st yet the Crowne sate on his fathers head
My Jove with me, his Ganimed, his page,
Frolick as May, a lustie life we led:

He might commaund, he was my Soveraigns sonne,
And what I saide, by hirn was ever done.

My words as lawes, Autentique he alloude,
Mine yea, by him was never crost with no,
All my conceite as currant he avowde,
And as my shadowe still he served so,

My hand the racket, he the tennis ball,
My voyces echo, answering every call.

My youth the glasse where he his youth beheld,
Roses his lipps, my breath sweete Nectar showers,
For in my face was natures fayrest field,
Ridhly adornd with Beauties rarest flowers.

My breast his pillow, where he laide his head,
Mine eyes his booke, my bosome was his bed.

My smiles were life, and Heaven unto his sight,
All his delight concluding my desier,
From my sweete surme, he borrowed all his light,
And as a flie play’d with my beauties fier,

His love-sick lippes at every kissing qualme,
Cling to my lippes, to cure their griefe with balme.

Like as the wanton Yvie with his twyne,
Whenas the Oake his rootlesse bodie warmes,
The straightest saplings strictly doth combyne,
Clipping the woodes with his laavious armes:

Such our imbraces when our sporte begins,
Lapt in our armes, like Ledas lovely Twins.

Or as Love-nursing Venus when she sportes,
With cherry-lipt Adonis in the shade,
Figuring her passions in a thousand sortes,
With sighes, and teares,or what else might perswade,

Her deere, her sweete, her joy, her life, her love,
Kissing his browe, his cheeke, his hand, his glove.

——– [GAP in TEXT ]

Sits shrouded in some melancholie brake
Chirping forth accents of her miserie

Thus halfe distracted sitting all alone,
With speaking sighs, to utter forth mv mone

My bewtie s’dayning to behold the light
Now weather-beaten with a thousand stormes,
My daintie lims must travaile day and night
Which oft were lulde in princely Edwards armes,

Those eyes where bewtie sate in all her pride,
With fearefull objects fild on every side.

The Prince so much astonisht with the blowe,
So that it seem’d as yet he felt no paine,
Untill at length awakned by his woe,
He sawe the wound by which his joyes were slaine,

His cares fresh bleeding fainting more and more,
No Cataplasmal now to cure the sore.

Lines 469-515 Edward’s Lament

O breake my hart quoth he, O breake and dye
Whose infant thoughts were nurst with sweete delight;
But now the Inne of care and miserie
Whose pleasing hope is murthered with despight:

O end my dayes, for now my joyes are done
Wanting my Peirs, my sweetest Gaveston.

Farewell my love, companion of my youth
My soules delight, the subject of my mirth,
My second selfe if I reporte the truth,
The rare and onely Phenix of the earth

Farewell sweete friend, with thee my joyes are gone,
farewell mv Peirs, my loveely Gaveston.

What are the rest but painted Imagrie,
Dombe Idols made to fill up idle roomes,
But gaudie anticks, sportes of foolerie,
But fleshly coffins, goodly gilded tombes,

But puppets which with others words replie,
Like pratling ecchoes soothing every lie?

O damned world, I scorne thee and thy worth,
The very source of all iniquitie:
An ougly damme that brings such monsters forth,
The maze of death, nurse of impietie,

A filthie sinke, where lothsomnes doth dwell,
A labyrinth, a jayle, a very hell.

Deceitfull Siren traytor to my youth,
Bane to my blisse, false theefe that stealst my joyes:
Mother of Iyes, sworne enemie to truth,
The ship of fooles fraught all with gaudes and toyes,

A vessell stuft with foule hypocrisie,
The very temple of Idolatrie.

O earth-pale Saturne most malevolent,
Combustious Planet, tyrant in thy raigne,
The sworde of wrath, the roote of discontent,
In whose ascendant all my joyes are slaine:

Thou executioner of foule bloodie rage,
To act the will of lame decrepit age.

My life is but a very mappe of woes,
My joyes the fruite of an untimely birth,
My youth in labour with unkindly throwes,
My pleasures are like plagues that raigne on earth,

All my delights like streames that swiftly run,
Or like the dewe exhaled by the Sun.

O Heavens why are you deafe unto my mone?
S’dayne you my prayers? or scorne to heare my misse?
Cease you to move, or is your pittie gone?
Or is it you that rob me of my blisse?

What are you blinde, or winke and will not see?
Or doe you sporte at mv calamitie?

Michael Drayton “Why doe I quake my down-fall to reporte”

Why doe I quake my down-fall to reporte?
Tell on my ghost, the storie of my woe,
The King commaunds, I must depart the court,
I aske no question, he will haue it so:
The Lyons roring, lesser beastes doe feare,
The greatest flye, when he approcheth neare.
My Prince is now appointed to his guarde,
As srom a traytor he is kept from me,
My banishment already is preparde,
Away I must, there is no remedie:
On paine of death I may no longer stay,
Such is reuenge which brooketh no delaye.
The skies with cloudes are all inuelloped,
The pitchie fogs eclipse my cheerfull Sunne,
The geatie night hath all her curtaines spred
And all the ayre with vapours ouerrun:
Wanting those rayes whose cleernes lent me light,
My sun-shine day is turn’d to black-fac’d night.
Like to the birde of Ledaes lemmans die,
Beating his breast against the siluer streame,
The fatall prophet of his destinie,
With mourning chants, his death approching theame:
So now I sing the dirges of my fall
The Anthemes of my fatall funerall.

Drieu la Rochelle “Tennis”

[…] La détente outrée de la balle l’éclatement blanc est restreint par les nattes de fer qui mesurent le ciel L’homme est confiné dans le vain exercise Une sagesse joyeuse enclôt la jeune troupe dans ses claires-voies Voici le lieu conquis

[…] The excessive relaxation of the ball the white burst is restricted by the iron mats which measure the sky Man is confined in vain exercise A joyful wisdom encloses the young troop in its skylights Here is the conquered place

Denise Duhamel “Sex with a Famous Poet”

My future-husband said
that he couldn’t be held responsible for his subconscious,
which worried me, which made me think his dreams
were full of blond vixens in rabbit-fur bikinis.
but he said no, he dreamt mostly about boulders
and the ocean and volcanoes, dangerous weather
he witnessed but could do nothing to stop. […]

Paul Laurence Dunbar “A Negro Love Song”

Seen my lady home las’ night,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hel’ huh han’ an’ sque’z it tight,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hyeahd huh sigh a little sigh,
Seen a light gleam f’om huh eye,
An’ a smile go flittin’ by —
Jump back, honey, jump back.

Hyeahd de win’ blow thoo de pine,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Mockin’-bird was singin’ fine,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
An’ my hea’t was beatin’ so,
When I reached my lady’s do’,
Dat I could n’t ba’ to go —
Jump back, honey, jump back.

Put my ahm aroun’ huh wais’,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Raised huh lips an’ took a tase,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Love me, honey, love me true?
Love me well ez I love you?
An’ she answe’d, “‘Cose I do”—
Jump back, honey, jump back.

Elder daughter of Otomo no Sakanoé “When we could have met”

When we could have met
Any time, any night,
Why did we do it–
Why did we choose that night to meet,
And all this thicket of talk?

Elizabeth I “On Monsieur’s Departure”

I grieve and dare not show my discontent,
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.
I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned,
Since from myself another self I turned.

My care is like my shadow in the sun,
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,
Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.
His too familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be supprest.

Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft and made of melting snow;
Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind.
Let me or float or sink, be high or low.
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die and so forget what love ere meant.

Paul Éluard “Lady Love”

She is standing on my eyelids
And her hair is in my hair
She has the color of my eye
She has the body of my hand
In my shade she is engulfed
As a stone against the sky

She will never close her eyes
And she does not let me sleep
And her dreams in the bright day
Make the suns evaporate
And me laugh cry and laugh
Speak when I have nothing to say

Paul Éluard, P & André Breton “The 32 Positions of Love” tr. Marcel Jean

[…] 20. When the man, proceeding with the problem, spins around and enjoys his mistress without leaving her, while she keeps his loins embraced, it is the perpetual calendar.

21. When the man and his mistress lean against each other’s body, or against a wall, and take on the problem in that upright position, it is a toast to the lumberjack.
22. When the man supports himself against a wall and the woman, sitting on his hands joined together and held underneath her, throws her arms around his neck and, putting her thighs alongside his waist, moves herself by her feet, which are touching the wall against which the man leans, it is the elopement in a boat.
23. When the woman stands on her hands and feet like a quadruped and the man remains standing, it is the earring.
24. When the woman stands on her hands and knees and the man is kneeling, it is the Holy Table. […]

Ralph Waldo Emerson “Eros”

The sense of the world is short,—
Long and various the report,—
To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it;
And, how oft soe’er they’ve turned it,
Not to be improved.

Ralph Waldo Emerson “Give All to Love”

Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good-fame,
Plans, credit and the Muse,—
Nothing refuse.

’T is a brave master;
Let it have scope:
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope:
High and more high
It dives into noon,
With wing unspent,
Untold intent:
But it is a god,
Knows its own path
And the outlets of the sky.

It was never for the mean;
It requireth courage stout.
Souls above doubt,
Valor unbending,
It will reward,—
They shall return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.

Leave all for love;
Yet, hear me, yet,
One word more thy heart behoved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor,—
Keep thee to-day,
To-morrow, forever,
Free as an Arab
Of thy beloved.

Cling with life to the maid;
But when the surprise,
First vague shadow of surmise
Flits across her bosom young,
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free;
Nor thou detain her vesture’s hem,
Nor the palest rose she flung
From her summer diadem.

Though thou loved her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay,
Though her parting dims the day,
Stealing grace from all alive;
Heartily know,
When half-gods go,
The gods arrive.

“Ephelia” (Mary Villiers) “On a Bashful Shepherd”

1.
Young Clovis, by a lucky Chance,
His Loved Ephelia spied,
In such a place, as might advance
His Courage, and abate her Pride:
With Eyes that might have told his Suit,
Although his bashful Tongue was mute,
Upon her gazèd he,
But the Coy Nymph, though in Surprise,
Upon the Ground fixing her Eyes,
The Language would not see.

2.
With gentle Grasps he wooed her Hand
And sighed in seeming Pain,
But this she would not understand,
His Signs were all in vain:
Then change of Blushes next he tried,
And gave his Hand freedom to slide
Upon her panting Breast;
Finding she did not this control,
Unto her Lips he gently stole,
And bid her guess the rest.

3.
She blushed, and turned her Head aside,
And so much Anger feigned,
That the poor Shepherd almost Died,
And she no Breath retained:
Her killing Frown so chilled his Blood,
He like a senseless Statue stood,
Nor further durst he Woe(1),
And though his Blessing was so near,
Checked by his Modesty and Fear,
He faintly let it go.

Louise Erdrich “The Woods”

[…] Light bleeds from the clearing. Roots rise.
Fluted molds burn blue in the falling light,
and you also know
the loneliness that you taught me with your body. […]

“Ern Malley” (James McAuley and Harold Stewart) “Perspective Lovesong”

It was a night when the planets
Were wreathed in dying garlands.
It seemed we had substituted
The abattoirs for the guillotine.
I shall not forget how you invented
Then, the conventions of faithfulness.

It seemed that we were submerged
Under a reef of coral to tantalize
The wise-grinning shark. The waters flashed
With Blue Angels and Moorish Idols.
And if I mistook your dark hair for weed
Was it not floating upon my tides?

I have remembered the chiaroscuro
Of your naked breasts and loins.
For you were wholly an admonition
That said: “From bright to dark
Is a brief longing. To hasten is now
To delay.” But I could not obey.

Princess, you lived in Princess St.,
Where the urchins pick their nose in the sun
With the left hand. You thought
That paying the price would give you admission
To the sad autumn of my Valhalla.
But I, too, invented faithfulness

Faiz Ahmed Faiz “Any Lover to Any Beloved” Translation by Hamid Rahim Sheikh

Down the memory lanes, on which
you’ve strolled since ages past
They will end if you walk farther a step or two
Where exits the turn towards the wilderness of forgetfulness
beyond which, there isn’t any Me, nor any You
My eyes hold their breath, for any moment you
may turn back, move ahead, or at least turn to look back

Although my sight knows that the wish is just a farce
For if ever it were to run across your eyes again
right there will spring forth another pathway
Like always, where ever we run into, there will begin
another journey of your lock’s shadow, your embrace’s tremor

The other wish is also in error, for my heart knows
There is no turn here, no wilderness, no mountain-range
beyond whose horizon, my perpetual sun-of-your-Love can set
May you continue walking these pathways, its better this way
If you don’t even turn to look back, it is okay

Ted Fetter, Vernon Duke, & John Latouche “Taking a Chance on Love”

Thank you

Here I go again, here I go again
Here I go again, here I go again

Taking a chance, taking a chance
Here I go again
I hear those trumpets blow again
All aglow again
Taking a chance on love

Here I slide again
About to take that ride again
Starry eyed again
Taking a chance on love
I thought that cards were a frame-up
I never would try
But Now I’m taking the game up
And the ace of hearts is high

Things are mending now
I see a rainbow blending now
We’ll have a happy ending now
Taking a chance on love

Oh, oh
Ah-ah, oh-oh, baby groove again
Taking a chance on love

I’m gonna give my all again
Taking a chance on love

I thought that cards were a frame-up
I never would try
But Now I’m taking the game up
And the ace of hearts is ha-ha-ha-ha-high

I’m gonna give my all again
Taking a chance on love
Here I go again, here I go again
Here I go again, here I go again
Taking a chance, taking a chance
Taking a chance
On love

“Michael Field” (Katharine Harris Bradley and Edith Emma Cooper) “Ah, Eros Doth Not Always Smite”

AH, Eros doth not always smite
With cruel, shining dart,
Whose bitter point with sudden might

Rends the unhappy heart —
Not thus forever purple-stained,

And sore with steely touch,
Else were its living fountain drained

Too oft and overmuch.
O’er it sometimes the boy will deign

Sweep the shaft’s feathered end ;
And friendship rises without pain
Where the white plumes descend.

“Michael Field” (Katharine Harris Bradley and Edith Emma Cooper) “As two fair vessels side by side”

AS two fair vessels side by side,
No bond had tied
Our floating peace ;
We thought that it would never cease,
But like swan-creatures we should always glide :
And this is love
We sighed.

As two grim vessels side by side,

• Through wind and tide
  War grappled us,
  With bond as strong as death, and thus
  We drove on mortally allied :
  And this is hate
  We cried.

“Michael Field” (Katharine Harris Bradley and Edith Emma Cooper) “Constancy”

I love her with the seasons, with the winds,
As the stars worship, as anemones
Shudder in secret for the sun, as bees
Buzz round an open flower: in all kinds
My love is perfect, and in each she finds
Herself the goal: then why, intent to teaze
And rob her delicate spirit of its ease,
Hastes she to range me with inconstant minds?
If she should die, if I were left at large
On earth without her-I, on earth, the same
Quick mortal with a thousand cries, her spell
She fears would break. And I confront the charge
As sorrowing, and as careless of my fame
As Christ intact before the infidel.

“Michael Field” (Katharine Harris Bradley and Edith Emma Cooper) “Lovers”

Lovers, fresh plighting lovers in our age
Lovers in Christ – so tender at the heart
The pull about the strings as they engage –
One thing is plain: – that we can never part.
O Child, thou hauntest me in every room;
Not for an instant can we separate;
And thou or I, if absent in a tomb
Must keep unqualified our soul’s debate.
Death came to me but just twelve months ago
Threatening thy life; I counted thee as dead –
Christ by the bier took pity of my woe
And lifted thee and on my bosom spread;
And did not then retire and leave us twain:
Together for a little while we stood
And looked on Him, and chronicled His pain,
The wounds for us that started in their blood –
We, with one care, our common days shall spend,
As on that noble sorrow we attend.

“Michael Field” (Katharine Harris Bradley and Edith Emma Cooper) “A Palimpsest”

… The rest
Of our life must be a palimpsest—
The old writing written there the best.

In the parchment hoary
Lies a golden story,
As ‘mid secret feather of a dove,
As ‘mid moonbeams shifted through a cloud:

Let us write it over,
O my lover,
For the far Time to discover,
As ‘mid secret feathers of a dove,
As ‘mid moonbeams shifted through a cloud!

“Michael Field” (Katharine Harris Bradley and Edith Emma Cooper) “Unbosoming”

The love that breeds
In my heart for thee!
As the iris is full, brimful of seeds,
And all that it flowered for among the reeds
Is packed in a thousand vermilion-beads
That push, and riot, and squeeze, and clip,
Till they burst the sides of the silver scrip,
And at last we see
What the bloom, with its tremulous, bowery fold
Of zephyr-petal at heart did hold:
So my breast is rent
With the burthen and strain of its great content;
For the summer of fragrance and sighs is dead,
The harvest-secret is burning red,
And I would give thee, after my kind,
The final issues of heart and mind.

Dorothy Fields “Don’t Blame Me”

Ever since the lucky night I found you
I’ve hung around you just like a fool
Falling head and heels in love like a kid out of school.

My poor heart is in an awful state now
But it’s too late now to call a halt

So if I become a nuisance it’s all your fault!

Don’t blame me for falling in love with you
I’m under your spell but how can I help it!
Don’t’ blame me!

Can’t you see when you do the things you do!
If I can’t conceal the thrill that I’m feeling,
Don’t blame; me.

I can’t help it if that doggoned moon above
Makes me need someone like you to love!

Blame your kiss as sweet as a kiss can be
And blame all your charms that melt in my arms
But don’t blame me.

I like every single thing about you
Without a doubt you are like a dream
In my mind I find a picture of us as a team

Ever since the hour of our meeting
I’ve been repeating a silly phrase
Hoping that you’ll understand me one of these days.

Don’t blame me for falling in love with you
I’m under your spell but how can I help it!
Don’t’ blame me!

Can’t you see when you do the things you do!
If I can’t conceal the thrill that I’m feeling,
Don’t blame; me.

Ican’t help it if that doggoned moon above
Makes me need someone like you to love!

Blame your kiss as sweet as a kiss can be
And blame all your charms that melt in my arms
But don’t blame me.

Dorothy Fields “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love”

I can’t give you anything but love, baby
That’s the only thing I’ve plenty of, baby
Dream a while, scheme a while
You’re sure to find
Happiness and I guess
All those things you’ve always pined for

Now, gee I love to see you looking’ swell, baby
Diamond bracelets Woolworth doesn’t sell, baby
Till that lucky day, you know darn well, baby
I can’t give you anything but love

Gee, I love to see you looking’ swell, baby.
Look like you just came up out of the wishing well, baby.
Dream awhile, scheme awhile and you’re sure happiness and
ALL those things you been looking’ for baby.
Gee, I love to see you looking’ swell, baby !!
Diamond rings, bracelets, gold watches ‘n’ everything, baby.
Until that lucky day, honey, you know good ‘n’ doggone well, honey,
I can’t give you a DADGUM thing but love.

Now, I can’t give you anything but love, baby
That’s the only thing I’ve plenty of, baby
Dream a while, scheme a while
You’re sure to find
Happiness and I guess
All those things you’ve always pined for
Now, gee I love to see you looking’ swell, baby
Diamond bracelets Woolworth doesn’t sell, baby
Till that lucky day, you know darn well, baby
I can’t give you anything but love

Dorothy Fields “Remind Me”

Turn off that charm
I’m through with love for awhile
I’m through and yet, you have a fabulous smile
So if I forget

Remind me not to find you so attractive
Remind me that the world is full of men
When I start to miss you, to touch your hand, to kiss you
Remind me to count to ten

I had a feeling when I met you
You’d drive me crazy if I let you
But all my efforts to forget you
Remind me I’m in love again

Not to mention that I love you

To be sorry that we met
Although I adore you, remind me to ignore you
You’re one thing I will regret
So when your charm begins to blind me
I’ll simply tie my hands behind me
Don’t let me kiss you, please remind me
Unless, my darling, you forget

Dorothy Fields “There Must Be Somethin’ Better Than Love” (lyrics)

VERSE
Give it up!
Give it up!
Too much man,
Too much grief
No more man,
No more grief,
To be brief,
I got a firm belief.

REFRAIN 1
There must be somethin’ better than love,
There must be somethin’ better in view,
But if there’s somethin’ better than love,
Who wants it? Do you?
There jes’ must be some practical plan
That don’t require de service of man.
Suppose they find that practical plan-
Who wants it? Neither do I!
‘A course there’s de solitary life,
Sittin’ with yo knittin’ an’yo’ cat.
O ho! Yo’ knittin’ an’ yo’cat!
You know what you can do with that!
What makes yo’ two eyes wetter than love?
What makes you feel “upsetter”
than love?
But if there’s somethin’ better than love,
Who’s got it?
Who wants it?
Do you?

REFRAIN 2
There must be somethin’ better than love,
There must be somethin’ better to do,
But if there’s somethin’ better to do,
Who’d do it? Would you?
There must be some respectable vice,
A small sin at a moderate price.
Suppose there’s one respectable vice-
Who’d practice it? Don’t look at me!
‘A course there’s de solitary man
Sleepin’ in his solitary bed. O ho! His solitary bed!
You know that gentleman is dead!
There’s nothin’ more “goat-getter”
than love,
There’s nothin’ “triple-threater”
than love,
But if there’s somethin’ better than love
An’ you like it! Ho! Ho!
You can keep it! Ho! Ho!
I don’t want it! Ho! Ho!
I can’t use it! No! No!
There’s nothin’ better than love.

Figânî Ramazan Çelebi “Your kiss does not satisfy the heart”

Your kiss does not satisfy the heart
it is crazy with desire for our union
Friend, please forgive me, but this world
is a world of greed

Your body rises like the dead on Judgement Day,
you are my promise of Paradise
Alas! You will turn me to dust before
I have truly died […]

Doris Fisher & Allan Roberts “That Old Devil Called Love”

It’s that old devil called love again
Gets behind me and keeps giving me that shove again
Putting rain in my eyes, tears in my dreams
And rocks in my heart

It’s that sly old sun of a gun again
He keeps telling me that I’m the lucky one again
But I still have that rain still have those tears
And those rocks in my heart

Suppose I didn’t stay, ran away, wouldn’t play
The devil, what a potion he would brew?

He’d follow me around, build me up, tear me down
Till I’d be so bewildered, I wouldn’t know what to do

Might as well give up that fight again
I know darn well he’ll convince me, that he’s right again
When he sings that sorry song I’m just gonna tag along
With that old devil called love

He’d follow me around, build me up, tear me down
Till I’d be so bewildered, I wouldn’t know what to do

With that old devil called love
With that old devil called love

Gaius Valerius Flaccus “Liber Septimus” “Book 7”

Te quoque Thessalico iam serus ab hospite vesper dividit et iam te tua gaudia, virgo, relinquunt noxque ruit soli veniens non mitis amanti. ergo ubi cunctatis extremo in limine plantis contigit aegra toros et mens incensa tenebris, vertere tunc varios per longa insomnia questus nec pereat quo scire malo tandemque fateri ausa sibi ~paulum~ medio sic fata dolore est: ‘nunc ego quo casu vel quo sic per<vi>gil usque ipsa volens errore trahor? non haec mihi certe nox erat ante tuos, iuvenis fortissime, vultus, quos ego cur iterum demens iterumque recordor tam magno discreta mari? quid in hospite solo mens mihi? cognati potius iam vellera Phrixi accipiat, quae sola petit quaeque una laborum causa viro. nam quando domos has ille reviset aut meus Aesonias quando pater ibit ad urbes? felices mediis qui se dare fluctibus ausi nec tantas timuere vias talemque secuti huc qui deinde virum; sed, sit quoque talis, abito.’ tum iactata toro <to>tumque experta cubile ecce videt tenui candescere limen Eoo. nec minus insomnem lux orta refecit amantem quam cum languentes <levis> erigit imber aristas grataque iam fessis descendunt flamina remis. […]

Now doth late evening sunder thee, maiden, from the Thessalian stranger, and now do thy joys leave thee, while night comes on apace with balm for all save for the lover alone. So when, heart-sick, with feet that hesitated on the threshold’s verge, she gained her chamber and in the darkness her imaginings took fire, long time she lay unsleeping, brooding on various plaints and ignorant of what plague was vexing her; at last at the height of her distress she dares avow the cause, and thus she speaks: “What mishap, what wilful deluding error holds me that so I lie ever sleepless? Not such for sure were my nights ere I had seen thy countenance, gallant youth. What madness makes me recall it again and yet again, though oceans lie between us? Why are my thoughts upon the stranger only? Nay, let him rather even now receive his kinsman Phrixus’ fleece, his only quest and sole cause of all his toil. For when will he see this abode again? or when will my father visit Haemonia’s cities? Happy they who braved the intervening seas, nor feared so long a voyage but straightway followed so valiant a hero to this land: for all that, valiant though he be, let him begone.” […]

Thomas Flatman “An Appeal to Cats in the Business of Love”

Ye Cats that at midnight spit love at each other,
Who best feel the pangs of a passionate Lover,
I appeal to your scratches, and your tattered furr,
If the business of love be no more than to purr. […]

Jean Follain “L’empailleur d’oiseaux” “A Taxidermist”

L’empailleur s’était assis devant les gorges roses les ailes vertes ou mauves de ses passereaux rêvant à son amante au corps si différent parfois si près aussi de celui des oiseaux qu’il lui paraissait très étrange dans ses courbes et ses volumes dans ses couleurs et ses parures et dans ses ombres.

A taxidermist is sitting before the russet breasts green and purple wings of his song-birds dreaming about his lover with a body so different yet so close sometimes to the body of the birds that it seemed to him very strange in its curves and its volumes in its colors and its finery and its shades.

George Forrest & Robert Wright “And This Is My Beloved”

As performed by ANN BLYTH, HOWARD KEEL and VIC DAMONE in the 1955 MGM film “Kismet”:

HK: Were his eyes grey, brown?

AB: His eyes were …..
Oh, Father, we talked only for a few moments
He touched my hand …..

HK: You’d say his eyes were

AB: Sometime bright

HK: But only sometime

AB: Often dark

HK: Well, that is plain

AB: Plain words can’t tell the thrill

HK: Then tell it how you will

BLYTH:
Dawn’s promising skies
Petals on a pool drifting
Imagine these in one pair of eyes
And this is my beloved
Strange spice from the south
Honey through the comb sifting
Imagine these on one eager mouth
And this is my beloved

DAMONE:
And when she speaks
And when she talks to me
Music! Mystery!
And when she moves
And when she walks with me
Paradise comes suddenly near

BLYTH:
All that can stir, all that can stun
All that’s for the heart’s lifting
Imagine these in one perfect one
And this is my beloved

BOTH: And this is my beloved

George Forrest, Edvard Grieg, Robert C. Wright “Strange Music”

Soft breeze, whispering trees
The summer winds are sighing
The leaves are lullabying
Violins are all around you
I can hear the chords resound
Of sounding brass
That seems to say I’ve found
I’ve found you, I’ve found you.

Strange music in my ears
Only now as you spoke, did it start.
Strange music of the sphere
Could its lovely hum be coming from my heart?
You appear and I hear song sublime
Song that I’m incapable of.
So Dear, let me hold you near
While we treasure ev’ry measure,
So that time can never change
The strange, new music of love.

(Musical Break)

So Dear, let me hold you near
While we treasure ev’ry measure,
So that time can never change
The strange, new music of love.

William Fowler “Ship-Broken Men Whom Stormy Seas Sore Toss”

Ship-broken men whom stormy seas sore toss
Protests with oaths not to adventure more;
Bot all their perils, promises, and loss
They quite forget when they come to the shore:
Even so, fair dame, whiles sadly I deplore
The shipwreck of my wits procured by you,
Your looks rekindleth love as of before,
And dois revive which I did disavow;
So all my former vows I disallow,
And buries in oblivion’s grave, but groans;
Yes, I forgive, hereafter, even as now
My fears, my tears, my cares, my sobs, and moans,
In hope if anes I be to shipwreck driven,
Ye will me thole to anchor in your heaven.

Robert Francis “Swimmer”

I.
Observer how he negotiates his way
With trust and the least violence, making
The stranger friend, the enemy ally.
The depth that could destroy him gently supports him.
With water he defends himself from water.
Danger he leans on, rests in. The drowning sea
Is all he has between himself and drowning.

II.
What lover ever lay more mutually
With his beloved, his always-reaching arms
Stroking in smooth and powerful caresses?
Some drown in love as dark water, and some
By love are strongly held as the green sea
Now holds the swimmer. Indolently he turns
To float – the swimmer floats, the lover sleeps.

Douglas Furber & Noel Gay “Me and My Girl”

Life’s an empty thing
Life can be so awful lonesome
If your always on your ownsome
Life’s an empty thing
Life’s a happy thing

Everything was topsy-turvy
Life seemed all wrong
But it came all right as soon as
You came along

Life’s a different thing
When you’ve found your one and only
Then you feel no longer lonely

Me and my girl,
Meant for each other,
Sent for each other
And liking it so!
Me and my girl,
No use pretending,
We knew the ending
Some ages ago!

Some little church
With a big steeple,
Just a few people
That both of us know.
And we’ll have love, laughter,
Be happy ever after,
Me and my girl.

Patrick Galvin “With My Little Red Knife”

With my little red knife
I met my love
With my little red knife
I courted
And she stole me to her deep down bed
Her hair spread out a burning red
But never a single word was said
About my little red knife.

With my little red knife
I held her down
With my little red knife
I kissed her
And there in the deep of her two blue eyes
I kissed and kissed a thousand lies
And opened wide her golden thighs
To please my little red knife.

With my little red knife
I made her weep
With my little red knife
I loved her
And the wine was heavy in her mouth
The morning air stood up to shout
But there wasn’t a living soul about
To see my little red knife.

With my little red knife
I raised her up
With my little red knife
I ripped her
And there in the gloom and rolling night
I cut her throat by candlelight
And hurried home to my waiting wife
Who damned my little red knife.

Sunil Gangopadhyay “Blindfold” tr. Nandini Gupta

Arundhati, my all,
open your mouth, push your tongue
down my throat, let our kisses resound
through the universe, through hell, Arundhati,
become a light, make light, light,
Arundhati, light–
Not the flashlight of eyes, but a light in the heart,
Arundhati, won’t you be the lighthouse of my life? […]

Federico García Lorca “Ay voz secreta del amor oscuro”

Ay voz secreta del amor oscuro ¡ay balido sin lanas! ¡ay herida! ¡ay aguja de hiel, camelia hundida! ¡ay corriente sin mar, ciudad sin muro! ¡Ay noche inmensa de perfil seguro, montaña celestial de angustia erguida! ¡ay perro en corazón, voz perseguida! ¡silencio sin confín, lirio maduro! Huye de mí, caliente voz de hielo, no me quieras perder en la maleza donde sin fruto gimen carne y cielo. Deja el duro marfil de mi cabeza, apiádate de mí, ¡rompe mi duelo! ¡que soy amor, que soy naturaleza!

Oh secret voice of dark love Oh bleat without wool! Wounded! Oh gall needle, sunken camellia! Oh stream without sea, city without wall! Oh immense night with a sure profile, Heavenly mountain of anguish raised! Oh dog in heart, persecuted voice! Boundless silence, ripe lily! Run away from me, hot voice of ice, don’t want to lose me in the weeds where flesh and heaven groan without fruit. Leave the hard ivory of my head have mercy on me, break my duel! That I am love, that I am nature!

Federico García Lorca “El poeta dice la verdad”

Quiero llorar mi pena y te lo digo para que tú me quieras y me llores en un anochecer de ruiseñores con un puñal, con besos y contigo. Quiero matar al único testigo para el asesinato de mis flores y convertir mi llanto y mis sudores en eterno montón de duro trigo. Que no se acabe nunca la madeja del te quiero me quieres, siempre ardida con decrépito sol y luna vieja. Que lo que no me des y no te pida será para la muerte, que no deja ni sombra por la carne estremecida.

I want to cry my grief and I tell you so that you love me and cry for me in a nightfall of nightingales with a dagger, with kisses and with you. I want to kill the only witness for the murder of my flowers and turn my tears and my sweats in an eternal heap of hard wheat. May the skein never end I love you, you love me, always on fire with decrepit sun and old moon. What you don’t give me and I don’t ask you It will be for death, which does not leave nor shadow for the shuddering flesh.

Jean Genet “The Man Condemned to Death” (extract)

On my neck without armor and without hatred, my neck
That my hand lighter and more serious than a widow
Touch under my collar, without your heart moving,
Let your teeth set their wolf smile.
O come my beautiful sun, o come, my Spanish night,
Happens in my eyes that will be dead tomorrow.
Come on, open my door, bring me your hand,
Take me far from here to fight our campaign.

The sky can wake up, the stars can bloom,
Neither the flowers sigh, and meadows the black grass
Welcome the dew where the morning will drink,
The bell tower can ring: I alone will die.

O come my pink sky, O my blonde basket!
Visit in his night your condmané to death.
Rip out the flesh, kill, climb, bite,
But come! Put your cheek against my round head.

We had not finished talking to each other about love.
We had not finished smoking our gypsies.
One may wonder why the Courts condemn
An assassin so handsome that he makes the day pale.

Don George, Harry James, Duke Ellington, & Johnny Hodges “I’m Beginning to See the Light”

I never cared much for moonlit skies
I never wink back at fireflies
But now that the stars are in your eyes
I’m beginning to see the light

I never went in for afterglow
Or candlelight on the mistletoe
But now when you turn the lamp down low
I’m beginning to see the light

Used to ramble through the park
Shadowboxing in the dark
Then you came and caused a spark
That’s a four-alarm fire now

I never made love by lantern-shine
I never saw rainbows in my wine
But now that your lips are burning mine
I’m beginning to see the light

George and Ira Gershwin “But Not for Me”

Old Man Sunshine, listen, you
Never tell me dreams come true
Just try it, and I’ll start a riot
Beatrice Fairfax, don’t you dare
Ever tell me he will care
I’m certain, It’s the final curtain
I never want to hear from any cheerful Pollyannas
Who tell you fate supplies a mate, it’s all bananas
They’re writing songs of love, but not for me
A lucky star’s above, but not for me
With love to lead the way
I found more skies of gray
Than any Russian play could guarantee
I was a fool to fall, and get that way
Hi-ho, alas, and also lack-a-day
Although I can’t dismiss
The memory of his kiss
I guess he’s not for me
Although I can’t dismiss
The memory of his kiss
I guess he’s not for me

George and Ira Gershwin “Do, Do, Do”

I remember the bliss
Of that wonderful kiss.
I knew that a boy
Could never have more joy
From any little miss.

I remember it quite,
‘Twas a wonderful night.

Oh, how I’d adore it
If you would encore it.
0h

Do, do, do
What you’ve done, done, done
Before, Baby.
Do, do, do
What I do, do, do
Adore, Baby.
Let’s try again,
Sigh again,
Fly again to heaven.
Baby, see
It’s A, B, C,
I love you and you love me.
I know, know, know
What a beau, beau, beau
Should do, Baby;

So don’t, don’t, don’t
Say it won’t, won’t, won’t

Come true, baby,
My heart begins to hum,

So do, do, do
What you’ve done, done, done
Before.

Sweets we’ve tasted before
Cannot stand an encore.
You know that a miss
Who always gives a kiss
Would soon become a bore.

I can’t see that at all,
True love never should pall.

I was only teasing;
What you did was pleasing.
Oh,

Do, do, do
What you’ve done, done, done
Before, Baby.
Do, do, do
What I do, do, do
Adore, baby.
Let’s try again,
Sigh again,
Fly again to heaven.
Baby, see
It’s ABC
I love you and you love me.

You dear, dear, dear
Little dear, dear, dear
Come here, snappy!
And see, see, see
Little me, me, me
Make you happy.

My heart begins to sigh

So do, do, do
What you’ve done, done, done
Before.

Ira Gershwin, Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg “Fun to Be Fooled”

You say you love me;
I know from the past;
You mean to love me;
But these things don’t last.
Fools rush in to begin new love affairs, but tonight, tonight, my dear, who cares?
Fun to be fooled, fun to pretend,
Fun to believe love is unending.
Tonight I was done, still, it is fun being fooled again.
Nice when you can tell all that you feel;
Nice to be told this is the real thing;
Fun to be kissed, fun to exist, to be fooled again.
It’s that Old Debbil Moon having his fling once more;
Selling me spring once more;
I’m afraid love is king once more!
Fun to be fooled, fun to pretend this little dream won’t end..

George and Ira Gershwin “I Got Rhythm”

(Verse)
Days can be sunny
With never a sigh
Don’t need what money
Can buy

Birds in the trees sing
Their dayful of song
Why shouldn’t we sing
Along?

I’m chipper all the day
Happy with my lot
How do I get that way?
Look at what I got

(Chorus)
I got rhythm
I got music
I got my man
Who could ask for anything more?

I got daisies
In green pastures
I got my man
Who could ask for anything more?
Old Man Trouble
I don’t mind him
You won’t find him
‘Round my door

I got starlight
I got sweet dreams
I got my man
Who could ask for anything more?
Who could ask for anything more?

George and Ira Gershwin “Isn’t It a Pity”

Why did I wander
Here and there and yonder,
Wasting precious time
For no reason or rhyme?
Isn’t it a pity!
Isn’t it a crime!
My journey is ended,
Everything is splendid;
Meeting you today
Has given me a wonderful idea
Here I stay!

It’s a funny thing;
I look at you,
I get a thrill I never knew,
Isn’t it a pity we never met before!

Here we are at last,
It’s like a dream,
The two of us, a perfect team,
Isn’t it a pity we never met before!

Imagine all the lonely years we’ve wasted,
You with the neighbours,
I at silly labours!
What joys untasted,
You readin Heine,
Me somewhere in China!

Let’s forget the past, let’s both agree
That I’m for you and you’re for me,
And it’s such a pity we never, never met before!

Imagine all the lonely years we’ve wasted,
Fishing for salmon,
Losing at backgammon!
What joys untasted,
My nights were sour,
Spent with Schopenhauer!

Let’s forget the past, let’s both agree
That I’m for you and you’re for me,
And it’s such a pity we never, never met before!

Ira Gershwin & Jerome Kern “Long Ago (And Far Away)”

Long ago and far away, I dreamed a dream one day
And now that dream is here beside me
Long the skies were overcast but now the clouds have passed
You’re here at last
Chills run up and down my spine, Aladdin’s lamp is mine
The dream I dreamed was not denied me
Just one look and then I knew
That all I longed for long ago was you
Chills run up and down my spine, Aladdin’s lamp is mine
The dream I dreamed was not denied me
Just one look and then I knew
That all I longed for long ago was you

George and Ira Gershwin “Love Is Here to Stay”

It’s very clear, our love is here to stay
Not for a year but ever and a day
The radio and the telephone and the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies and in time may go

But, oh, my dear, our love is here to stay
Together we’re goin’ a long, long way
In time the Rockies may crumble
Gibraltar may tumble
They’re only made of clay
But our love is here to stay

George and Ira Gershwin “Love Is Sweeping the Country”

Why are people gay
All the night and day
Feeling as they never felt before
What is the thing
That makes them sing?

Rich man, poor man, thief
Doctor, lawyer, chief
Feel a feeling that they can`t ignore

It plays a part in every heart
And every heart is shouting, “Encore”

Love is sweeping the country,
Waves are hugging the shore,
All the sexes
From Maine to Texas
Have never known such love before!

See them billing and cooing
Like the birdies above
Each girl and boy alike
Sharing joy alike
Feels that passion` ll
Soon be national!

Love is sweeping the country
There never was so much love

(bridge)
See them billing and cooing
Like the birdies above
Each girl and boy alike
Sharing joy alike
Feels that passion` ll
Soon be national!

Love is sweeping the country
There never was so much love

George and Ira Gershwin “The Man I Love”

When the mellow moon begins to beam,
Every night I dream a little dream,
And of course Prince Charming is the theme,
The he for me.
Although I realize as well as you
It is seldom that a dream comes true,
To me it’s clear
That he’ll appear.

Some day he’ll come along,
The man I love
And he’ll be big and strong,
The man I love
And when he comes my way
I’ll do my best to make him stay.

He’ll look at me and smile
I’ll understand,
And in a little while,
He’ll take my hand,
And though it seems absurd,
I know we both won’t say a word

Maybe I shall meet him Sunday
Maybe Monday, maybe not,
Still I’m sure to meet him one day
Maybe Tuesday will be my good news day

He’ll build a little home
Just meant for two,
From which I’ll never roam,
Who would, would you?
And so all else above
I’m waiting for the man I love.

George and Ira Gershwin “Nice Work If You Can Get It”

Holding hands at midnight
‘Neath a starry sky
Nice work if you can get it
And you can get it if you try

Strolling with that one boy
Sighing sigh after sigh
It’s nice work if you can get it
And you can get it if you try

Just imagine someone
Waiting at the cottage door
Where two hearts become one
Who could ask for anything more?

Loving one who loves you
And then taking that vow
It’s nice work if you can get it
And if you get it, won’t you tell me how?”

Holding hands at midnight
‘Neath a starry sky
Nice work if you can get it
And you can get it if you try

Strolling with that one boy
Sighing sigh after sigh
It’s nice work if you can get it
And you can get it if you try

[Bridge]

Just imagine someone
Waiting at the cottage door
Where two hearts become one
Who could ask for anything more?

Loving one who loves you
And then taking that vow
Nice work if you can get it
And if you get it, won’t you tell me how?”

Just imagine someone
Waiting at the cottage door
Where two hearts become one
Who could ask for anything more?

Loving one who loves you
And then taking that vow
It’s nice work if you can get it
And if you get it, won’t you tell me how?”

George and Ira Gershwin “Of Thee I Sing”

From the island of Manhattan to the coast of gold
From north to south, from east to west
You are the love, I love the best
You`re the dreamboat in the sweetest story ever told

A dream I sought, both night and day
For years through all, the U.S.A.
The star I hitched my wagon to
Is very obviously you

Of thee I sing, baby
Summer, autumn, winter, spring, baby.
You`re my silver lining,
You`re my sky of blue
There`s a lovelight shining
Just because of you.

Of thee I sing, baby,
You have got that certain thing, baby
Shining star and inspiration
Worthy of a mighty nation,
Of thee I sing.

Of thee I sing, baby,
You have got that certain thing, baby
Shining star and inspiration
Worthy of a mighty nation,
Of thee I sing.

George & Ira Gershwin “‘S Wonderful”

Don’t mind telling you in my humble fashion
That you thrill me through with a tender passion
When you said you care, imagine my emotion
I swore then and there, permanent devotion

You made all other men seem blah
Just you alone filled me with, ahh
‘S wonderful, ‘s marvelous
You should care for me

‘S awful nice, ‘s paradise
‘S what I love to see
You’ve made my life so glamorous
You can’t blame me for feeling amorous

Oh, ‘s wonderful, ‘s marvelous
That you should care for me!
‘S magnificque, ‘s what I seek
You should care for me

‘S elegant, ‘s what I want
‘S what I love to see
My dear, it’s four-leaved-clover time
From now on my heart’s working overtime

‘S exceptional, ‘s no bagatelle
That you should care for
That you should care for
That you should care for me

George & Ira Gershwin “Someone to Watch over Me”

There’s a saying old
Says that love is blind
Still we’re often told
Seek and ye shall find
So I’m going to seek
A certain lad
I’ve had in mind

Looking everywhere
Haven’t found him yet
He’s the big affair
I cannot forget
Only man I ever think
Of with regret

I’d like
To add his initial
To my monogram
Tell me
Where is the shepherd
For this lost lamb?

There’s a somebody
I’m longin’ to see
I hope that he turns
Out to be
Someone to watch over me

I’m a little lamb
Who’s lost in the wood
I know I could
Always be good
To one
Who’ll watch over me

Although he may
Not be the man some
Girls think
Of as handsome
To my heart
He carries the key

Won’t you tell him please
To put on some speed
Follow my lead
Oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me

Won’t you tell him please
To put on some speed
Follow my lead
Oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me
Someone to watch over me

George & Ira Gershwin “Who Cares?”

Who cares if the sky cares
To fall in the sea?
Who cares what banks fail in Yonkers,
Long as you’ve got a kiss that conquers?

Why should I care?
Life is one long jubilee,
So long as I care for you
And you care for me!

Keith Gilyard “Portraits of a Moment”

my hands ooze over you
as the warm slow bottle of lotion
your skin aches for

we enrich
the language of tender moanings
and stretch the kiss
like Bird stretched music […]

Allen Ginsberg “Malest Cornifici Tuo Catullo”

I’m happy, Kerouac, your madman’s Allen’s
finally made it: discovered a new young cat,
and my imagination of an eternal boy
walks on the streets of San Francisco,
handsome, and meets me in cafeterias
and loves me, Ah don’t think I’m sickening.
You’re angry at me. For all my lovers?
It’s hard to eat shit, without having visions;
when they have eyes for me it’s like Heaven.
SF 1955
Malest Cornifici Tuo Catullo : Latin for
Things are bad for your Catullus, Cornificus

Louise Glück “The Balcony”

It was a night like this, at the end of summer.
We had rented, I remember, a room with a balcony.
How many days and nights? Five, perhaps–no more.
Even when we weren’t touching we were making love.
We stood on our little balcony in the summer night.
And off somewhere, the sounds of human life.
We were the soon to be anointed monarchs,
well disposed to our subjects. Just beneath us,
sounds of a radio playing, an aria we didn’t in those years know.
Someone dying of love. Someone from whom time had taken
the only happiness, who was alone now,
impoverished, without beauty.
The rapturous notes of an unendurable grief, of isolation and terror,
the nearly impossible to sustain slow phrases of the ascending figures–
they drifted out over the dark water
like an ecstasy.
Such a small mistake. And many years later,
the only thing left of that night, of the hours in that room.

Louise Glück “The Garden”

I couldn’t do it again,
I can hardly bear to look at it-

in the garden, in light rain
the young couple planting
a row of peas, as though
no one has ever done this before,
the great difficulties have never as yet
been faced and solved-

They cannot see themselves,
in fresh dirt, starting up
without perspective,
the hills behind them pale green, clouded with flowers-

She wants to stop;
he wants to get to the end,
to stay with the thing-

Look at her, touching his cheek
to make a truce, her fingers
cool with spring rain;
in thin grass, bursts of purple crocus-

even here, even at the beginning of love,
her hand leaving his face makes
an image of departure

and they think
they are free to overlook
this sadness.

Louise Glück “Happiness”

A man and a woman lie on a white bed.
It is morning. I think
Soon they will waken.
On the bedside table is a vase
of lilies; sunlight
pools in their throats.
I watch him turn to her
as though to speak her name
but silently, deep in her mouth–
At the window ledge,
once, twice,
a bird calls.
And then she stirs; her body
fills with his breath.

I open my eyes; you are watching me.
Almost over this room
the sun is gliding.
Look at your face, you say,
holding your own close to me
to make a mirror.
How calm you are. And the burning wheel
passes gently over us.

Louise Glück “The Mirror”

Watching you in the mirror I wonder
what it is like to be so beautiful
and why you do not love
but cut yourself, shaving
like a bind man. I think you let me stare
so you can turn against yourself
with greater violence,
needing to show me how you scrape the flesh away
scornfully and without hesitation
until I see you correctly,
as a man bleeding, not
the reflection I desire.

Sidney Godolphin “Faire Friend, ’tis true, your beauties move”

Faire Friend, ’tis true, your beauties move
My heart to a respect:
Too little to bee paid with love,
Too great for your neglect.

I neither love, nor yet am free,
For though the flame I find
Be not intense in the degree
‘Tis of the purest kind.

It little wants of love, but paine,
Your beautie takes my sense,
And lest you should that price disdaine,
My thoughts, too feele the influence.

‘Tis not a passions first accesse
Readie to multiply,
But like Loves calmest State it is
Possest with victorie.

It is like Love to Truth reduc’d,
All the false values gone,
Which were created, and induc’d
By fond imagination.

‘Tis either Fancie, or ’tis Fate,
To love you more than I;
I love you at your beauties rate,
Lesse were an Injurie.

Like unstamp’d Gold, I weigh each grace,
So that you may collect
Th’intrinsique value of your face
Safely from my respect.

And this respect would merit love,
Were not so faire a sight
Payment enough; for, who dare move
Reward for his delight?

Sidney Godolphin “Thou Joy of my Life”

Thou joy of my life,
First love of my youth,
Thou safest of pleasures
And fullest of truth,
Thou purest of Nymphs
And never more fair,
Breathe this way and cool me,
Thou pitying Air!
Come hither and hover
On every part,
Thou life of my sense
And joy of my heart.

E. Ray Goetz,Edgar Leslie, & George W. Meyer “For Me and My Gal”

(Verse)
[JO]
Ding, dong
Ding, dong
Do you hear the bells go
Ding, dong?
Do you know
Do you know why they’re ringing?
Do you know
Why the birds are singing
Well, you’re gonna get a big surprise
‘Cause I’m gonna put you wise

(Chorus)
[JO]
The bells are ringing
For me and my gal
The birds are singing
For me and my gal
Everybody’s been knowing
To a wedding they’re going
And for weeks they’ve been sewing
Every Susie and Sal
They’re congregating

[HARRY]
There’s the church!

[JO]
For me and my gal

[HARRY]
And there’s the steeple

[JO]
The parson’s waiting

[HARRY]
Open the door

[JO]
For me and my gal

[HARRY]
And there’s the people

[JO]
And sometime we’re gonna build a little home
For two or three or four or more
In Loveland for me and my gal

(Chorus 2)
[HARRY AND JO]
The bells are ringing
For me and my gal
The birds are singing
For me and my gal
Everybody’s been knowing
To a wedding they’re going
And for weeks they’ve been sewing
They’ve been sewing something old and something new so
Something that is blue so
They can make a trousseau
For my gal
They’re congregating
For me and my gal
Look here, why, that’s the parson waiting
For me and my gal
And sometime we’re gonna build a little home

[HARRY]
For two

[JO]
Or three

[HARRY]
Or four

[JO]
Or five

[HARRY]
Or maybe more

[HARRY AND JO]
Loveland for me and my gal

(dance break)

[HARRY]
Here comes that Loveland again

[HARRY AND JO]
In Loveland for me and my gal

Oliver Goldsmith “The Gift. To Iris, in Bow Street, Covent Garden”

SAY, cruel IRIS, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,
What annual offering shall I make,
Expressive of my duty?

My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
Say, would the angry fair one prize
The gift, who slights the giver?

A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give—and let ’em;
If gems, or gold, impart a joy,
I’ll give them—when I get ’em.

I’ll give—but not the full-blown rose,
Or rose-bud more in fashion;
Such short-liv’d offerings but disclose
A transitory passion.

I’ll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere, than civil:
I’ll give thee—Ah! too charming maid,
I’ll give thee—To the devil.

Oliver Goldsmith “When Lovely Woman Stoops to Folly”

When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can sooth her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom—is to die.

Ray Gonzalez “Beyond Having”

And, always, there is desire like
the orange and banana changing
texture on the kitchen shelf.
Their skins sink slowly into themselves.
There is the liquid of lust and thirst,
and open gloss of choice and cutting,
a lying down toward the wind,
the heaving you were warned about. […]

Irving Gordon “Be Anything (But Be Mine)”

Be a beggar, be a thief
Be my sunshine or my grief
Be anything, but darling, be mine
(Be anything, but darling, be mine)

Be a wise one, be a fool
Treat me tender or be cruel
Be anything, but darling, be mine

Climb to the top of the ladder
Be princess of all you survey
Fail and it still doesn’t matter
If you love me, everything is okay

Be the angel of my prayers
Be the devil, who cares
Be anything, but darling, be mine

(So, climb to the top of the ladder)
(Be master of all you survey)
Or fail and it still doesn’t matter
If you love me, everything is okay

Be the angel of my prayers
Be the devil, who cares
Be anything, but darling, be mine

(Be anything, but darling, be mine)
Darling, be mine

Irving Gordon “Unforgettable”

Unforgettable, that’s what you are
Unforgettable though near or far
Like a song of love that clings to me
How the thought of you does things to me
Never before has someone been more

Unforgettable in every way
And forever more, that’s how you’ll stay
That’s why, darling, it’s incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too

Unforgettable in every way
And forever more, that’s how you’ll stay
That’s why, darling, it’s incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too

Mack Gordon & Harry Revel “Head Over Heels in Love”

I sing when I’m talking
I dance when I’m walking
And oh, how lovely it feels
Just to be
To be
To be
Head over heels in love

Can’t sleep a wink,
and I
Can’t even think,
and I
Miss about half of my meals
‘Cause I fell
I fell
I fell
Head over heels in love

Every night I’m the mooniest one
The Juniest one
The looniest one

Love made me the crooniest one
Spring has sprung
Oh tra-la-la

My heart is a-flutter
I stammer and stutter
I s-s-suppose it reveals
That I am
I am
I am
High in the heavens above
Head over heels in love

Mack Gordon & Edmond Goulding “Mam’selle”

It was Montmartre, it was midnight come to think of it
It was spring, there was music, I was listening
Then in the room somewhere someone began to sing
This serenade made for remembering

A small Café, Mam’selle
Our rendezvous, Mam’selle
The violins were warm and sweet
And so were you, Mam’selle

And as the night danced by
A kiss became a sigh
Your lovely eyes seemed to sparkle just like wine does
No heart ever yearned the way that mine does for you
.
And yet I know too well
Someday you’ll say goodbye
Then violins will cry
And so will I, Mam’selle

(Orchestral Interlude)

And as the night danced by
A kiss became a sigh
Your lovely eyes seemed to sparkle just like wine does
No heart ever yearned the way that mine does for you

And yet I know too well
Someday you’ll say goodbye
Then violins will cry
And so will I, Mam’selle

Mack Gordon & Warren Harry “There Will Never Be Another You”

[Verse 1]
This is our last dance together
Tonight soon will be long ago
And in our moment of parting
This is all I want you to know

[Chorus]
There will be many other nights like this
And I’ll be standing here with someone new
There will be other songs to sing
Another fall, another spring
But there will never be another you

[Verse 2]
There will be other lips that I may kiss
But they won’t thrill me like yours used to do
Yes, I may dream a million dreams
But how can they come true
If there will never, ever be another you?

[Instrumental Break]

[Outro]
Yes, I may dream a million dreams
But how can they come true
If there will never, ever be another you?

Mack Gordon & Harry Revel “There’s a Lull in My Life”

Oh, there’s a lull in my life
It’s just a void, an empty space
When you are not in my embrace

Oh, there’s a lull in my life
The moment that you go away
There is no night, there is no day

The clock stops ticking
The world stops turning
Everything stops
But that flame in my heart
That keeps burning, burning

Oh, there’s a lull in my life
No matter how I may pretend
I know that you alone can end
The ache in my heart
The call of my arms
The lull in my life

The clock stops its ticking
The world stops its turning
Everything stops
But that flame in my heart
That keeps burning, burning

Oh, there’s a lull in my life
No matter how I may pretend
I know that you alone can end
The ache in my heart
The call of my arms
The lull in my life

Mack Gordon “You Hit the Spot”

You hit the spot,
Like a balmy breeze on a night in May;
You hit the spot,
Like a cool mint julip on a summery day!

You hit a new high in my estimation,
I had to fall,
‘Cause you’ve got so much on the ball!

Oh, you hit the spot,
Like the first embrace when the night is tied;
You hit the spot,
Like a pipe and slippers by a fireside!

Matter of factly,
Don’t know exactly,
What it is that you’ve got,
But ooh-ooh-ooh, you-ou-ou hit the spot!

You hit the spot,
Like a balmy breeze on a night in May;
You hit the spot,
Like a cool mint julip on a summery day!

You hit a new high in my estimation,
I had to fall,
‘Cause you’ve got so much on the ball!

Oh, you hit the spot,
Like the first embrace when the night is tied;
You hit the spot,
Like a pipe and slippers by a fireside!

Matter of factly,
Don’t know exactly,
What it is that you’ve got,
But ooh-ooh-ooh, you-ou-ou hit the spot!

Robert Graves “Down, Wanton, Down!”

Down, wanton, down! Have you no shame
That at the whisper of Love’s name,
Or Beauty’s, presto! up you raise
Your angry head and stand at gaze?

Poor bombard-captain, sworn to reach
The ravelin and effect a breach–
Indifferent what you storm or why,
So be that in the breach you die!

Love may be blind, but Love at least
Knows what is man and what mere beast;
Or Beauty wayward, but requires
More delicacy from her squires.

Robert Graves “Not at Home”

[…] At her well-tended orchard, heavy with bloom
(Easter fell late that year, Spring had come early),
And found the gardener, bent over cold frames.
‘Her ladyship is not at home?’
Or months, hopes to return before midsummer,
And, please, you are not to communicate.
There was something else: about the need for patience.’
The sun went in, a bleak wind shook the blossom,
Dust flew, the windows glared in a blank row….
And yet I felt, when I turned slowly away,
Her eyes boring my back, as it might be posted
Behind a curtain slit, and still in love.

Robert Graves “She Tells Her Love While Half Asleep”

She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.

Bud Green & Sammy H. Stept “That’s My Weakness Now”

Love, love, love, love,
Look what you’ve done to me!
The things I never missed
Are things I can’t resist!

Oh love, love, love, love,
Isn’t it plain to see
I just had a change of heart,
What can it be?

He’s got eyes of blue,
I never cared for eyes of blue,
But he’s got eyes of blue,
And that’s my weakness now!

He’s got curly hair,
I never cared for curly hair,
But he’s got curly hair,
And that’s my weakness now!

Oh my, oh me,
Oh, I should be good,
I would be good,
But gee!

He likes to bill and coo,
I never cared to bill and coo,
But he likes to bill and coo,
So that’s my weakness now!

He likes saxophone,
I never cared for a saxophone,
But he likes a saxophone,
So that’s my weakness now!

He likes those rainy days,
I never cared for a rainy day,
But he likes a rainy day,
So that’s my weakness now!

Oh, let it rain, let it pour,
But I think he knows just what it’s rainin’ for!

He likes a long goodnight,
I never had a long goodnight,
But he likes a long goodnight,
So that’s my weakness now!

And he likes (scat),
And I never cared for (scat),
But he likes (scat),
So that’s my weakness now!

What’s more, what’s more,
Oh, I think he knows what (scat) is for!

He likes (scat),
I never cared for (scat),
But he likes (scat),
So that’s my weakness now!
Oh, that’s my weakness now!

Angelina Weld Grimké “El Beso”

Twilight—and you
Quiet—the stars;
Snare of the shine of your teeth,
Your provocative laughter,
The gloom of your hair;
Lure of you, eye and lip;
Yearning, yearning,
Languor, surrender;
Your mouth,
And madness, madness,
Tremulous, breathless, flaming,
The space of a sigh;
Then awakening—remembrance,
Pain, regret—your sobbing;
And again, quiet—the stars,
Twilight—and you.

Guido Guinicelli “Canzone: Of the Gentle Heart” tr. Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Within the gentle heart Love shelters him
As birds within the green shade of the grove.
Before the gentle heart, in nature’s scheme,
Love was not, nor the gentle heart ere Love.
For with the sun, at once,
So sprang the light immediately; nor was
Its birth before the sun’s.
And Love hath his effect in gentleness
Of very self; even as
Within the middle fire the heat’s excess.

The fire of Love comes to the gentle heart
Like as its virtue to a precious stone;
To which no star its influence can impart
Till it is made a pure thing by the sun:
For when the sun hath smit
From out its essence that which there was vile
The star endoweth it.
And so the heart created by God’s breath
Pure, true, and clean from guile
A woman, like a star, enamoureth

In gentle heart Love for like reason is
For which the lamp’s flame is fanned and bowed:
Clear, piercing bright, it shines for its own bliss;
Nor would it burn there else, it is so proud.
For evil natures meet
With Love as it were water met with fire,
As cold abhorring heat.
Through gentle heart Love doth a track divine,–
Like knowing like; the same
As diamond runs through iron in the mine.

The sun strikes full upon the mud all day:
It remains vile, nor the sun’s worth is less.
“By race I am gentle,” the proud man doth say:
He is the mud, the sun is gentleness.
Let no man predicate
That aught the name of gentleness should have,
Even in a king’s estate,
Except the heart there be a gentle man’s.
The star-beam lights the wave,–
Heaven holds the star and the star’s radiance.

God, in the understanding of high Heaven,
Burns more than in our sight the living sun:
There to behold His Face unveiled is given;
And Heaven, whose will is homage paid to One,
Fulfills the things which live
In God, from the beginning excellent.
So should my lady give
That truth which in her eyes is glorified,
On which her heart is bent,
To me whose service waiteth at her side.

My lady, God shall ask, “What daredst thou?”
(When my soul stands with all her acts reviewed;)
“Thou passedst Heaven, into My sight, as now,
To make Me of vain love similitude.
To Me doth praise belong,
And to the Queen of all the realm of grace
Who slayeth fraud and wrong.”
Then may I plead: “As though from Thee he came,
Love wore an angel’s face:
Lord, if I loved her, count it not my shame.”

Thom Gunn “The Hug”

I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug,
Suddenly, from behind,
In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed:
Your instep to my heel,
My shoulder-blades against your chest.
It was not sex, but I could feel
Or braced, to mine,
And locking me to you […]

Tsangyang Gyatso “I sought my lover at twilight”

I sought my lover at twilight
Snow fell at daybreak.
Residing at the Potala
I am Rigdzin Tsangyang Gaytso
But in the back alleys of Shol-town
I am rake and stud.
Secret or not
No matter.
Footprints have been left in the snow.

Tsangyang Gyatso “White teeth smiling”

White teeth smiling.
Brightness of skin.
On my seat in the high lama’s row
At the quick edge of my glance
I caught her looking at me.

Marilyn Hacker “Ballad of Ladies Lost and Found”

Where are the women who, entre deux guerres
came out on college-graduation trips,
came to New York on football scholarships,
came to town meeting in a decorous pair?
Where are the expatriate salonnières,
the gym teacher, the math-department head?
Do nieces follow where their odd aunts led?
The elephants die off in Cagnes-sur-Mer.
H.D., whose “nature was bisexual,”
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Where are the single-combat champions:
the Chevalier d’Eon with curled peruke,
Big Sweet who ran with Zora in the jook,
open-handed Winifred Ellerman,
Colette, who hedged her bets and always won?
Sojourner’s sojourned where she need not pack
decades of whitegirl conscience on her back.
The spirit gave up Zora; she lay down
under a weed field miles from Eatonville,
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Where’s Stevie, with her pleated schoolgirl dresses,
and Rosa, with her permit to wear pants?
Who snuffed Clara’s mestiza flamboyance
and bled Frida onto her canvases?
Where are the Niggerati hostesses,
the kohl-eyed ivory poets with severe
chignons, the rebels who grew out their hair,
the bulldaggers with marceled processes?
Conglomerates co-opted Sugar Hill,
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Anne Hutchinson, called witch, termagent, whore,
fell to the long knives, having tricked the noose.
Carolina Maria de Jesús’
tale from the slag heaps of the landless poor
ended on a straw mat on a dirt floor.
In action thirteen years after fifteen
in prison, Eleanor of Aquitaine
accomplished half of Europe and fourscore
anniversaries for good or ill,
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Has Ida B. persuaded Susan B.
to pool resources for a joint campaign?
(Two Harriets act a pageant by Lorraine,
cheered by the butch drunk on the IRT
who used to watch me watch her watching me.)
We’ve notes by Angelina Grimké Weld
for choral settings drawn from the Compiled
Poems of Angelina Weld Grimké.
There’s no such tense as Past Conditional,
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Who was Sappho’s protégée, and when did
we lose Hrotsvitha, dramaturge and nun?
What did bibulous Suzanne Valadon
think about Artemesia, who tended
to make a life-size murderess look splendid?
Where’s Aphra, fond of dalliance and the pun?
Where’s Jane, who didn’t indulge in either one?
Whoever knows how Ende, Pintrix, ended
is not teaching Art History at Yale,
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Is Beruliah upstairs behind the curtain
debating Juana Inés de la Cruz?
Where’s savante Anabella, Augusta-Goose,
Fanny, Maude, Lidian, Freda, and Caitlin,
“without whom this could never have been written”?
Louisa who wrote, scrimped, saved, sewed, and nursed,
Malinche, who’s, like all translators, cursed,
Bessie, whose voice was hemp and steel and satin,
outside a segregated hospital,
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Where’s Amy, who kept Ma in cigars
and love, requited, both country and courtly,
although quinquagenerian and portly?
Where’s Emily? It’s very still upstairs.
Where’s Billie, whose strange fruit ripened in bars?
Where’s the street-scavenging Little Sparrow?
Too poor, too mean, too weird, too wide, too narrow:
Marie Curie, examining her scars,
was not particularly beautiful;
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Who was the grandmother of Frankenstein?
The Vindicatrix of the Rights of Woman.
Madame de Sévigné said prayers to summon
the postman just as eloquent as mine,
though my Madame de Grignan’s only nine.
But Mary Wollstonecraft had never known
that daughter, nor did Paula Modersohn.
The three-day infants blinked in the sunshine.
The mothers turned their faces to the wall;
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Tomorrow night the harvest moon will wane
that’s floodlighting the silhouetted wood.
Make your own footnotes; it will do you good.
Emeritae have nothing to explain.
She wasn’t very old, or really plain—
my age exactly, volumes incomplete.
“The life, the life, will it never be so sweet?”
She wrote it once; I quote it once again
midlife at midnight when the moon is full
and I can almost hear the warning bell
offshore, sounding through starlight like a stain
on waves that heaved over what she began
and truncated a woman’s chronicle,
and plain old Margaret Fuller died as well.

Marilyn Hacker “Eight Days in April”

1.
I broke a glass, got bloodstains on the sheet:
hereafter, must I only write you chaste
connubial poems? Now that I have traced
a way from there to here across the sweet-
est morning, rose-blushed blonde, will measured feet
advance processionally, where before
they scuff-heeled flights of stairs, kicked at a door,
or danced in wing-tips to a dirty beat?
Or do I tell the world that I have got
rich quick, got lucky (got laid), got just what
the doctor ordered, more than I deserved?
This is the second morning I woke curved
around your dreaming. In one night, I’ve seen
moonset and sunrise in your lion’s mane.

2.
Moons set and suns rise in your lion’s mane
through LP kisses or spread on my thighs.
Winter subsided while I fantasized
what April dawns frame in the windowpane.
Sweetheart, I’m still not getting enough sleep,
but I’m not tired, and outside it’s spring
in which we sprang the afternoon shopping
after I’d been inside you, O so deep
I thought we would be tangled at the roots.
I think we are. (I’ve never made such noise.
I’ve never come so hard, or come so far
in such a short time.) You’re an exemplar
piss-elegance is not reserved for boys.
Tonight we’ll go out in our gangster suits.

3.
Last night we went out in our gangster suits,
but just across the street to Santerello’s,
waited past nine for wine. We shone; the fellows
noticed. “You have a splendid linen coat,”
Dimitri told you as he sat us down.
(This used to be my local; now it’s chic.)
A restaurant table’s like a bed: we speak
the way we do calmed after love, alone
in the dark. There’s a lot to get to know.
We felt bad; we felt better. Soon I was
laid back enough to drink around the bend.
You got me home, to bed, like an old friend.
I like you, Rachel, when you’re scared, because
you tough it out while you’re feeling it through.

4.
You tough it out while while you’re feeling it through:
sometimes the bed’s rocked over tidal waves
that aren’t our pleasures. Everyone behaves
a little strangely when they’re in a new
neighborhood, language, continent, time zone.
We got here fast; your jet lag’s worse than mine.
I only had Paris to leave behind.
You left your whole young history. My own
reminds me to remind you, waking shaken
with tears, dream-racked, is standard for the course.
We need accommodation that allows
each one some storage space for her dead horse.
If the title weren’t already taken,
I’d call this poem “Directions to My House.”

5.
I’d call this poem “Directions to My House,”
except today I’m writing it in yours,
in your paisley PJ’s. The skylight pours
pale sunlight on white blankets. While I douse
my brain with coffee, you sleep on. Dream well
this time. We’ll have three sets of keys apiece:
uptown, downtown, Paris on a sublease.
Teach me to drive. (Could I teach you to spell?)
I think the world’s our house. I think I built
and furnished mine with space for you to move
through it, with me, alone in rooms, in love
with our work. I moved into one mansion
the morning when I touched, I saw, I felt
your face blazing above me like a sun.

6.
Your face blazing above me like a sun-
deity, framed in red-gold flames, gynandre
in the travail of pleasure, urgent, tender
terrible—my epithalamion
circles that luminous intaglio
—and you under me as I take you there,
and you opening me in your mouth where
the waves inevitably overflow
restraint. No, no, that isn’t the whole thing
(also you drive like cop shows, and you sing
gravel and gold, are street-smart, book-smart,
laugh from your gut) but it is (a soothing
poultice applied to my afflicted part)
the central nervous system and the heart.Collapse

7.
The central nervous system and the heart,
and whatever it is in me wakes me
at 5 am regardless, and what takes me
(when you do) ineluctably apart
and puts me back together; the too-smart,
too-clumsy kid glutted on chocolate cakes (me
at ten); the left-brain righteousness that makes me
make of our doubled dailiness an art
are in your capable square hands. O sweet,
possessives make me antsy: we are free
to choose each other perpetually.
Though I don’t think my French short-back-and-sides
means I’ll be the most orthodox of brides,
I broke a glass, got bloodstains on the sheet.

Marilyn Hacker “Rondeau after a Transatlantic Telephone Call”

Love, it was good to talk to you tonight.
You lather me like summer though. I light
up, sip smoke. Insistent through walls comes
the downstairs neighbor’s double-bass. It thrums
like toothache. I will shower away the sweat,

smoke, summer, sound. Slick, soapy, dripping wet,
I scrub the sharp edge off my appetite.
I want: crisp toast, cold wine prickling my gums,
love. It was good

imagining around your voice, you, late-
awake there. (It isn’t midnight yet
here.) This last glass washes down the crumbs.
I wish that I could lie down in your arms
and, turned toward sleep there (later), say, “Goodnight,
love, It was good.”

Marilyn Hacker “Villanelle for D.G.B.”

Every day our bodies separate,
exploded torn and dazed.
Not understanding what we celebrate

we grope through languages and hesitate
and touch each other, speechless and amazed;
and every day our bodies separate

us farther from our planned, deliberate
ironic lives. I am afraid, disphased,
not understanding what we celebrate

when our fused limbs and lips communicate
the unlettered power we have raised.
Every day our bodies’ separate

routines are harder to perpetuate.
In wordless darkness we learn wordless praise,
not understanding what we celebrate;

wake to ourselves, exhausted, in the late
morning as the wind tears off the haze,
not understanding how we celebrate
our bodies. Every day we separate.

Marilyn Hacker “Villanelle: Late Summer”

I love you and it makes me rather dull
when everyone is voluble and gay.
The conversation hits a certain lull.

I moon, rattled as china in a bull
shop, wanting to go, wanting to stay.
I love you and it makes me rather dull.

You might think I had cotton in my skull.
And why is one in Staithes and not in Hay?
The conversation hits a certain lull.

You took a fretful, unoriginal
and unrelaxing friend on holiday.
I love you and it makes me rather dull.

A sheepish sky, with puffs of yellow wool,
watches the tide interrogate the day.
The conversation hits a certain lull.

And I am grimly silent, swollen full
of unsaid things. I certainly can’t say
“I love you.” And it makes me rather dull.
The conversation hits a certain lull.

Hadewijch of Braban “The Cult of Love”

1
The birds have long been silent
that were blithe here before:
their blitheness has departed,
they have lost their summer now;
they would swiftly sing again
if that summer came again,
which they have chosen above all
and for which they were born:
one hears it in their voices then.

2
I’ll say no more of birds’ laments:
thir joy, their pain, is quickly gone;
I have more grievous cause to moan:
Love, to whom we should aspire,
weighs us down with her noble cares,
so we chase after false delights
and Love cannot enfold us then.
Ah, what has baseness done to us!
Who shall erase that faithlessness?

3
The mighty ones, whose hand is strong,
it is on them I still rely,
who work at all times in Love’s bond,
heedless of pain, grief, tragedy;
they want to ride through all the land
that lovers loving by love have found,
so perfect is their noble heart;
they know what Love can teach by love,
how Love exalts lovers by love.

4
Why then should anyone refuse,
since by loving Love can be won?
Why not ride, longing, through the storm,
trusting in the power of Love,
aspiring to the cult of Love?
Love’s peerlessness will then be seen–
ther, in the brightness of Love’s dawn,
where for Love’s sake is shunned no pain
and no pain caused by Love weighs down.

5
Often I call for help as a lost one,
but then, when you come close, my dear one,
with new solace you bear me up
and with high spirit I ride on,
sport with my dear so joyously
as if north and south and east
and west all lands belonged to me!
Then suddenly I am dashed down.–
Oh, what use to tell my pain?

Hadewijch of Braban “Love has seven names” tr. Willis Barnstone and Elene Kolb

Love has seven names.
Do you know what they are?
Rope, Light, Fire, Coal
make up its domain.

The others, also good,
more modest but alive:
Dew, Hell, the Living Water.
I name them here (for they
are in the Scriptures),
explaining every sign
for virtue and form.
I tell the truth in signs.
Love appears every day
for one who offers love.
That wisdom is enough.

Love is a ROPE, for it ties
and holds us in its yoke.
It can do all, nothing snaps it.
You who love must know.

The meaning of LIGHT
is known to those who
offer gifts of love,
approved or condemned.

The Scripture tell us
the symbol of COAL:
the one sublime gift
God gives the intimate soul.

Under the name of FIRE, luck,
bad luck, joy or no joy,
consumes. We are seized
by the same heat from both.

When everything is burnt
in its own violence, the DEW,
coming like a breeze, pauses
and brings the good.

LIVING WATER (its sixth name)
flows and ebbs
as my love grows
and disappears from sight.

HELL (I feel its torture)
damns, covering the world.
Nothing escapes. No one has grace
to see a way out.

Take care, you who wish
to deal with names
for love. Behind their sweetness
and wrath, nothing endures.
Nothing but wounds and kisses.

Though love appears far off,
you will move into its depth.

Hafiz, K [or Hafez] “Ghazal 22”

چو بشنوی سخن اهل دل مگو که خطاست
khast keh mago del ahl sakhn beshnawi chw
mistake a not them think words, lovers’ the hear you When

سخن شناس نه‌ای جان من خطا این جاست
jast ayn khata man jan nahi shanas skhn
take. your be must error the words, these recognize don’t You

سرم به دنیی و عقبی فرو نمی‌آید
namiaid byfrw yyw bih srm
soul and spirit my tame cannot hereafter and here The

تبارک الله از این فتنه‌ ها که در سر ماست
mast sirun dr kh fitnah ayn az allah tbark
stake. at is that mind my in intrigue the all for God Praise

در اندرون من خسته دل ندانم کیست
qust ndanm del qste man andrwn dur
heart my within resides who not know I

که من خموشم و او در فغان و در غوغاست
ghwaghast dur wa fghan dur an wa khamushim man kh
quake and shake must he silent, am I Though

دلم ز پرده برون شد کجایی ای مطرب
mutrib jayyay shada brune purdah g dlam
song a play veil, the through went heart My

بنال هان که از این پرده کار ما به نواست
nwast bih ma kar purdah ayn az ke Han Banal
make must I music this fate, my Hark,

مرا به کار جهان هرگز التفات نبود
nood ailtifat hargez jahan kar bih mra
forsake I affairs worldly heed, no paid I

رخ تو در نظر من چنین خوشش آراست
arast khwashsh chenyn man nazar dur tw rakha
partake I world the of beauty beauty, your for is It

نخفته‌ام ز خیالی که می‌پزد دل من
man dl mypzed kh khyli z nakhfitihi‌am
awake and restless am I fire, on is heart My

خمار صدشبه دارم شرابخانه کجاست
kgast sherbhaneh dharm saddbeh khamar
headache day hundred my cure to tavern the To

چنین که صومعه آلوده شد ز خون دلم
dilm khon z shada alodh swamaeah kh chnyn
My bleeding heart has left its mark in the temple

گرم به باده بشویید حق به دست شماست
shmasit dost bih haqun bshoyed badah bih grm
lake wine a in body my wash to right every have You

از آن به دیر مغانم عزیز می‌دارند
midrand pzegg maghanim dyr bih an az
because welcome am I Magi, the of abode the In

که آتشی که نمیرد همیشه در دل ماست
mast del der hamish nemird ke atchi kh
.awake is heart my in dies, never that fire The

چه ساز بود که در پرده می‌زد آن مطرب
mutrib an mazd purdah dur kh bwud saz chh
?played minstrel the song the was What

که رفت عمر و هنوزم دماغ پر ز هواست
huast z pra dimagh hnwzm wa eumar ruft kh
!fake still I breathing, but gone, is life My

ندای عشق تو دیشب در اندرون دادند
dadand andron der deshub tw ashq naday
break did love your of voice the night, last me Within

فضای سینه حافظ هنوز پر ز صداست
sadaast z pra Henouz Hafez Sinh Fadi
sake. your for shakes and quivers still breast Hafiz’s

Nancy Hamilton & Morgan Lewis “How High the Moon”

Somewhere there’s music
How faint the tune
Somewhere there’s heaven
How high the moon
There is no moon above
When love is far away too
Till it comes true
That you love me as I love you

Somewhere there’s music
How near, how far
Somewhere there’s heaven
It’s where you are
The darkest night would shine
If you would come to me soon
Until you will, how still my heart
How high the moon

Somewhere there’s music
How faint the tune
Somewhere there’s heaven
How high the moon
The darkest night would shine
If you would come to me soon
Until you will, how still my heart
How high the moon

Oscar Hammerstein & Richard Rodgers “All er Nothin'”

Will:
You’ll have to be a little more standoffish
When fellers offer you a buggy ride.
Ado Annie:
I’ll give a imitation of a crawfish
And dig myself a hole where I can hide.
Will:
I heared how you was kickin’ up some capers
When I was off in Kansas City Mo.
I heard some things you couldn’t print in papers
From fellers who been talkin’ like they know!
Annie:
Foot!
I only did the kind of things I orta, sorta,
To you I was as faithful as c’n be fer me.
Them stories ’bout the way I lost my bloomers – Rumors!
A lot of tempest in a pot o’ tea!
Will:
The whole thing don’t sound very good to me.
Annie:
Well, y’ see….
Will:
I go and sow my last wild oat!
I cut out all shenanigans.
I save my money, don’t gamble or drink
In the back room down at Flannigans!
I give up lotsa other things
A gentleman never mentions,
But before I give up anymore,
I wanta know your intentions!
With me it’s all er nuthin’.
Is it all er nuthin’ with you?
It cain’t be “in between”
It cain’t be “now and then”
No half and half romance will do!
I’m a one woman man, Home lovin’ type,
All complete with slippers and pipe.
Take me like I am, er leave me be!
If you cain’t give me all, give me nuthin’
And nuthin’s whut you’ll git from me!
Annie:
Not even sump’n?
Will:
Nuthin’s whut you’ll git from me!
Annie:
Would you build me a house,
All painted white,
Neat and clean and shiny and bright?
Will:
Big enough fer two but not fer three!
Annie:
Supposin’ that we should have a third one….?
Will:
He better look a lot like me,
Annie:
The spittin’ image!
Will:
He better look a lot like me!
Annie:
With you it’s all er nuthin’.
All fer you and nuthin’ fer me!
But if a wife is wise, she’s gotta realize
That men like you are wild and free.
So I ain’t gonna fuss, ain’t gonna frown,
Have your fun, go out on the town,
Stay up late and don’t come home till three.
And go right off to sleep if you’re sleepy,
There’s no use waitin’ up fer me!
Will:
Oh, Ado Annie!
Annie:
No use waitin’ up fer me!
Will:
Come on and kiss me….

Oscar Hammerstein & Jerome Kern “All the Things You Are”

Time and again I’ve longed for adventure
Something to make my heart beat the faster
What did I long for? I never really knew
Finding your love I’ve found my adventure
Touching your hand, my heart beats the faster
All that I want in all of this world is you

[Chorus:]
You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long
You are the breathless hush of evening
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song
You are the angel glow that lights a star
The dearest things I know are what you are
Some day my happy arms will hold you
And some day I’ll know that moment divine
When all the things you are, are mine

Oscar Hammerstein II & Jerome Kern “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man”

Oh listen, sister
I love my mister man and I can’t tell you why
Dere ain’t no reason why I should love dat man
It must be sumpin’ dat de angels done plan
De chimbley’s smokin’
De roof is leakin’ in
But he don’t seem to care
He can be happy
With jes’ a sip of gin
I even loves him when his kisses got gin

Fish got to swim and birds got to fly
I got to love one man till I die
Can’t help lovin’ that man of mine

Tell me he’s lazy
Tell me he’s slow
Tell me I’m crazy, maybe, I know
Can’t help lovin’ that man of mine

When he goes away
Dat’s a rainy day
And when he comes back dat day is fine
The sun will shine

He can come home as late as can be
Home without him ain’t no home to me
Can’t help lovin’ that man of mine

He can come home as late as can be
Home without him ain’t no home to me
Can’t help lovin’ that man the way I do,
Oh Can’t help lovin’ that man of mine

Oscar Hammerstein II & Georges Bizet “Dat’s Love (Habanera)”

Love’s a baby that grows up wild
And he don’t do what you want him to
Love ain’t nobody’s angel-child
And he won’t pay any mind to you

One man gave me his diamond stud
And I won’t give him a cigarette
One man treats me like I was mud
And what I got, dat man can get

Dat’s love, dat’s love, dat’s love, dat’s love
You go for me and I’m taboo
But if you’re hard to get, I’ll go for you
And if I do, then you are through
Oh, my baby, that’s the end of you

…. So take your cue
Oh, Don’t say I didn’t tell you true
…. I told you truly, if I love you
Dat’s the end of you!

When your love bird decides to fly
There ain’t no door that you can close
She just pecks you a quick good-bye
And flicks de salt from her tail and goes

If you listen then you get taught
And here’s your lesson for today
If I choose you, then you get caught
But once I got you, I go away

Dat’s love…

Oscar Hammerstein II & Jerome Kern “Don’t Ever Leave Me”

I was created for one man alone
It wasn’t easy to find
Now that I found him, I wonder just how
I could have lived right up to now

Now that I am something completed by you
I am no one, just part of two

Don’t ever leave me, now that you’re here
Here is where you belong
Ev’rything seems so right when you’re near
When you’re away it’s all wrong

I’m so dependent, when I need comfort
I always run to you
Don’t ever leave me, ’cause if you do
I’ll have no one to run to

Don’t ever leave me alone

Oscar Hammerstein II & Richard Rodgers“Hello, Young Lovers”

When I think of Tom
I think about a night
When the earth smelled of summer
And the sky was streaked with white
And the soft mist of England
Was sleeping on a hill

I remember this
And I always will
There are new lovers now
On the same silent hill
Looking on the same blue sea
And I know Tom and I are a part of them all
And they’re all a part of Tom an’ me

Hello young lovers, whoever you are
I hope your troubles are few
All my good wishes go with you tonight
I’ve been in love like you

Be brave, young lovers, and follow your star
Be brave and faithful and true
Cling very close to each other tonight
I’ve been in love like you
I know how it feels to have wings on your heels
And to fly down a street in a trance
You fly down a street on the chance that you meet
And you meet—not really by chance

Don’t cry young lovers, whatever you do
Don’t cry because I’m alone
All of my memories are happy tonight
I’ve had a love of my own
I’ve had a love of my own, like yours
I’ve had a love of my own

Oscar Hammerstein II & Richard Rodgers “If I Loved you”

But somehow I can see
Just exactly how I’d be

If I loved you,
Time and again I would try to say
All I’d want you to know.
If I loved you,
Words wouldn’t come in an easy way
Round in circles I’d go!
Longin’ to tell you,
But afraid and shy,
I’d let my golden chances pass me by!
Soon you’d leave me,
Off you would go in the mist of day,
Never, never to know how I loved you
If I loved you.

Well, anyway, you mean you don’t love me.
That’s what you said, isn’t it?

Yes!
I can smell ’em, can you, ah?
The blossoms. The wind brings ’em down!

Billy there ain’t much wind tonight
Hardly any.
You can’t hear a sound, not the turn of a leaf
Nor the fall of a wave hittin’ the sand.
The tide’s creepin’ up on the beach like a thief,
Afraid to be caught stealin’ the land!
On a night like this I start to wonder
What life is all about.

And I always say two heads are better than one to
figure it out.

I don’t need you, I don’t need anybody helpin’ me.
Well, I got it figured out for myself.
We’re not important. What are we?
A couple o’ specks with nothin’
Look up there

There’s a hell of a lotta stars in the sky,
And the sky’s so big the sea looks small,
And two little people, you and I
We don’t count at all.

You’re a funny kid, you know?
I don’t remember meetin’ a girl like you.
Hey, you’re tryin’ to get me to marry you?

No!

Then what’s puttin’ into my head, babe?
You’re diff’rent, alright! I know what it is…
You have doped me with that little kid’s face, right?
You’ve adjusted me!
I wonder what it’d be like

What?

Nothin’.
No, I know what it’d be like.
It’d be awful! I can just see myself-

Kinda scrawny, and pale
Picking at my food,
And love-sick like any other guy.
I’d throw away my sweater, and dress up like a dude
In a dicky and a collar and a tie.
If I loved you.

But you don’t!

No, I don’t!

But somehow I can see
Just exactly how I’d be
If I loved you,
Time and again I would try to say
All I’d want you to know.
If I loved you,
Words wouldn’t come in an easy way
Round in circles I’d go!
Longin’ to tell you,
But afraid and shy
I’d let my golden chances pass me by!
Soon you’d leave me,
Off you would go in the mist of day,
Never, never to know
How I loved you
If I loved you.

Aha I’m not the kinda fella to marry anybody!
No, even if a girl was foolish enough to want me to,
I wouldn’t!

Julie
Don’t worry about it, Billy!

Billy
Who’s worried?

Julie
You were right about there bein’ no wind.
The blossoms are comin’ down by theirselves.
Just they’re in time to, I reckon.

Oscar Hammerstein II & Ben Oakland “I’ll Take Romance”

I’ll take romance;
While my heart is young and eager to fly,
I’ll give my heart a try,
I’ll take romance!

I’ll take romance;
While my arms are strong and eager for you,
I’ll give my arms their cue,
I’ll take romance!

So my lover,
When you want me, call me,
In the hush of vthe evening;
When you call me,
In the hush of the evening
I’ll rush to my –

• First real romance,
  While my heart is young and eager and gay,
  I’ll give my heart away,
  I’ll take romance!

While my arms are strong and eager for you,
I’ll give my arms their cue,
I’ll take romance!

So my lover,
When you want me, call me,
In the hush of vthe evening;
When you call me,
In the hush of the evening
I’ll rush to my –

• First real romance,
  While my heart is young and eager and gay,
  I’ll give my heart away,
  I’ll take romance!
  I’ll take romance!
  I’ll take romance!

Oscar Hammerstein II & Jerome Kern “I’ve Told Ev’ry Little Star”

I make up things to say on my way to you
On my way to you I find things to say

I can write poems, too, when you’re far away
When you’re far away, I write poems, too

But when you are near, my throat goes dry
When you are near, I only sigh, oh dear

I’ve told ev’ry little star
Just how sweet I think you are
Why haven’t I told you

I’ve told ripples in a brook
Made my heart an open book
Why haven’t I told you

Friends ask me am I in love
I always answer “Yes”
Might as well confess
If I don’t, they guess

Maybe you may know it, too
Oh, my darling, if you do
Why haven’t you told me, dear
Why haven’t you told me

But when you are near, my throat goes dry
When you are near, I only sigh, oh dear

I’ve told ev’ry little star
Just how sweet I think you are
Why haven’t I told you
Why haven’t, why haven’t I told you

I’ve told ripples in a brook
Made my heart an open book
Why haven’t I told you
Each time I hold you

Friends ask me if I’m in love
I always answer “Yes”
Might as well confess
For if I don’t, they guess

Maybe you may know it too
But oh, my darling, if you do
Why haven’t you told me
Ooooohhhhh-aaaaahhhhh

Oscar Hammerstein II & Jerome Kern “Make Believe”

[GAYLORD]
Only make believe I love you
Only make believe that you love me
Others find peace of mind in pretending;
Couldn’t you? Couldn’t I? Couldn’t we
Make believe our lips are blending
In a phantom kiss or two or three?
Might as well make believe I love you
For to tell the truth, I do

(Verse)
[GAYLORD]
Your pardon I pray
‘Twas too much to say
The words that betray my heart

[MAGNOLIA]
We only pretend
You do not offend
In playing a lover’s part
The game of “just supposing” is the sweetest game I know
Our dreams are more romantic than the world we see

[GAYLORD]
And if the things we dream about don’t happen to be so
That’s just an unimportant technicality

[MAGNOLIA]
Though the cold and brutal fact is
You and I have never met
We need not mind conventions, p’s and q’s
If we put our thoughts in practice
We could banish all regret
Imagining what sweet ending we choose

(Chorus 2)
[MAGNOLIA]
We could make believe I love you
We could make believe that you love me

[GAYLORD AND MAGNOLIA]
Others find peace of mind in pretending;
Couldn’t you? Couldn’t I? Couldn’t we

[GAYLORD]
Make believe our lips are blending
In a phantom kiss or two or three?

[GAYLORD AND MAGNOLIA]
Might as well make believe I love you
For to tell the truth, I do

Oscar Hammerstein II & Richard Rodgers “Many a New Day”

[Laurey:]
Why should a woman who is healthy and strong
Blubber like a baby if her man goes away
A weeping and a wailing how he’s done her wrong?
That’s one thing you’ll never hear me say

Never gonna think that the man I lose
Is the only man among men
I’ll snap my fingers to show I don’t care
I’ll buy me a brand new dress to wear
I’ll scrub my neck and I’ll brush my hair
And start all over again

[Chorus:]
Many a new face will please my eye
Many a new love will find me
Never have I once looked back to sigh
Over the romance behind me
Many a new day will dawn
Before I do

Many a light lad may kiss and fly
A kiss gone by is bygone
Never have I asked an August sky
Where has last July gone?
Never have I wandered through the rye
Wondering where has some guy gone
Many a new day will dawn
Before I do

[Together:]

[Chorus]

[Laurey:]
Never have I chased the honeybee
Who carelessly cajoled me
Somebody else just as sweet as he
Cheered me and consoled me
Never have I wept into my tea
Over the deal someone doled me

[Together:]
Many a new day will dawn

[Laurey:]
Many a red sun will set
Many a blue moon will shine
Before I do

[Together:]

[Chorus]

[Laurey:]
Many a red sun will set
Many a blue moon will shine
Before I do

Oscar Hammerstein II & Richard Rodgers “Mister Snow”

CARRIE:
Julie, I’ve been bustin’ to tell you somethin’ lately.

JULIE:
You have?

CARRIE:
The reason I didn’t care to tell you before is ’cause you didn’t have
a fella of your own. Hmm hmm… But now that you got one, I can tell
you about mine!

JULIE:
I’m glad you gotta fella, Carrie!

CARRIE:
His name is Mister Snow
And an upstandin’ man is he
He comes home ev’ry night in his round-bottomed boat
With a net full of herring from the sea

An almost perfect beau
As refined as a girl could wish
But he spends so much time in his round-bottomed boat
That he can’t seem to lose the smell of fish

The fust time he kissed me, the whiff from his clo’es
Knocked me flat on the floor of the room
But now that I love him, my heart’s in my nose
And fish is my fav’rite perfume

Last night he spoke quite low
And a fair-spoken man is he
And he said, “Miss Pipperidge, I’d like it fine
If I could be wed with a wife
And, indeed, Miss Pipperidge, if you’ll be mine
I’ll be yours fer the rest of my life”

Next moment we were promised
And now my mind’s in a maze
Fer all I ken do is look forward to
That wonderful day of days…

When I marry Mister Snow
The flowers’ll be buzzin’ with the hum of bees
The birds’ll make racket in the churchyard trees
When I marry Mister Snow

Then it’s off to home we’ll go
And both of us’ll look a little dreamy-eyed
A drivin’ to a cottage by the oceanside
Where the salty breezes blow

He’ll carry me ‘cross the threshold
And I’ll be as meek as a lamb
Then he’ll set me on my feet
And I’ll say kinda sweet, “Well, Mister Snow, here I am!”

Then I’ll kiss him so he’ll know
That evry’thin’ll be as right as right ken be
A-livin’ in a cottage by the sea with me
For I love that Mister Snow

That young seafarin’,
Bold and darin’,
Big bewhiskered, overbearin’
Darling, Mister Snow!

REPRISE:

GIRLS:
When you walk down the isle all the heads will turn
What a rustlin’ of bonnets there’ll be
And you’ll try to smile, but your cheeks will burn
And your eyes’ll get so dim you can hardly see

With your orange blossoms quiverin’ in your hand
And you’ll stumble to the spot where the parson is
Then your finger will be ringed with a golden band
And you’ll know the feller’s yours, and you are his

CARRIE:
When I marry Mister Snow
The flowers’ll be humming with the hum of bees
The birds’ll make a racket in the churchyard trees
When I marry Mister Snow

Then it’s off to home we’ll go
And both of us’ll look a little dreamy-eyed
A drivin’ to a cottage by the oceanside
Where the salty breezes blow

He’ll carry me across the threshold
And I’ll be as meek as a lamb
Then he’ll set me on my feet
And I’ll say kind of sweet, “Well Mister Snow, here I am!”

ENOCH SNOW:
Then I’ll kiss her so she’ll know
That ev’rything’ll be as right as right can be
A livin’ in a cottage by the sea with me
Where the salty breezes blow

I love Miss Pipperidge,
And I aim to Make Miss Pipperidge
Change her name to
Missus Enoch Snow

Oscar Hammerstein II & Richard Rodgers “People Will Say We’re in Love”

Why do they think up stories that link my name with yours?
Why do the neighbors chatter all day, behind their doors?
I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue.
Here is the gist, a practical list of “donts” for you.

Don’t throw bouquets at me
Don’t please my folks too much
Don’t laugh at my jokes too much
People will say we’re in love!

Don’t sigh and gaze at me
Your sighs are so like mine
Your eyes mustn’t glow like mine
People will say we’re in love!

Don’t start collecting things
Give me my rose and my glove.
Sweetheart they’re suspecting things
People will say we’re in love.

Don’t praise my charm too much
Don’t look so vain with me
Don’t stand in the rain with me
People will say we’re in love!

Don’t take my arm too much
Don’t keep your hand in mine
Your hand feels so grand in mine
People will say we’re in love!

Don’t dance all night with me
Till the stars fade from above.
They’ll see it’s alright with me
People will say we’re in love.

Oscar Hammerstein II & Richard Rodgers“Some Enchanted Evening”

Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger
You may see a stranger across a crowded room
And somehow you know, you’ll know even then
That somewhere you’ll see her again and again

Some enchanted evening, someone may be laughing
You may hear her laughing across a crowded room
And night after night, as strange as it seems
The sound of her laughter will sing in your dreams

Who can explain it, who can tell you why?
Fools give you reasons, wise men never try

Some enchanted evening, when you find your true love
When you hear her call you across a crowded room
Then fly to her side and make her your own
Or all through your life, you may dream all alone

Once you have found her, never let her go
Once you have found her, never let her go

Oscar Hammerstein II & Jerome Kern “The Song Is You”

I hear music when I look at you
A beautiful theme of every dream I ever knew
Down deep in my heart I hear it play
I feel it start, then melt away

I hear music when I touch your hand
A beautiful melody from some enchanted land
Down deep in my heart, I hear it say
Is this the day?

I alone have heard this lovely strain
I alone have heard this glad refrain
Must it be forever inside of me?
Why can’t I let it go
Why can’t I let you know

Why can’t I let you know the song my heart would sing?
That beautiful rhapsody of love and youth and spring
The music is sweet
The words are true
The song is you

Oscar Hammerstein II, Otto Harbach, & Jerome Kern“Who (Stole Away My Heart)?”

Who, stole my heart away
Who, makes me dream all day
Dreams I know can never come true
Seems as though I’ll ever be blue

Who, means my happiness
Who, would I answer yes to
No one, but you!

A woman’s intentions, her feminine inventions
A seldom if ever defined
And I am no different, why should I be different?
I simply can’t make up my mind
How can I solve this situation
Except by the process of elimination

Oh…
Repeat Chorus

Can it be, can it be, who can it be?

You’ll never guess who has stolen my heart away dreaming dreams I know
Can never come true…
Seems as though
I’ll never be blue!

Oh who, means my happiness
Who, would I answer yes to
Well you oughta guess who, who…
No one but you!

Oscar Hammerstein II & Otto Harbach“A Wonderful Guy”

I’m as corny as Kansas in August,
I’m as normal as blueberry pie.
No more a smart little girl with no heart,
I have found me a wonderful guy!
I am in a conventional dither,
With a conventional star in my eye.
And you will note there’s a lump in my throat
When I speak of that wonderful guy!
I’m as trite and as gay as a daisy in May,
A cliche coming true!
I’m bromidic and bright as a moon happy night
Pouring light on the dew!
I’m as corny as Kansas in August,
High as a flag on the Fourth of July!
If you’ll excuse an expression I use,
I’m in love, I’m in love,
I’m in love, I’m in love,
I’m in love with a wonderful guy!

Oscar Hammerstein II & Richard Rodgers“Younger Than Springtime”

[CABLE]
I touch your hand
And my arm grows strong
Like a pair of birds
That burst with song
My eyes look down
At your lovely face
And I hold the world
In my embrace

Younger than springtime, are you
Softer than starlight, are you
Warmer than winds of June
Are the gentle lips you gave me
Gayer than laughter, are you
Sweeter than music, are you
Angel and lover, heaven and earth
Are you to me

And when your youth
And joy invade my arms
And fill my heart as now they do
Then younger than springtime, am I
Gayer than laughter, am I
Angel and lover, heaven and earth
Am I with you

Han Yong’un “The Artist” tr. Bruce Taylor

I’m no artist but in bed
I can paint with my fingertip
your breast your mouth and cheeks,
and surely that crooked smile that floats around your eyebrows as you sleep

When the neighbors are gone
and even the crickets quiet
I am still too shy to sing
the songs you taught me
to the sleeping cat.

I am not a poet but I can describe
your glance, your voice,
the way you walk in the garden
before coming to bed,
even each separate pebble
on the path that runs
the twenty steps from here to there.

Han Yong’un “The Embroidery’s Secret”

[…] Whenever my heart aches I try to work on my
embroidery, my mind follows down
the golden thread into the eye of my needle, and out of
the purse a song flows crystal clear and becomes my
heart;
And as yet there is no treasure in this world that
deserves to be kept in the purse.
I haven’t finished embroidering the little purse, not
because I don’t want to–I have left it unfinished
because I like embroidering it.

Han Yong’un [or Yongwun] “Love’s Reasons”

내가 당신을 사랑하는 것은 까닭이 없는 것이 아닙니다. 다른 사람들은 나의 홍안(紅顔)만을 사랑하지마는, 당신은 나의 백발도 사랑하는 까닭입니다. 내가 당신을 기루어하는 것은 까닭이 없는 것은 아닙니다. 다른 사람들은 나의 미소만을 사랑하지마는, 당신은 나의 눈물도 사랑하는 까닭입니다. 내가 당신을 기다리는 것은 까닭이 없는 것은 아닙니다. 다른 사람들은 나의 건강만을 사랑하지마는, 당신은 나의 죽음도 사랑하는 까닭입니다.

1 naega dangsin-eul salanghaneun geos-eun kkadalg-i eobsneun geos-i anibnida. 2 daleun salamdeul-eun naui hong-an(hong-an)man-eul salanghajimaneun, dangsin-eun naui baegbaldo salanghaneun kkadalg-ibnida. 3 naega dangsin-eul gilueohaneun geos-eun kkadalg-i eobsneun geos-eun anibnida. 4 daleun salamdeul-eun naui misoman-eul salanghajimaneun, dangsin-eun naui nunmuldo salanghaneun kkadalg-ibnida. 5 naega dangsin-eul gidalineun geos-eun kkadalg-i eobsneun geos-eun anibnida. 6 daleun salamdeul-eun naui geongangman-eul salanghajimaneun, dangsin-eun naui jug-eumdo salanghaneun kkadalg-ibnida.

It’s not for nothing that I love you: It’s that others love my ruddy cheeks only–you love even my white hair. It’s not for nothing that I long for you: It’s that others love my smile only–you love even my tears. It’s not for nothing that I wait for you: It’s that others love only my health–you love even my death.

Han Yong’un “The Master’s Sermon”

[…] The Master is quite a fool.
He does not know: true it hurts to be tied with love, but
it will hurt more to cut the ties of love, it will hurt
more than even death.
In the tight binding of love’s bonds lies their unbinding. […]

Han Yong’un “Your Touch”

While your love is hotter than a fire that will melt steel,
your touch is cold.
While I’ve met with cold things in this world, I’ve yet to
meet with anything so cold as your touch.

The fall wind itself is not colder than your touch as it
comes rustling the leaves fallen on a
frosty morning when chrysanthemum are in bloom. […]

E. Y. Harburg & Harold Arlen “Down with Love”

You sons of Adam, you daughters of Eve
The time has come to take, your love-torn hearts off your sleeve
Look, look about you, what, what do you see?
Love-sick, love-lorn, love-wrecked, love-worn, boo hoomanity

There’ll be no peace on Earth Until this curse
Is wiped off from this love-mapped universe
Are we mice or are we men? Can’t you see the light?
Come you fellow victims lets unite

Down with love, the flowers and rice and shoes
Down with love, the root of all midnight blues
Down with things that give you that well-known pain
Take that mood and wrap it in cellophane

Down with love, let’s liquidate all its friends
Moon and June and roses and rainbows ends
Down with songs that mourn about night and day
Down with love, just take it away, away
Take it away, take it away

Give it back to the birds and the bees and the V and E’s
Down with Eyes romantic and stupid
Down with signs, down with Cupid
Ruttle that stuff that duff

Down with love
Down with love
Down with love
Down, down, down with love

E.Y. Harburg & Harold Arlen “Happiness Is Just a Thing Called Joe”

Skies ain’t gonna cloud no more
The crops ain’t gonna fail
Caught a blue bird by the toe
A rainbow by the tail
A certain man with eyes that shine
Voodooed up this heart of mine

It seems like
Happiness is just a thing called Joe
He’s got a smile that makes the lilacs want to grow
He’s got a way that makes the angels heave a sigh
When they see little Joe passing by
Sometimes the cabin’s gloomy and the table’s bare
But when he kisses me it’s Christmas everywhere
Troubles fly away and life is easy

Does he love me good?
That’s all I need to know

Seems like happiness is just a thing called Joe
Little Joe
Little Joe
Little Joe

E. Y. Harburg & Burton Lane “If This Isn’t Love”

A secret, a secret, he says I’ve got a little secret,
A secret, a secret, a secret kind of secret.
I’ aching for to shout it to every daffodil
And tell the world about it, in fact I think I will.

If this isn’t love, the whole world is crazy.
If this isn’t love, I’m daft as a daisy,
With moons all a-round and cows jumping over,
There’s something amiss, and I’ll eat my hat if this isn’t love.

(Orchestral Break)

If this isn’t love, then winter is a summer,
If this isn’t love, my heart needs a plumber
I’m swinging on stars, I’m riding on rainbows,
I’m busting with bliss and I’ll kiss your hand if this isn’t love.

E. Y. Harburg & Harold Arlen “Last Night When We Were Young”

Last night when we were young
Love was a star, a song unsung
Life was so new, so real so right
Ages ago last night

Today the world is old
You flew away and time grew cold
Where is that star that shone so bright
Ages ago last night

To think that spring had depended
On merely this, a look, a kiss
To think that something so splendid
Could slip away in one little daybreak

So now, let’s reminisce
And recollect the sighs and the kisses
The arms that clung
When we were young last night

(Instrumental Break)

To think that spring had depended
On merely this, a look, a kiss
To think that something so splendid
Could slip away in one little daybreak

So now, let’s reminisce
And recollect the sighs and the kisses
The arms that clung
When we were young last night

E. Y. Harburg & Burton Lane “Old Devil Moon”

I look at you and suddenly
Something in your eyes I see
Soon begins bewitching me
It’s that old devil moon
That you stole from the skies
It’s that old devil moon in your eyes

You and you glance make this romance
Too hot to handle
Stars in the night
Blazing their light
Can’t hold a candle
To your razzle-dazzle

You’ve got me flyin’ high and wide
On a magic carpet ride
Full of butterflies inside
Wanna cry, wanna croon
Wanna laugh like a loon
It’s that old devil moon in your eyes

Just when I think
I’m free as a dove
Old devil moon
Deep in your eyes
Blinds me with love

E. Y. Harburg & Sammy Fain “The Springtime Cometh”

(spoken)
Flahooley, you’re back in the world!
And Spring is back!
Look, lilacs!
Tulips!
Buttercups!
It must’ve been a bad dream
And now…the nightmare endeth!
The nightingale singeth!
And the springtime cometh!

(sung)
The springtime cometh
Hummingbird hummeth
Little brook runneth
Merry maiden blusheth
Ice man goeth
For thy beauty bloweth
Spring to me!

The bright world shineth
Tender awn twineth
Starry eye gloweth
For they knoweth that without thee
Spring would nevеr be

Daffodil….He can’t stand still
Cap he flingеth
Cane he swingeth
Song he singeth
A-Ding dong day
Which is to say

The springtime cometh
Hummingbird hummeth
Sugar plum plummeth
Heart, it Humpty-Dummeth
And to summeth
Up, the springtime cometh
For the love of thee!

Lad and lass
In tall green grass
Gaily skippeth
Nylon rippeth
Zipper zippeth
A-Ding dong day
Which is to say

The springtime cometh
Hummingbird hummeth
Geranee-yummeth
Chrysanthe-mummeth
Bubble gum gummeth

(spoken)
Oh-, chain reaction, I can’t stop!

(sung)
And the springtime cometh
For the love of thee

Lad and lass
In tall green grass
Softly speaketh
Dreams they seeketh
Cheek to cheeketh
A-Ding dong day
Which is to say

The springtime cometh
Hummingbird hummeth
Sugar plum plummeth
Heart, it Humpty-Dummeth
And to summeth
Up, the springtime cometh
For the love of thee!

E. Y. Harburg & Arthur Schwartz “Then I’ll Be Tired of You”

I’ll be tired of you when stars are tired gleaming
When I am tired of dreaming
Then I’ll be tired of you
This I know is true, when wings are tired blowing
When grass is tired of growing
Then I’ll be tired of you

Beyond the years, till day is night, till wrong is right
Till birds refuse to sing
Beyond the years, the echo of my only love
Will still be whispering, whispering

If my throbbing heart should ever start repeating
That it is tired of beating
Then I’ll be tired of you
Then I’ll be tired of you

E. Y. Harburg & Vernon Duke “What Is There to Say?”

What is there to say
And what is there to do?
The thrill I’ve been seeking
Has practically speaking come true!

So what is there to say
And what is there to do?
I knew in a moment
Contentment and whole meant just you!

You are so lovable, so livable,
Your wonders are quite unforgivable!
You’re made to marvel at
And words to that effect, so

What is there to say
And what is there to do?
My heart’s in a deadlock,
I’d even face wedlock with you!

You are so lovable, so livable,
Your beauty is quite unforgivable!
You’re made to marvel at
And words to that effect, so

What is there to say
And what is there to do?
My heart’s in a deadlock,
I’d even face wedlock with you!

E. Y. Harburg & Burton Lane “When I’m Not near the Girl I Love”

Oh my heart is beating wildly
And it’s all because you’re here
When I’m not near the girl I love
I love the girl I’m near
Ev’ry femme that flutters by me
Is a flame that must be fanned
When I can’t fondle the hand I’m fond of
I fondle the hand at hand
My heart’s in a pickle
It’s constantly fickle
And not too partickle, I fear
When I’m not near the girl I love
I love the girl I’m near

I’m confessing a confession
And I hope I’m not verbose
When I’m not close to the kiss that I cling to
I cling to the kiss that’s close
As I’m more and more a mortal
I am more and more a case
When I’m not facing the face that I fancy
I fancy the face I face
For Sharon I’m carin’
But Susan I’m choosin’
I’m faithful to whos’n is here
When I’m not near the girl I love
I love the girl I’m near

Thomas Hardy “Beeny Cliff”

I
O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,

And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free

The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.
II
The pale mews plained
below us, and the waves seemed far away
In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say,
As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.

III
A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain,
And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain,
And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.

IV

Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky,
And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh,
And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?

V
What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore,
The woman now is–elsewhere–whom the ambling pony bore,
And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will see it nevermore.

After his wife Emma died, Hardy wrote “Beeny Cliff” as a commemoration of their romance and the natural places which were special to them, as the poem’s subtitle indicates.

Thomas Hardy “Neutral Tones”

We stood by a pond that winter day,
And the sun was white, as though chidden of God,
And a few leaves lay on the starving sod;
– They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
Over tedious riddles of years ago;
And some words played between us to and fro
On which lost the more by our love.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
Alive enough to have strength to die;
And a grin of bitterness swept thereby
Like an ominous bird a-wing….

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives,
And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me
Your face, and the God curst sun, and a tree,
And a pond edged with grayish leaves.

Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock “She Loves Me”

Well! Well! Well! Well! Well!
Well! Well! Well! Well! Well!
Will wonders never cease?
I didn’t like her!
I didn’t like her!
I couldn’t stand her
I couldn’t stand her!
I wouldn’t have her!
I never knew her,
But now I do!
And I could…
And I would…
And I know…

She loves me
And to my amazement
I love it knowing that she loves me
She loves me,
True, she doesn’t show it
How could she,
When she doesn’t know it.
Yesterday she loathed me, bah!
Now today she likes me, ah!
And tomorrow, tomorrow…
AAAAAAAAAAAh!

My teeth ache from the urge to touch her
I’m speechless for I mustn’t tell her
It’s wrong now, but it won’t be long now
Before my love discovers
That she and I are lovers
Imagine how surprised she’s bound to be,
She loves meeeeeeeeeee!

I love her, isn’t that a wonder?
I wonder why I didn’t want her.
I want her, that’s the thing that matters,
And matters are improving daily.

Yesterday I loathed her, bah!
Now today I love her, ah!
And tomorrow, tomorrow…
AAAAAAAAAAAh!

I’m tingling, such delicious tingles,
I’m trembling, what the hell does that mean?
I’m freezing that’s because it’s cold out.
But still I’m incandescent
And like some adolescent
I’d like to scrawl on ev’ry wall I see
She loves me!
She loves meeeeeeeee!

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered”

After one whole quart of brandy
Like a daisy, I’m awake
With no bromo-seltzer handy
I don’t even shake

Men are not a new sensation
I’ve done pretty well I think
But this half-pint imitation
Put me on the blink

I’m wild again, beguiled again
A simpering, whimpering child again
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I

Couldn’t sleep and wouldn’t sleep
When love came and told me I shouldn’t sleep
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I

Lost my heart, but what of it
He is cold I agree
He can laugh, but I love it
Although the laugh’s on me

I’ll sing to him, each spring to him
And long for the day when I’ll cling to him
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I

He’s a fool and don’t I know it
But a fool can have his charms
I’m in love and don’t I show it
Like a babe in arms

Love’s the same old sad sensation
Lately I’ve not slept a wink
Since this half-pint imitation
Put me on the blink

I’ve sinned a lot; I’m mean a lot
But I’m like sweet seventeen a lot
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I

I’ll sing to him, each spring to him
And worship the trousers that cling to him
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I

When he talks, he is seeking
Words to get off his chest
Horizontally speaking, he’s at his very best

Vexed again, perplexed again
Thank God, I can be oversexed again
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I

Wise at last, my eyes at last
Are cutting you down to your size at last
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered no more

Burned a lot, but learned a lot
And now you are broke, so you earned a lot
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered no more

Couldn’t eat, was dyspeptic
Life was so hard to bear
Now my heart’s antiseptic
Since you moved out of there

Romance, finis, your chance, finis
Those ants that invaded my pants, finis
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered no more

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “Blue Moon”

Blue moon you saw me standing alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for
You heard me saying a prayer for
Someone I really could care for
And then there suddenly appeared before me
The only one my arms will ever hold
I heard somebody whisper “Please adore me”
And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold!
Blue moon!
Now I’m no longer alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “Falling in Love with Love”

[ADRIANA]
Falling in love with love is falling for make believe
Falling in love with love is playing the fool;
Caring too much is such a juvenile fancy
Learning to trust is just for children in school

I fell in love with love one night when the moon was full
I was unwise with eyes unable to see
I fell in love with love, with love everlasting
But love fell out with me

[COURTESANS]
Falling in love with love is falling for make believe
Falling in love with love is playing the fool;
Caring too much is such a juvenile fancy
Learning to trust is just for children in school
I fell in love with love one night when the moon was full
I was unwise with eyes unable to see
I fell in love with love, with love everlasting
But love fell out with me

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “Have You Met Miss Jones?”

(Verse)
It happened, I felt it happen
I was awake, I wasn’t blind
I didn’t think I felt it happen
Now I believe in matter over mind
And now you see we mustn’t wait
The nearest moment that we marry is too late

(Chorus)
“Have you met Miss Jones?”
Someone said as we shook hands
She was just Miss Jones to me
And then I said, “Miss Jones
You’re a girl who understands
I’m a man who must be free.”
And all at once I lost my breath
And all at once was scared to death
And all at once I held the earth and sky
Now I’ve met Miss Jones
And we’ll keep on meeting till we die
Miss Jones and I

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “I Didn’t Know What Time It Was”

Once I was young, yesterday, perhaps
Danced with Jim and Paul and kissed some other chaps
Once I was young, but never was naive
I thought I had a trick or two up my imaginary sleeve
And now I know I was naive

I didn’t know what time it was
Then I met you
Oh, what a lovely time it was
How sublime it was too!

I didn’t know what day it was
Then you held my hand
Warm like the month of May it was
And I’ll say it was grand

Grand to be alive, to be young
To be mad, to be yours alone
Grand to see your face, feel your touch
Hear your voice say I’m all your own

I didn’t know what year it was
Life was no prize
I wanted love and here it was
Shining out of your eyes

Once I was old, twenty years or so
Rather well preserved, the wrinkles didn’t show
Once I was old, but not too old for fun
I used to hunt for little girls up my imaginary gun
But now I ain’t for only one

I’m wise and I know what time it is now
I’m wise and I know what time it is now
I’m so wise and I know what time it is now

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “It’s Got to Be Love”

It’s gotta be love
It couldn’t be tonsillitis
It feels like neuritis
But, nevertheless, it’s love

Don’t tell me the pickles
And pie à la mode they served me
Unnerved me
And made my heart a broken-down pump
It couldn’t be love
It isn’t the morning after
That makes every rafter
Go spinning around above

I’m sure that it’s fatal
Why do I get that sinking feeling?
I think that I’m dead
But, nevertheless, it’s only love

It couldn’t be love
Couldn’t be tonsillitis
It feels like neuritis
But, nevertheless, it’s love

Don’t tell me the pickles
Pie à la mode they served me
Unnerved me
And made my heart a broken-down pump
It couldn’t be love
It isn’t the morning after
That makes every rafter
Go spinning around above

I’m sure that it’s fatal
Why do I get that sinking feeling?
I think that I’m dead
But, nevertheless, it’s only love

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “I’ve Got Five Dollars”

I’ve got five dollars,
I’m in good condition,
And I’ve got ambition,
That belongs to you!

Six shirts and collars,
Debts beyond endurance,
All my life insurance,
That belongs to you!

Well I’ve got a heart that must be spurtin’,
Just be certain that I’ll be true!

Take my five dollars,
Take my shirts and collars,
Take my heart that hollers,
‘Cause everything I’ve got belongs to you!

Well I’ve got two lips that care for mating,
Therefore waiting will not do!

Take my five dollars,
Take my shirts and collars,
Take my heart that hollers,
‘Cause everything I got belongs to you!

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World”

The most beautiful girl in the world picks my ties out
Eats my candy, drinks my brandy
The most beautiful girl in the world

The most beautiful star in the world
Isn’t Garbo, isn’t Dietrich but the sweet trick
Who can make me believe it’s a beautiful world

Social? Not a bit
Natural kind of wit
She’d shine anywhere
And she hasn’t got platinum hair

The most beautiful house in the world has a mortgage
What do I care? It’s “Goodbye, care”
When my slippers are next to the ones that belong
To the one and only beautiful girl in the world

Social? Not a bit
Natural kind of wit
She’d shine anywhere
And she hasn’t got platinum hair

The most beautiful house in the world has a mortgage
What do I care? It’s “Goodbye, care”
When my slippers are next to the ones that belong
To the one and only beautiful girl in the world

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “My Funny Valentine”

Behold the way our fine feathered friend
His virtue doth parade
Thou knowest not, my dim-witted friend
The picture thou hast made
Thy vagrant brow, and thy tousled hair
Conceal thy good intent
Thou noble upright truthful sincere
And slightly dopey gent

You’re my funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable, un-photographable
Yet, you’re my favorite work of art

Is your figure less than Greek?
Is your mouth a little weak?
When you open it to speak, are you smart?
But, don’t change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine, stay!
Each day is Valentine’s Day

Is your figure less than Greek?
Is your mouth a little weak?
When you open it to speak, are you smart?
But, don’t change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine, stay!
Each day is Valentine’s Day

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “My Heart Stood Still”

Through all my school days, I hated boys
Those April Fool days brought me loveless joys
I read my Plato, Love, I thought a sin
But since your kiss, I’m reading Missus Glyn!

I took one look at you, that’s all I meant to do
And then my heart stood still
My feet could step and walk, my lips could move and talk
And yet my heart stood still

Though not a single word was spoken, I could tell you knew
That unfelt clasp of hands told me so well you knew
I never lived at all until the thrill of that moment when
My heart stood still

Though not a single word was spoken, I could tell you knew
That unfelt clasp of hands told me so well you knew
I never lived at all until that thrill of that moment when
My heart stood still

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “My Romance”

My romance, doesn’t need to have a moon in the sky
My romance, doesn’t need a blue lagoon standing by
No month of May, no twinkling stars
No hideaway, no soft guitar

My romance doesn’t need a castle rising in Spain
Or a dance to a constantly surprising refrain
All at once I can make my most fantastic dreams come true
My romance, doesn’t need a thing but you

My romance doesn’t need a castle rising in Spain
Or a dance to a constantly surprising refrain
And wide awake, I can make my most fantastic dreams come true
My romance, doesn’t need a thing but you, but you

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “A Ship Without a Sail”

I don’t know what day it is
Or if it’s dark or fair
Somehow, that’s just the way it is
And I don’t really care

I go to this or that place
I seem alive and well
My head is just a hat place
My breast an empty shell
And I’ve a faded dream to sell

All alone, all at sea
Why does nobody care for me?
When there’s no love to hold my love
Why is my heart so frail?
Like a ship without a sail.

Out on the ocean,
Sailors can use a chart
I’m on the ocean
Guided by just a lonely heart

Still alone, still at sea
Still there’s no one to care for me
When there’s no hand to hold my hand
Life is a loveless tale
For a ship without a sail

Still alone, still at sea
Still there’s no one to care for me
When there’s no hand to hold my hand
Life is a loveless tale
For a ship without a sail

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “This Can’t Be Love”

This can’t be love because I feel so well
No sobs, no sorrows, no sighs
This can’t be love I get no dizzy spells
My head is not in the skies

My hearts does not stand still
Just to repeat
This is too sweet to be love
This can’t be love because I feel so well
Yet I long to look into your eyes

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “To Keep My Love Alive”

I’ve been married, and married, and often I’ve sighed
“I’m never a bridesmaid, I’m always a bride”

I never divorced them, I hadn’t the heart
Yet remember these sweet words, “`till death do us part”

I married many men, a ton of them
Because I was untrue to none of them
Because I bumped off every one of them
To keep my love alive

Sir Paul was frail, he looked a wreck to me
At night he was a horse’s neck to me
So I performed an appendectomy
To keep my love alive

Sir Thomas had insomnia, he couldn’t sleep at night
I bought a little arsenic, he’s sleeping now all right

Sir Philip played the harp, I cussed the thing
I crowned him with his harp to bust the thing
And now he plays where harps are just the thing
To keep my love alive
To keep my love alive

(bridge)

I thought Sir George had possibilities
But his flirtations made me ill at ease
And when I’m ill at ease, I kill at ease
To keep my love alive

Sir Charles came from a sanitorium
And yelled for drinks in my emporium
I mixed one drink, he’s in memorium
To keep my love alive

Sir Francis was a singing bird, a nightingale, that’s why
I tossed him off my balcony, to see if he, could fly

Sir Atherton indulged in fratricide,
He killed his dad and that was patricide
One night I stabbed him by my mattress-side
To keep my love alive
To keep my love alive
To keep my love alive

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “Where or When”

It seems we stood and talked like this before
We looked at each other in the same way then
But I can’t remember where or when

The clothes you’re wearing are the clothes you wore
The smile you are smiling you were smiling then
But I can’t remember where or when

Some things that happen for the first time
Seem to be happening again
And so it seems that we have met before
And laughed before
And loved before
But who knows where or when

Lorenz Hart & Richard Rodgers “You Took Advantage of Me”

(Verse)
In the spring, when the feeling was chronic
And my caution was leaving me flat
I should have made use of a tonic
Before you gave me that

A mental deficient you grade me
I’ve given you plenty of data
You came, you saw, you slayed me
And that-a is that-a

(Chorus)
I’m a sentimental sap, that’s all
What’s the use of tryin’ not to fall?
I have no will
You made your kill
‘Cause you took advantage of me

I’m just like an apple on the bough
And you’re gonna shake me down somehow
So what’s the use?
You cooked my goose
‘Cause you took advantage of me

I’m so hot and bothered that I don’t know
My elbow from my ear
Suffer somethin’ awful each time you go
But it’s much worse when you’re near

Here am I with all my bridges burned
Just a babe in arms where you’re concerned
So lock the doors
And call me yours
‘Cause you took advantage of me

Mihri Hatun “At one glance”

At one glance
I loved you
With a thousand hearts

They can hold against me
No sin except my love for you
Come to me
Don’t go away

Let the zealots think
Loving is sinful
Never mind
Let me burn in the hellfire
Of that sin

Robert Heath “Seeing Her Dancing”

Robes loosely flowing, and aspect as free,
A carelesse carriage deckt with modestie;
A smiling look, but yet severe:
Such comely Graces ’bout her were.
Her steps with such an evenness she wove,
As shee could hardly be perceiv’d to move;
Whilst her silk sailes displaied, shee
Swam like a ship with Majestie.
As when with stedfast eies we view the Sun,
We know it goes though see no motion;
So undiscern’d she mov’d, that we
Perceiv’d shee stirr’d, but did not see .

Anthony Hecht “The Gardens of the Villa D’Este”

This is Italian. Here
Is cause for the undiminished bounce
Of sex, cause for the lark, the animal spirit
To rise, aerated, but not beyond our reach, to spread
Friction upon the air, cause to sing loud for the bed
Of jonquils, the linen bed, and established merit
Of love, and grandly to pronounce
Pleasure without peer. […]

Felicia Dorothea Hemans “The Chamois Hunter’s Love”

Thy heart is in the upper world, where fleet the chamois bounds;
Thy heart is where the mountain-fir shakes to the torrent-sounds;
And where the snow-peaks gleam like stars, through the stillness of the air,
And where the Lauwine’s peal is heart – Hunter! thy heart is there!

I know thou lovest me well, dear friend! but better, better far,
Thou lovest that high and haughty life, with rocks and storms at war;
In the green sunny vales with me, thy spirit would but pine,
And yet I will be thine, my love! and yet I will be thine!

And I will not seek to woo thee down from those thy native heights,
With the sweet song, our land’s own song, of pastoral delights;
For thou must live as eagles live, thy path is not as mine,
And yet I will be thine, my love! and yet I will be thine!

And I will leave my blessed home, my father’s joyous hearth,
With all the voices meeting there in tenderness and mirth,
With all the kind and laughing eyes that in its firelight shine,
To sit forsaken in thy hut, yet know that thou art mine!

It is my youth, it is my bloom, it is my glad free heart,
That I cast away for thee – for thee, all reckless as thou art!
With tremblings and with vigils lone, I bind myself to dwell,
Yet, yet I would not change that lot, oh no! I love too well!

A mournful thing is love which grows to one so wild as thou,
With that bright restlessness of eye, that tameless fire of brow.
Mournful! – but dearer far I call its mingled fear and pride,
And the trouble of its happiness, than aught on earth beside.

To listen for thy step in vain, to start at every breath,
To watch through long long nights of storm, to sleep and dream of death,
To wake in doubt and loneliness – this doom I know is mine
And yet I will be thine, my love! and yet I will be thine!

That I may greet thee from thine Alps, when thence thou comest at last,
That I may hear thy thrilling voice tell o’er each danger past,
That I may kneel and pray for thee, and win thee aid divine –
For this I will be thine, my love! for this I will be thine!

Felicia Dorothea Hemans “Properzia Rossi”

Tell me no more, no more
Of my soul’s lofty gifts! Are they not vain
To quench its haunting thirst for happiness?
Have I not lov’d, and striven, and fail’d to bind
One true heart unto me, whereon my own
Might find a resting-place, a home for all
Its burden of affections? I depart,
Unknown, tho’ Fame goes with me; I must leave
The earth unknown. Yet it may be that death
Shall give my name a power to win such tears
As would have made life precious.

I.
ONE dream of passion and of beauty more!
And in its bright fulfillment let me pour
My soul away! Let earth retain a trace
Of that which lit my being, tho’ its race
Might have been loftier far. Yet one more dream!
From my deep spirit one victorious gleam
Ere I depart! For thee alone, for thee!
May this last work, this farewell triumph be,
Thou, lov’d so vainly! I would leave enshrined
Something immortal of my heart and mind,
That yet may speak to thee when I am gone,
Shaking thine inmost bosom with a tone
Of lost affection; something that may prove
What she hath been, whose melancholy love
On thee was lavish’d; silent pang and tear,
And fervent song, that gush’d when none were near,
And dream by night, and weary thought by day,
Stealing the brightness from her life away,
While thou, Awake! not yet within me die,
Under the burden and the agony
Of this vain tenderness my spirit, wake!
Ev’n for thy sorrowful affection’s sake,
Live! in thy work breathe out! that he may yet
Feeling sad mastery there, perchance regret
Thine unrequited gift.

II.
It comes, the power
Within me born, flows back; my fruitless dower
That could not win me love. Yet once again
I greet it proudly, with its rushing train
Of glorious images: they throng they press
A sudden joy lights up my loneliness,
I shall not perish all!
The bright work grows
Beneath my hand, unfolding, as a rose,
Leaf after leaf, to beauty; line by line,
I fix my thought, heart, soul, to burn, to shine,
Thro’ the pale marble’s veins. It grows and now
I give my own life’s history to thy brow,
Forsaken Ariadne! thou shalt wear
My form, my lineaments; but oh! more fair,
Touched into lovelier being by the glow
Which in me dwells, as by the summer-light
All things are glorified. From thee my wo
Shall yet look beautiful to meet his sight,

When I am pass’d away. Thou art the mould,
Wherein I pour the fervent thoughts, th’ untold,
The self-consuming! Speak to him of me,
Thou, the deserted by the lonely sea,
With the soft sadness of thine earnest eye,
Speak to him, lorn one, deeply, mournfully,
Of all my love and grief! Oh! could I throw
Into thy frame a voice, a sweet, and low,
And thrilling voice of song! when he came nigh,
To send the passion of its melody
Thro’ his pierced bosom on its tones to bear
My life’s deep feeling as the southern air
Wafts the faint myrtle’s breath, to rise, to swell,
To sink away in accents of farewell,
Winning but one, one gush of tears, whose flow
Surely my parted spirit yet might know,
If love be strong as death!

III.
Now fair thou art,
Thou form, whose life is of my burning heart!
Yet all the vision that within me wrought,
I cannot make thee! Oh! I might have given
Birth to creations of far nobler thought,
I might have kindled, with the fire of heaven,
Things not of such as die! But I have been
Too much alone; a heart, whereon to lean,
With all these deep affections that o’erflow
My aching soul, and find no shore below,
An eye to be my star; a voice to bring
Hope o’er my path like sounds that breathe of spring,
These are denied me dreamt of still in vain,
Therefore my brief aspirings from the chain,
Are ever but as some wild fitful song,
Rising triumphantly, to die ere long
In dirge-like echoes.

IV.
Yet the world will see
Little of this, my parting work, in thee,
Thou shalt have fame! Oh, mockery! give the reed
From storms a shelter, give the drooping vine
Something round which its tendrils may entwine,
Give the parch’d flower a rain-drop, and the meed
Of love’s kind words to woman! Worthless fame!
That in his bosom wins not for my name
Th’ abiding place it ask’d! Yet how my heart,
In its own fairy world of song and art,
Once beat for praise! Are those high longings o’er?
That which I have been can I be no more?
Never, oh! never more; tho’ still thy sky
Be blue as then, my glorious Italy!
And tho’ the music, whose rich breathings fill
Thine air with soul, be wandering past me still,
And tho’ the mantle of thy sunlight streams
Unchang’d on forms instinct with poet-dreams;

Never, oh! never more! Where’er I move,
The shadow of this broken-hearted love
Is on me and around! Too well they know,
Whose life is all within, too soon and well,
When there the blight hath settled; but I go
Under the silent wings of Peace to dwell;
From the slow wasting, from the lonely pain,
The inward burning of those words ‘in vain’,
Sear’d on the heart I go. ‘Twill soon be past,
Sunshine, and song, and bright Italian heaven,
And thou, oh! thou, on whom my spirit cast
Unvalued wealth, who know’st not what was given
In that devotedness, the sad, and deep,
And unrepaid farewell! If I could weep
Once, only once, belov’d one! on thy breast,
Pouring my heart forth ere I sink to rest!
But that were happiness, and unto me
Earth’s gift is fame. Yet I was form’d to be
So richly bless’d! With thee to watch the sky,
Speaking not, feeling but that thou wert nigh:

With thee to listen, while the tones of song
Swept ev’n as part of our sweet air along,
To listen silently; with thee to gaze
On forms, the deified of olden days,
This had been joy enough; and hour by hour,
From its glad well-springs drinking life and power,
How had my spirit soar’d, and made its fame
A glory for thy brow! Dreams, dreams! the fire
Burns faint within me. Yet I leave my name?
As a deep thrill may linger on the lyre
When its full chords are hush’d?awhile to live,
And one day haply in thy heart revive
Sad thoughts of me: I leave it, with a sound,
A spell o’er memory, mournfully profound;
I leave it, on my country’s air to dwell,
Say proudly yet?’
‘Twas hers who lov’d me well!

Felicia Dorothea Hemans “To a Wandering Female Singer”

Thou hast loved and thou hast suffer’d!
Unto feeling deep and strong,
Thou hast trembled like a harp’s frail string—
I know it by thy song!

Thou hast loved—it may be vainly—
But well—oh! but too well—
Thou hast suffer’d all that woman’s breast
May bear—but must not tell.

Thou hast wept and thou hast parted,
Thou hast been forsaken long,
Thou hast watch’d for steps that came not back—
I know it by thy song!

By the low clear silvery gushing
Of its music from thy breast,
By the quivering of its flute-like swell—
A sound of the heart’s unrest.

By its fond and plaintive lingering,
On each word of grief so long,
Oh! thou hast loved and suffer’d much—
I know it by thy song!

George Herbert “Love (3): “Love bade me welcolme: yet my soul drew back”

Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?

Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.

Zbigniew Herbert “Rosy Ear”

I thought
but I know her so well
we have been living together so many years

I know
her bird-like head
white arms
and belly

until one time
on a winter evening
she sat down beside me
and in the lamplight
falling from behind us
I saw a rosy ear

a comic petal of skin
a conch with living blood
inside it

I didn’t say anything then—

it would be good to write
a poem about a rosy ear
but not so that people would say
what a subject he chose
he’s trying to be eccentric

so that nobody even would smile
so that they would understand that I proclaim
a mystery

I didn’t say anything then
but that night when we were in bed together
delicately I essayed
the exotic taste
of a rosy ear

Robert Herrick “Her Bed”

SEE’ST thou that cloud as silver clear,
Plump, soft, and swelling everywhere?
‘Tis Julia’s bed, and she sleeps there.

Robert Herrick “To Anthea, Who May Command Him Anything”

Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy protestant to be;
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free,
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I’ll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
To honour thy decree;
Or bid it languish quite away,
And ‘t shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see;
And having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despair, and I’ll despair,
Under that cypress tree;
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E’en death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me;
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.

Robert Herrick “To Dianeme”

Show me thy feet; show me thy legs, thy thighs;
Show me those fleshy principalities;
Show me that hill where smiling love doth sit.
Having a living fountain under it;
Show me thy waist, then let me therewithal,
By the assention of thy lawn, see all.

Robert Herrick “Upon Julia’s Breasts”

Display thy breasts, my Julia, there let me
Behold that circummortal purity;
Between whose glories, there my lips I’ll lay,
Ravished in that fair Via Lactea.

Robert Herrick “Upon Julia’s Clothes”

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes, and see
That brave vibration each way free,
O how that glittering taketh me!

Robert Herrick “The Vine”

I dreamed this mortal part of mine
Was metamorphosed to a vine,
Which crawling one and every way
Enthralled my dainty Lucia.
Methought her long small legs and thighs
I with my tendrils did surprise;
Her belly, buttocks, and her waist
By my soft nervelets were embraced.
About her head I writhing hung,
And with rich clusters (hid among
The leaves) her temples I behung,
So that my Lucia seemed to me
Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.
My curls about her neck did crawl,
And arms and hands they did enthrall,
So that she could not freely stir
(All parts there made one prisoner).
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts which maids keep unespied,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took
That with the fancy I awoke;
And found (ah me!) this flesh of mine
More like a stock than like a vine.

Phoebe Hesketh “Love’s Advocate”

I remember sitting together in parks
leaning over bridges
counting trout and swans
holding hands under arches
kissing away suns
and moons into darkness.

I remember platform good-byes
last-minute trains
slamming us apart
and my non-self walking back alone.
I remember smaller things:
a pebble in my shoe
and you throwing a match-box on the Serpentine.

I stood still hearing the years
flow over and over
as over a stone
in a river-bed
polishing, cleaning, wearing away.
But I still remember the last day.

What I cannot remember is how I felt-
mind, love’s advocate,
must remind heart
of the end, the abyss.
The bottom of the world remains;
each day climbs to a new start.

Eddie Heyman & Oscar Levant “Blame It on My Youth”

If I expected love when first we kissed,
Blame it on my youth.
If only for you I did exist,
Blame it on my youth.

I believed in everything,
Like a child of three;
You meant more than anything,
All the world to me!

If you were on my mind all night and day,
Blame it on my youth.
If I forgot to eat and sleep and pray,
Blame it on my youth.

If I cried a little bit
When first I learned the truth,
Don’t blame it on my heart,
Blame it on my youth.

If I cried a little bit
When first I learned the truth,
Don’t blame it on my heart,
Blame it on my youth.

Edward Heyman & Johnny Green “Easy Come, Easy Go”

Easy come, easy go, that’s the way,
If love must have it’s day, then
As it came, let it go.

No, no remorse, no regrets
We should part exactly as we met
Just easy come, easy go.

We never dreamt of romantic dangers
But now that it ends, let’s be friends
And not two strangers

Easy come, easy go, here we are,
So darling au revoir
It’s easy come, easy go.

Edward Heyman & Dana Suesse “Ho Hum”

Good-bye to winter
I’ll see you next year
Hello to Springtime
Gee, I am glad your here.

Listen you fliver
Get yourself outside
Come on my sweetheart
Take me for a ride.

Ho hum, spring is here now
Ho hum, skies are very clear now
Ho hum, love is near now
For you and me.

Ho hum, April showers
Ho hum, lots of pretty flowers
Ho hum, happy hours
For you and me.

All the world is sweet once again
Heaven’s at my feet once again.
Ho hum, lazy weather
Ho hum, feelin’ like a feather
Ho hum, we’re together
And so, ho hum.

Serenading, ocean wading, orangeade-ing
Ho hum
Street musicians, great ambitions, good conditions
Ho hum.

(bridge)

Chocolate bar, milk from dairies
Motorcars drawin’ huckleberries
Twinkling stars, John’s and Mary’s
Strolling up and down the park.

In the sky, moonlight hovers
On the bed, soft and downy covers
On the street, lots of lovers
Findin’ places nice and dark.

There’s one thing on which we agree
Spring is very young, so are we.

Ooh, ooh, frogs are groaning
Mandolins are moaning
Oooh, microphoning
From me to you
Oh, dear.

Edward Heyman, Billy Rose, & Johnny Green “I Wanna Be Loved”

I want to be loved with inspiration
I want to be loved starting tonight
Instead of merely holding conversation
Hold me tight

I want to be kissed until I tingle
I want to be kissed starting tonight
Embrace until our heartbeats intermingle
Wrong or right

I feel like acting my age
I’m past the stage of merely turtledoving
(Be careful, be careful what you do)
I’m in no mood to resist
And I insist the world owes me a loving

I want to be thrilled to desperation
I want to be thrilled starting tonight
(Love me, love me, love me)
With every kind of wonderful sensation
I want to be loved

I feel like acting my age
I’m past the stage of merely turtledoving
I’m in no mood to resist
And I insist the world owes me a loving

I want to be thrilled to desperation
I want to be thrilled starting tonight
With every kind of wonderful sensation
I want to be loved

Edward Heyman & Victor Young “When I Fall in Love”

When I fall in love
It will be forever
Or I’ll never fall in love
In a restless world like this is
Love is ended before it’s begun
And too many moon light kisses
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun
When I give my heart
It will be completely
Or I’ll never give my heart
And the moment
I can feel that
You feel that way too
Is when I fall in love with you
And the moment
I can feel that
You feel that way too
Is when I fall in love with you

Edward Heyman & John W. Green “You’re Mine, You!”

You’re mine you;
You belong to me you,
I will never free you,
You’re here with me to stay!

You’re mine you;
You are mine completely,
Love me strong or sweetly,
I need you night and day!

Arm in arm, hand in hand,
We will be found together.
Heart to heart, lips to lips,
We’re chained and bound together.

I own you;
I don’t need to buy love,
You’re a slave to my love,
In every way you’re mine!

Arm in arm, hand in hand,
We will be found together.
Heart to heart, lips to lips,
We’re chained and bound together.

I own you;
I don’t need to buy love,
You’re a slave to my love,
In every way you’re mine,
You’re mine,
In every way you’re mine!

Hilarius “To an English Boy”

Puer decens, decens floris, Genma micans, velim noris Quia tui decus oris Fuit mihi fax amoris. Ut te vidi, ınos cupido Me percussit; sed diffido; Nam me tenet mea Dido Cujus iram reformido. O Quam felix ego forem, Si per novum suscessorem, Asuetum juxta morem, Declinarem hunc amorem. Inpetrabo, sicut credo; Nam in predam tibi cedo. Ego preda tuque predo: Me predoni tali dedo. Nam et rector superorum, Ractor olim puerorum, Si nunc esset, tam decorum Ad celeste ferret torum. Aula tandem in superna, Satis prontus ad alterna, Nunc in toro, nunc pincerna, Jovi fores gratus una.

That the loveliness of your face Was the torch of my love. The moment I saw you, Cupid struck me; but I hesitate, For my Dido holds me, And I fear her wrath. [14] Oh, how happy would I be If for a new favorite I could abandon this love[15] In the ordinary way. I will win, as I believe, For I will yield to you in the hunt: I am the hunted, you are the hunter, And I yield to any hunter like you. Even the ruler of heaven, Once the ravisher of boys, If he were here now would carry off Such beauty to his heavenly bower. Then, in the chambers of heaven, You would be equally ready for either task: Sometimes in bed, other times as cupbearer – And Jove’s delight as both.

Billy Hill “The Glory of Love”

You’ve got to give a little,
Take a little,
Let your poor heart break a little.
That’s the story of,
That’s the glory of love.

You’ve got to laugh a little,
Cry a little,
Let the clouds roll by a little.
That’s the story of,
That’s the glory of love.

As long as there’s the two of us,
We’ve got the world and all it’s charms.
And when the world is through with us,
We’ve got each other’s arms.

You’ve got to win a little,
Lose a little,
Oh, have the blues a little.
That’s the story of,
That’s the glory of love.

Selima Hill “Don’t Let’s Talk about Being in Love”

Don’t let’s talk about being in love, OK?

• about me being in love, in fact, OK?
  about your bloated face, like a magnolia;
  about marsupials,
  whose little blunted pouches
  I’d like to crawl inside, lips first;
  about the crashing of a million waterfalls
• as if LOVE were a dome of glass beneath a lake
  entered through a maze of dripping tunnels
  I hoped and prayed I’d never be found inside.

At night I dream that your bedroom’s crammed with ducks.
You smell of mashed-up meal and scrambled egg.
Some of the ducks are broody, and won’t stand up.
And I dream of the fingers of your various wives
reaching into your private parts like beaks.
And you’re lying across the bed like a man shouldn’t be.
And I’m startled awake by the sound of creaking glass
as if the whole affair’s about to collapse
and water come pouring in with a rush of fishes
going slurpetty-slurpetty-slurp with their low-slung mouths

Jane Hirshfield “Painting”

His hand has covered her breast. In other paintings, we have watched her prepare for him, behind the screen of a bedcloth held up by her friends. She is putting red dye on her nipples and the bottoms of her feet, while he looks down from an upstairs window, smiling. His body is blue, his flute’s notes possess a god’s effortless irresistibility. But here it is different. […]

James Hogg “When Maggy Gangs Away”

OH, what will a’ the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
Oh, what will a’ the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
There’s no a heart in a’ the glen 5
That disna dread the day:
Oh, what will a’ the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?

Young Jock has ta’en the hill for’t,
A waefu’ wight is he; 10
Poor Harry’s ta’en the bed for’t,
An’ laid him down to dee;
An’ Sandy’s gane unto the kirk,
An’ learnin’ fast to pray:
An’ oh, what will the lads do 15
When Maggy gangs away?

The young laird o’ the Lang-Shaw
Has drunk her health in wine;
The priest has said—in confidence—
The lassie was divine, 20
An’ that is mair in maiden’s praise
Than ony priest should say:
But oh, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?

The wailing in our green glen 25
That day will quaver high;
’Twill draw the redbreast frae the wood,
The laverock frae the sky;
The fairies frae their beds o’ dew
Will rise an’ join the lay: 30
An’ hey! what a day ’twill be
When Maggy gangs away!

Mann Holiner, Alberta Nichols, & Sammy Cahn “Until the Real Thing Comes”

I’d work for you, I’d even slave for you
I’d be a beggar or a knave for you (whatever that is)
And if that isn’t love, it’ll have to do
Until the real thing comes along

I’d gladly move the earth for you
To prove my love, dear, and it’s worth for you
If that isn’t love, it will have to do (gotta do)
Until the real thing comes along

With all the words, dear, at my command
I just can’t make you understand
I’ll always love you, darling, come what may
My heart is yours, what more can I say?
(You want me to rob a bank? Well I won’t do it)

I’d sigh for you, yes, I’d even cry for you, yes
I’d tear the stars down from the skies for you
If that isn’t love, well skip it, it’ll have to do
Until the real thing comes along

Mann Holiner & Alberta Nichol “Why Shouldn’t It Happen to Us?”

Never argue with your heart, it isn’t smart, it isn’t sound
Love don’t know from season, logic, rhyme or reason
Love can be found in every port
Love gets around, in short
It has happened to a cricket in a thicket
It has happened on a streetcar and a bus
There has even been a rumor it has happened to a puma
Why shouldn’t it happen to us?
It has happened to the mamma of a lama
To a pelican and to an octopus
Since it happened to the swordfish, it no longer is a board fish
Why shouldn’t it happen to us?
It’s elusive, profusive, nobody has an exclusive
On love, man, beast or a dove
Take the regal old eagle, the porcupine and the beagle
Yes the kangaroo,all pitch woo
It has happened to a tuna at laguna
To a girl named myrtle and a guy named gus
Hiawatha said: Come to me, by the shores of gitchee goomee
Why shouldn’t it happen to us?
Oh the busy little hornet doesn’t scorn it
To ignore it really is ridiculous
It’s a ritual in turkey, martinique and albuquerque
Why shouldn’t it happen to us?
There’s no ration on passion, l’amour is always in fashion
It wings beggars and kings
Take the cheetah, ant-eater, the halibut and the mosquito
Yes, and billy-goats feel their oats
Oh it thrills the tiny sparrow to its marrow
And the armadillo deems it super-plus
Why our ancient barnyard rooster finds it quite a morale booster
Why shouldn’t it happen to us?
I had even heard a reindeer whisper: Please, say that again, dear
Why, oh why, shouldn’t it happen to us?

Mann Holiner & Alberta Nichols “You Can’t Stop Me from Lovin’ You”

You can throw bricks at my window.
You can put tacks in my shoe.
You can sprinkle ground glass on my applesass,
But you can’t stop me from lovin’ you.

You can put rocks in my pillow.
You can put sand in my stew.
You can be as aloof as the Chrysler roof,
But you can’t stop me from lovin’ you.

You can sneer at my devotion,
Be as mean as you can be,
Ridicule my great emotion,
But you’re never gonna discourage me.

You can put Lux in my corn flakes,
Tell me my brain’s good as new.
You can laugh in my face when you trump my ace,
But you can’t stop me from lovin’ you.

You can put Flit in my gargle,
Seal up your pockets with glue.
You can even throw fleas on my Pekingese,
But you can’t stop me from lovin’ you.

You can go tell Walter Winchell
Ev’ry darn thing that I do.
You can tear me to rags just to give him gags,
But you can’t stop me from lovin’ you.

You can cut up my umbrella,
Even put a thistle where I sit.
You can make me take vanilla
When you know I’m crazy ’bout chocolit.

You can wear socks without garters,
Carry lace handkerchiefs too.
You can smell of Chanel on your coat lapel,
But you can’t stop me from lovin’ you.

[Scat verse]

You can start in to cough as I’m teein’ off,
But you can’t stop me from lovin’ you.

Hongnang “I send you, my love”

I send you, my love,
select branches of the willow.
Plant them to be admired
outside your bedroom window.
If a night rain makes them bud,
think that it is I.

A. D. Hope “A Blason”

My foundling, my fondling, my frolic first-footer,
My circler, my sidler, shy-sayer yes-and-no,
Live-levin, light-looker, darter and doubter,
Pause of perhaps in my turvey of touch-and-go;

My music, my mandrake, merrythought to my marrow-bone,
Tropic to my true-pole and ripe to my rich,
Wonderer, wanderer, walker-in-wood-alone,
Eye-asker, acher, angel-with-an-itch;

My tittup, my tansy, tease-tuft in tumble-toil,
My frisker, my fettler, trickster and trier,
Knick-knacker, knee-knocker, cleaver in kindle-coil,
My handler, my honeysuckler, phoenix-on-fire;

My cunny, my cracker-jack, my cantrip, my kissing-crust,
Rock-rump and wring-rib in wrestle of randy-bout,
Lithe-lier, limber-leg, column of counter-thrust,
My heave-horn, my hyphener, dew-dealer in-and-out;

My, ah, my rough-rider now; my, oh, my deep-driver,
Burly-bags, bramble-ball, brace-belly, bruise-bud,
Shuttle-cock, slow-shagger, sweet-slugger, swift-swiver,
My, yes now and yes now—rip, river and flood!

My breacher, my broacher, my burst-boy, my bubblyjock,
My soberer, slacken-soon, numb-nub and narrower,
My wrinkler, my rumplet, prim-purse of poppycock,
Slither-slot, shrivel-shaft, shrinker and sorrower;

My soft-sigher, snuggle-snake, sleeper and slaker,
My dandler, my deft-dear, dreamer of double-deal,
And, oh, my wry-writher, my worker and waker,
Stirrer and stander now, fledge to my feel;

My prodigy, prodigal, palindrome of pleasure,
Rise-ripe and rive-rose, rod of replevin,
Now furrow my fallow, now trench to my treasure,
Harvester, harbinger, harrow my heaven.

Horace “Ode 4.7”

Diffugere nives, redeunt iam gramina campis arboribusque comae; mutat terra vices et decrescentia ripas flumina praetereunt; Gratia cum Nymphis geminisque sororibus audet ducere nuda choros. immortalia ne speres, monet annus et almum quae rapit hora diem. frigora mitescunt zephyris, ver proterit aestas interitura simul pomifer autumnus fruges effuderit, et mox bruma recurrit iners. damna tamen celeres reparant caelestia lunae; nos ubi decidimus, quo pius Aeneas, quo Tullus dives et Ancus, pulvis et umbra sumus. quis scit an adiciant hodiernae crastina summae tempora di superi? cuncta manus avidas fugient heredis, amico quae dederis animo. cum semel occideris et de te splendida Minos fecerit arbitria, non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia, non te restituet pietas; infernis neque enim tenebris Diana pudicum liberat Hippolytum, nec Lethaea valet Theseus abrumpere caro vincula Pirithoo.

The snows scatter; now grasses return to the fields, the leaves to trees. By turns the earth changes; in shrunken banks the rivers flow by. In gratitude Nymphs and twin sisters dare, nude, to lead the chorus. Immortality you may not hope for, advises the nurturing year, that drags off hours from the day. Cold is ameliorated by West Winds, spring treads on summer. They will perish at the same time crops poured out by fruit-bearing autumn, and soon winter returns inert. Yet the heavenly moon quickly and repeatedly repairs. With us descend what blessed Aeneas, what rich Tullus and Ancus, dust and shades we are. Who know if they add today’s tomorrows to the sum of time from the high gods? Avoid the fleeting greedy hand of the heir, make friendly to oneself whatever the spirit bestows. Once you have perished, the splendid Minos will fashion judgement. nor, Torquatus, your birth, your eloquence, your piety makes restitution. Not from hell nor indeed night Diana the pure Hippolytus frees, nor Theseus break Lethe’s strong chains of dear Pirithous

Horace “An Old Malediction” tr. Anthony Evan Hecht

What well-heeled knuckle-head, straight from the unisex
Hairstylist and bathed in “Russian Leather,”
Dallies with you these late summer days, Pyrrha,
In your expensive sublet? For whom do you
Slip into something simple by, say, Gucci?
The more fool he who has mapped out for himself
The saline latitudes of incontinent grief.
Dazzled though he be, poor dope, by the golden looks
Your locks fetched up out of a bottle of Clairol,
He will know that the wind changes, the smooth sailing
Is done for, when the breakers wallop him broadside,
When he’s rudderless, dismasted, thoroughly swamped
In that mindless rip-tide that got the best of me
Once, when I ventured on your deeps, Piranha.

George Moses Horton “Early Affection”

I lov’d thee from the earliest dawn,
When first I saw thy beauty’s ray,
And will, until life’s eve comes on,
And beauty’s blossom fades away;
And when all things go well with thee,
With smiles and tears remember me.
I’ll love thee when thy morn is past,
And wheedling gallantry is o’er,
When youth is lost in age’s blast,
And beauty can ascend no more,
And when life’s journey ends with thee,
O, then look back and think of me.
I’ll love thee with a smile or frown,
’Mid sorrow’s gloom or pleasure’s light,
And when the chain of life runs down,
Pursue thy last eternal flight,
When thou hast spread thy wing to flee,
Still, still, a moment wait for me.
I’ll love thee for those sparkling eyes,
To which my fondness was betray’d,
Bearing the tincture of the skies,
To glow when other beauties fade,
And when they sink too low to see,
Reflect an azure beam on me.

A. E. Housman “Because I liked you better”

Because I liked you better
Than suits a man to say,
It irked you, and I promised
To throw the thought away.

To put the world between us
We parted, stiff and dry;
‘Good-bye,’ said you, ‘forget me.’
‘I will, no fear’, said I.

If here, where clover whitens
The dead man’s knoll, you pass,
And no tall flower to meet you
Starts in the trefoiled grass,

Halt by the headstone naming
The heart no longer stirred,
And say the lad that loved you
Was one that kept his word.

A. E. Housman “He would not stay for me; and who can wonder?”

He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?
He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.
I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,
And went with half my life about my ways.

A. E. Housman “If truth in hearts that perish”

IF truth in hearts that perish
Could move the powers on high,
I think the love I bear you
Should make you not to die.

Sure, sure, if stedfast meaning, 5
If single thought could save,
The world might end to-morrow,
You should not see the grave.

This long and sure-set liking,
This boundless will to please, 10
—Oh, you should live for ever
If there were help in these.

But now, since all is idle,
To this lost heart be kind,
Ere to a town you journey 15
Where friends are ill to find.

A. E. Housman “Look not in my eyes, for fear”

LOOK not in my eyes, for fear
Thy mirror true the sight I see,
And there you find your face too clear
And love it and be lost like me.
One the long nights through must lie 5
Spent in star-defeated sighs,
But why should you as well as I
Perish? gaze not in my eyes.

A Grecian lad, as I hear tell,
One that many loved in vain, 10
Looked into a forest well
And never looked away again.
There, when the turf in springtime flowers,
With downward eye and gazes sad,
Stands amid the glancing showers 15
A jonquil, not a Grecian lad.

A. E. Housman “Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all’s over”

Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all’s over;

I only vex you the more I try.
All’s wrong that ever I’ve done or said,
And nought to help it in this dull head:
Shake hands, here’s luck, good-bye.

But if you come to a road where danger
Or guilt or anguish or shame’s to share,
Be good to the lad that loves you true
And the soul that was born to die for you,
And whistle and I’ll be there.

A. E. Housman “When I was one-and-twenty”

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
“Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.”
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
“The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
’Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.”
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.

Bart Howard “Fly Me to the Moon (In Other Words)”

Fly me to the Moon
Let me swing among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me

Fill my heart with song
And let me sing for evermore
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please, be true
In other words, I love you

Why don’t you fill my heart with song?
Let me sing for evermore
Because you are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please, be true
In other words, in other words
I love you

Bart Howard “Who Besides You” (lyrics)

When you hear me say ‘darling’ or ‘dear’
to another man
or see me blow another man a kiss
I don’t know what you can do dear
other than
darling ask yourself this

Who besides you
could I see beside me
all alone on a tropical Isle
And who could I see
besides you, beside me
When I dream with my lips in a smile
And where besides here in these arms of yours
Am I nearer to heaven above

But why take the time
To ask the questions in rhyme
When there’s you beside me to love?
But why take the time
To ask questions in rhyme
When there’s you beside me beside you
beside me beside you beside me
to love?

Bart Howard “Would You Believe It?” (lyrics)

VERSE
I bought a great big hat
With a bright red feather and a bow.
I sold my stocks, bought some
mink-dyed fox,
And I’m riding high instead of hiding low.
But I remember the way I used to be,
Kind of huffy, plain stuffy, all the day?
Never used any kind of cologne
When I hadn’t a man of my own.
Today you can smell my Chanel a
mile away.

REFRAIN
Would you believe it,
After all that I said
About romance not bothering me?
Would you believe it,
Used to have a level head,
Now I’m now in love as love can be?
I was immune
To June,
I never ventured out in the park,
No butterfly
Was I.
Now get me, I’m gay as a lark.
I’m really giddy.
Why to tell you the truth,
I’m like a bird let out of a cage,
A chickabiddy
Who mixes gin and vermouth,
Might even try my luck on the stage.
I used to sing
About birdies in the Spring,
Then love gave me a twirl,
Would you believe it,
Now I’m a real gone girl.

Bart Howard “Year After Year”

Here we stand on the brink of tomorrow
Too helplessley happy to think of
tomorrow,
But as long you’re looking at me,
Oh, what a joy my tomorrows would be!
Let my love be the love you remember,
Let my heart be the heart you’ll keep,
Let my face be the face you’ll dream of
Every time you smile in your sleep.
Let my lips be the lips you long for
And my song be the song you sing,
Let my love be the love you’ll remember
Spring after Spring after Spring.
Let my arms be the arms you are seeking
When the dawn is creeping near,
Let my love be the love you’ll remember
Year after year after year.

Fanny Howe “Once on a summer night”

Once on a summer night
in a humid tunnel

sex was scheduled

but no baby faces
looking up the time

pure lust
like a tulip

budding between our chests

–and it was fun!
–and I would do it again!

David Huerta “Trece intenciones contra el amor trivial” “Thirteen Attempts on the Life of Trivial Love” tr. Jamie McKendrick

Si la palabra es el principio de la acción, liberemos la palabra de la esclavitud doméstica rellenándola de cáncer, del virus más venenoso e incurable, y lancémosla al cuerpo del amor trivial. LLUÍS FERNÁNDEZ, El anarquista desnudo 1. Razones viudas por las que “sucede que me canso de ser hombre”, líquido desflecado y fértil de la mujer que no soy; líquido terso, cristalino, que sale de los senos que no tengo. 2. Enigmas, siempre, del coito conmigo mismo: uróboro, Anillo de Moebius. Evidencias de una manada, de una multitud que se difunde dentro de mí -circula, quiere algo: ama, se ama. 3. Hay mujeres, mal sueño mío, muertas en mí -arrojadas como cabelleras. 4. En mis fotografías de niño estoy indiferenciado, un amasijo de palpitante energía carnal, sin sonrisa, sin miedo, sin neurosis. 5. Misterios de mis labios bajo el bigote imperioso y solipsista, hirsuto paisaje de los caracteres secundarios. 6. Tacto y sudor, míos, de hombre, a veces, sobre una carne en penumbra deleitada, carne desconocida, sedienta; carne imborrable, con un corazón afilado y leve, y otros latidos milenarios, caudalosa carne abrazada a mí, a mis ficciones concretas de persona, mi yo turbio. 7. Una sequía nos divide, mi vertebral llamarada y tus ansiosas vértebras lo saben interminablemente. 8. ¡Ah!, instantáneos abismos de mi apetito, la mayoría de edad y sus frustrados paraísos, los jardines parásitos del hambre individualista que va sintiendo el cráneo macho, secamente, resplandeciendo por lo bajo y con los dientes apretados. 9. Falo y esperma, grandes símbolos y minuciosos abalorios del amor trivial -losa diamantina en mis lomos adultos. 10. Pero quién quiere culpas, por lo demás: pedazos muertos del falo-gimnoto, pedazos muertos de la vulva-caverna: Culpas. 11. No quiero culpas prendidas, como millar de escapularios, en el envés de mi falda de hombre. 12. Doy mi palabra de hombre y cuánto pesa, circula austera, devuelve un aroma musculado y gentil, de cedo-el-paso, de ir por el lado de afuera en la banqueta, de extender una mano -sólo tendones, venas. 13. Mis palabras quisieran restañar esa herida: la mordedura del amor trivial. Amor, amor, detén tu planta impura. VICENTE ALEIXANDRE

If the word is the basis for action, let’s deliver the word from its domestic servitude, infecting it with cancer, with the most venomous and incurable virus, and hurl it at the body of trivial love. LLUÍS FERNÁNDEZ, The Naked Anarchist 1. Widowed reasons why ‘it happens that I’m tired of being a man’, torn fertile liquid of the woman I’m not; clear liquid overflowing from the breasts I don’t possess. 2. Always the enigmas of coitus conducted with myself: uroboros, Möbius strip. Evidence left by a handful, a mob that spreads within me -circulates, wants something: loves, loves itself. 3. There are women, nightmares of mine, dead inside me – discarded like scalps. 4. In the photographs of me as a child I pale into the background, a tangle of trembling carnal energy, without smiles, without fear, without neurosis. 5. Mysteries of my lips under that imperious solipsistic moustache, the hirsute landscape of minor characters. 6. The sense of touch, sweat, my own, a man’s, at times, over flesh in joyous half-light, unknown, thirsting flesh; unforgettable flesh with a heart sharpened and made buoyant and other ancient heartbeats, generous flesh cleaving to me, to my embodied fictions of someone else, of my own shady self. 7. A drought divides us, both the flame of my spine and your fiery vertebrae know it forever. 8. Ah! Sudden chasms opening in my appetite: coming of age and its frustrated heavens, the gardens of such predatory hunger, that the male skull, dramatically underlit, senses with gritted teeth. 9. Phallus and sperm, towering symbols and meticulous trinkets of trivial love – adamantine tombstone in my adult loins. 10. And yet who wants this guilt anyway: dead fragments of the gimno-phallus, of the vulva-cave: Guilt. 11. I don’t want these rooted guilts, like countless devotional scapulars hung inside, the wrong side, of my manly robe. 12. I give my man’s word – how much it weighs, severely circulates, distilling the gentle, muscular scent of giving way, of stepping out to the pavement’s edge, of stretching forth a hand – merely tendons, veins. 13. My words would like to heal this wound: bitten deep by trivial love. Love, love, stay your impure stride. VICENTE ALEIXANDRE

Langston Hughes “Juke Box Love Song”

I could take the Harlem night
and wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue buses,
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem’s heartbeat,
Make a drumbeat,
Put it on a record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day—
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl.

Langston Hughes “Lament over Love”

I hope my child’ll
Never love a man.
I say I hope my child’ll
Never love a man.
Love can hurt you
Mo’n anything else can.

I’m goin’ down to the river
An’ I ain’t goin’ there to swim;
Down to the river,
Ain’t goin’ there to swim.
My true love’s left me
And I’m goin’ there to think about him.

Love is like whiskey,
Love is like red, red wine.
Love is like whiskey,
Love is sweet red wine.
If you want to be happy
You got to love all the time.

I’m goin’ up in a tower
Tall as a tree is tall,
Up in a tower
Tall as a tree is tall.
Gonna think about my man—
And let my fool-self fall.

Langston Hughes “Lover’s Return”

My old time daddy
Came back home last night.
His face was pale and
His eyes didn’t look just right.

He says, “Mary, I’m
Comin’ home to you
So sick and lonesome
I don’t know what to do.”

Oh, men treats women
Just like a pair o’ shoes
You kicks ‘em round and
Does ‘em like you choose.

I looked at my daddy
Lawd! And I wanted to cry.
He looked so thin

Lawd! And I wanted to cry.
But the devil told me:
Damn a lover
Come home to die!

Ted Hughes “Bride and Groom Lie Hidden for Three Days”

She gives him his eyes, she found them
Among some rubble, among some beetles

He gives her her skin
He just seemed to pull it down out of the air and lay it over her
She weeps with fearfulness and astonishment

She has found his hands for him, and fitted them freshly at the wrists
They are amazed at themselves, they go feeling all over her

He has assembled her spine, he cleaned each piece carefully
And sets them in perfect order
A superhuman puzzle but he is inspired
She leans back twisting this way and that, using it and laughing
Incredulous

Now she has brought his feet, she is connecting them
So that his whole body lights up

And he has fashioned her new hips
With all fittings complete and with newly wound coils, all shiningly oiled
He is polishing every part, he himself can hardly believe it

They keep taking each other to the sun, they find they can easily
To test each new thing at each new step

And now she smoothes over him the plates of his skull
So that the joints are invisible

And now he connects her throat, her breasts and the pit of her stomach
With a single wire

She gives him his teeth, tying the the roots to the centrepin of his body

He sets the little circlets on her fingertips

She stiches his body here and there with steely purple silk

He oils the delicate cogs of her mouth

She inlays with deep cut scrolls the nape of his neck

He sinks into place the inside of her thighs

So, gasping with joy, with cries of wonderment
Like two gods of mud
Sprawling in the dirt, but with infinite care
They bring each other to perfection.

Hung Hung “Helas!” tr. Steve Bradbury

My earlobe in your mouth, my lips and tongue on your breasts, my palms pressed against your armpits, my penis in some deep and unplumbed placed inside you. And, something I had never seen before, myself, as seen from behind, receding in the tableau of your eyes. […]

Herman Hupfeld “As Time Goes By”

You must remember this, a kiss is still a kiss.
A sigh is just a sigh;

The fundamental things apply,
As time goes by.

And when two lovers woo, they still say I love you,
On that you can rely;

No matter what the future brings
As time goes by

Moonlight and love songs never out of date,
Hearts full of passion jealousy and hate,

Woman needs man, and man must have his mate,
That no one can deny.
It’s still the same old story, a fight for love and glory,
A case of do or die,
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by.
(end)

Hwang Chini “Blue mountains speak of my desire” tr. Peter H. Lee

Blue mountains speak of my desire,
green waters reflect my lover’s love:
Green waters may flow away,
but can blue mountains change?
Green waters too cannot forget blue mountains,
They wander through in tears.

Ibycus “In Spring”

ἦρι μὲν αἵ τε Κυδώνιαι …..μηλίδες ἀρδόμεναι ῥοᾶν …..ἐκ ποταμῶν, ἵνα Παρθένων …..κῆπος ἀκήρατος, αἵ τ᾿ οἰνανθίδες αὐξόμεναι σκιεροῖσιν ὑφ᾿ ἕρνεσιν …..οἰναρέοις θαλέθοισιν· ἐμοὶ δ᾿ ἔρος …..…..οὐδεμίαν κατάκοιτος ὥραν· …..ἀλλ᾿ ἅθ᾿ ὑπὸ στεροπᾶς φλέγων …..Θρηίκιος Βορέας ἀίσσων παρὰ Κύπριδος ἀζαλέαις μανίαισιν …..ἐρεμνὸς ἀθαμβὴς …..…..ἐγκρατέως πεδόθεν †φυλάσσει† …..ἡμετέρας φρένας.

íri mén aí te Kydóniai …..milídes ardómenai roán …..ek potamón, ína Parthénon …..kípos akíratos, aí t᾿ oinanthídes afxómenai skieroísin yf᾿ érnesin …..oinaréois thaléthoisin: emoí d᾿ éros …..…..oudemían katákoitos óran: …..all᾿ áth᾿ ypó steropás flégon …..Thriíkios Voréas aísson pará Kýpridos azaléais maníaisin …..eremnós athamvís …..…..enkratéos pedóthen †fylássei† …..imetéras frénas.

In spring, the Cretan quinces grow …..flowering by the streams that flow …..irriguous where the virginal …..gardens of the Maidens are, and all the vines increase and twine their shade above the blossoms on the grapes. But for me love …..never at any season sleeps– …..like Thracian Boreas, when he sweeps …..crackling with lightning and wild fire from the Cyprian in fits of mad desire, …..and scorching, murky, shameless, shoots …..and shudders my heart at the very roots.

David Ignatow “Each Day”

Cynthia Matz, with my finger in your cunt
and you sliding back and forth on it,
protesting at the late hour and tiredness
and me with kidneys straining to capacity
with piss I had no chance to release
all night, we got up from the park bench
and walked you home. I left you
at the door, you said something
dispiriting about taking a chance
and settling on me. I had left Janette
to chase after you running out
of the ice cream parlor where the three
of us had sat—I had felt so sorry
and so guilty to have had you find me
with her in the street. You and I
had gone to shows together,
you needed me to talk to and I was glad.
The talk always was about him
Whom you still loved and he had jilted
you for someone else. I’m sorry, Cynthia,
that it had to end this way between us too.
I did not return the next day,
after leaving you at the door.
I did not return the following day either.
I went with Janette in whom I felt nothing
standing in the way, while with you
it would have been each day
to listen to your sadness
at having been betrayed by him.
I was not to be trusted either.
I too wanted love pure and simple.

Im Che “A Woman’s Sorrow” tr. Peter H. Lee

A beautiful girl, fifteen years old,
Too shy to speak, sends her lover away.
Back home, she shuts the double gate
And sobs before the pear blossoms.

Izumi Shikibu “If you love me” tr. Willis Barnstone

If you love me,
come. The road
I live on
is not forbidden
by impetuous gods.

Antonio Jacinto “Letter from a Contract Worker”

Eu queria escrever-te uma carta amor, uma carta que dissesse deste anseio de te ver deste receio de te perder deste mais bem querer que sinto deste mal indefinido que me persegue desta saudade a que vivo todo entregue… Eu queria escrever-te uma carta amor, uma carta de confidências íntimas, uma carta de lembranças de ti, de ti dos teus lábios vermelhos como tacula dos teus cabelos negros como dilôa dos teus olhos doces como maboque do teu andar de onça e dos teus carinhos que maiores não encontrei por aí… Eu queria escrever-te uma carta amor, que recordasse nossos tempos a capopa nossas noites perdidas no capim que recordasse a sombra que nos caía dos jambos o luar que se coava das palmeiras sem fim que recordasse a loucura da nossa paixão e a amargura da nossa separação… Eu queria escrever-te uma carta amor, que a não lesses sem suspirar que a escondesses de papai Bombo que a sonegasses a mamãe Kieza que a relesses sem a frieza do esquecimento uma carta que em todo o Kilombo outra a ela não tivesse merecimento… Eu queria escrever-te uma carta amor, uma carta que ta levasse o vento que passa uma carta que os cajús e cafeeiros que as hienas e palancas que os jacarés e bagres pudessem entender para que o vento a perdesse no caminho os bichos e plantas compadecidos de nosso pungente sofrer de canto em canto de lamento em lamento de farfalhar em farfalhar te levassem puras e quentes as palavras ardentes as palavras magoadas da minha carta que eu queria escrever-te amor…. Eu queria escrever-te uma carta… Mas ah meu amor, eu não sei compreender por que é, por que é, por que é, meu bem que tu não sabes ler e eu – Oh! Desespero! – não sei escrever também

I wanted to write you a letter my love, a letter that would tell of this desire to see you of this fear of losing you of this more than benevolence that I feel of this indefinable ill that pursues me of this yearning to which I live in total surrender I wanted to write you a letter my love, a letter of intimate secrets, a letter of memories of you, of you of your lips red as henna of your hair black as mud of your eyes sweet as honey of your breasts hard as wild orange of your lynx gait and of your caresses such that I can find no better here … I wanted to write you a letter my love, that would recall the days in our haunts our nights lost in the long grass that would recall the shade falling on us from the plum trees the moon filtering through the endless palm trees that would recall the madness of our passion and the bitterness of our separation … I wanted to write you a letter my love, that you would not read without sighing that you would hide from from papa Bombo that you would withhold from mama Kieza that you would reread without the coldness of forgetting a letter to which in all Kilombo no other would stand comparison … I wanted to write you a letter my love a letter that would be brought to you by the passing wind a letter that the cashews and coffee trees the hyenas and buffaloes the alligators and grayling could understand so that if the wind should lose it on the way the beasts and plants with pity for our sharp suffering from song to song lament to lament gabble to gabble would bring you pure and hot the burning words the sorrowful words of the letter I wanted to write to you … I wanted to write you a letter … But oh my love, I cannot understand why it is, why, why, why it is, my dear that you cannot read and I – Oh the hopelessness! – cannot write!

David Earl Jackson “Nice Sister-Scholars Need Loving, Too”

Let me get
on my knees,
and lick it.

suck on it.
tongue my baby’s
black mystique
hidden secret
bootylicious love fire
flower swollen open
with pink red desire

let my hunger need
get inside and spend
the night eating up all of her
tasty juice cream goodness

Laura (Riding) Jackson “O Vocables of Love”

O vocables of love,
O zones of dreamt responses
Where wing on wing folds in
The negro centuries of sleep
And the thick lips compress
Compendiums of silence——

Throats claw the mirror of blind triumph,
Eyes pursue sight into the heart of terror.
Call within call
Succumbs to the indistinguishable
Wall within wall
Embracing the last crushed vocable,
The spoken unity of efforts.

O vocables of love,
The end of an end is an echo,
A last cry follows a last cry.
Finality of finality
Is perfection’s touch of folly.
Ruin unfolds from ruin.
A remnant breeds a universe of fragment.
Horizons spread intelligibility
And once more it is yesterday.

Laura (Riding) Jackson “Take Hands”

Take hands.
There is no love now.
But there are hands.
There is no joining now,
But a joining has been
Of the fastening of fingers
And their opening.
More than the clasp even, the kiss
Speaks loneliness,
How we dwell apart,
And how love triumphs in this.

Laura (Riding) Jackson “You or You”

How well, you, you resemble!
Yes, you resemble well enough yourself
For me to swear the likeness
Is no other and remarkable
And matchless and so that
I love you therefore. […]

Richard Jackson “Sonata of Love’s History”

[…] [B]ecause now
in this moment which is so wondrous the way
it lies beside you, I either do not exist or the past
has never existed, either my breath is
the breath of stars or I do not breathe as I turn to you,
as you breathe my name, my heart,
as the net of stars dissolves above us, as you wrap
yourself around me like honeysuckle, the moon
turning pale because it is so drained by our love,
so that before this moment, before you lay beneath me,
you must have disguised yourself the way the killdeer
you pointed out diverts intruders to save what it loves.
pretending a broken wing, giving itself over finally
to whatever forces, whatever love, whatever touch,
whatever suffering it needs just to say I am here,
I am always here, stroking the wings of your soul.

John James “Sister Midnight”

[…] outside the window the trees move in the night
your grand desire rises in my throat & my heart
pulses on into its thirty-sixth year like an indifferent
steam-engine while milky tea embalms the organ
a woman feels very cold around the buttocks
once in a while & yet your laugh brings light to me […]

Paul James & Kay Swift “Can This Be Love?”

VERSE
Who knows why the sea
Or why the sky is blue?
Why should you love me,
Or I love you?
Who knows how love starts
Or where its course will run?
Who knows why two hearts
Will beat as one?

REFRAIN
I’m all at sea,
Can this be love?
This mystery,
Can this be love?
I’m in a blue haze
Where nothing seems quite real.
I wander through days
With this crazy feeling.
What can it be,
Can this be love?
This thing that I
Keep dreaming of
All through the night till
I wake at early dawn?
Tell me, can this be love?

Paul James & Kay Swift “Fine and Dandy”

VERSE
Please forgive this platitude
But I like your attitude;
You are just the kind
I’ve had in mind,
Never could find,
Honey, I’m so keen on you,
I could come to lean on you;
Honor and obey
Give you your way.
Do what you say.

REFRAIN
Gee, it’s all
Fine and dandy
Sugar candy,
When I’ve got you.
Then I only see the sunny side,
Even trouble has its funny side.
When you’re gone,
Sugar candy,
I get lonesome,
I get so blue.
When you’re handy
It’s fine and dandy,
But when you’re gone
What can I do?

Jaufré Rudel “Assatz Es Ora Oimai Q’Eu Chant” “Love Song”

Assatz es ora oimai q’eu chant; tant ai estat acondurmitz c’anc mos chanz non fon lueing auzitz; mas era-m vau ja reveilhant, et irei mon joi recobran contre l’ivern e-l freig aurei. De joi no-m cal [fugir] enan, c’anc un sol jorn no-n fui garnitz; et es m’al cor prion sorzitz, si q’entre gens vau sospiran lo dezirier c’ai d’amor gran; ni dorm ni veil, ni aug ni vei. S’anc per amor anei veilhan, ni-n fui anc fols ni trassailitz, ni cambïatz per chamjaritz, era-n lau Dieu e Saint Joan, c’ab tal amor vau amoran c’anc non chamjec per autre mei. Cesta non cug qe ja m'[engan], s’ieu ja de leis no soi garnitz; ni no-n soi tant afolatitz qe ja re-il qeira ni-l deman, petit ni pro, ni tan ni qant, ni mal ni be, ni re ni qei. Tant la sei coinda e prezan, e-l faigz de leis es tant eslitz qe sai me tenc per enreqitz.

The time has come for me to sing; I have been so asleep That my song has not been heard afar; But now I am awake, And I shall regain my joy In spite of the winter and the cold wind. I should not run away from joy, For I have never for a day been graced with it; And it has surged deeply in my heart, So that among people I sigh For the great desire of love that I have; I neither sleep nor wake, hear nor see. If ever I stayed awake for love, Or was a fool or betrayed because of it, Or was crossed by a fickle woman, Now I praise God and Saint John Because I love with such a love That never exchanged me for another. I do not believe that this one would cheat me, Though I have not yet been graced by her; Nor am I so foolish As ever to seek or ask anything of her, Small or large, this or that, Bad or good, or anything. I know her to be so gracious and dignified, And her deeds are of such high merit, That here I consider myself rich, e lai [serai en] son coman la nueg e-l jorn e-l mes e l’an, c’aissi soi sieus con esser dei. Plas es lo vers, vauc l’afinan ses mot vila, fals, apostitz; et es totz enaissi noiritz c’ap motz politz lo vau uzan; e tot ades va-s meilluran s’es qi be-l chant ni be-l desplei.

Robinson Jeffers “For Una”

I

I built her a tower when I was young—
Sometime she will die—
I built it with my hands, I hung
Stones in the sky.
Old but still strong I climb the stone—
Sometime she will die—
Climb the steep rough steps alone,
And weep in the sky.
Never weep, never weep.
II
Never be astonished, dear.
Expect change,
Nothing is strange.
We have seen the human race
Capture all its dreams,
All except peace.
We have watched mankind like Christ
Toil up and up,
To be hanged at the top.
No longer envying the birds,
That ancient prayer for
Wings granted: therefore
The heavy sky over London
Stallion-hoofed
Falls on the roofs.
These are the falling years,
They will go deep,
Never weep, never weep.
With clear eyes explore the pit.
Watch the great fall
With religious awe.
III
It is not Europe alone that is falling
Into blood and fire.
Decline and fall have been dancing in all men’s souls
For a long while.
Sometime at the last gasp comes peace
To every soul.
Never to mine until I find out and speak
The things that I know.
IV
To-morrow I will take up that heavy poem again
About Ferguson, deceived and jealous man
Who bawled for the truth, the truth, and failed to endure
Its first least gleam. That poem bores me, and I hope will bore
Any sweet soul that reads it, being some ways
My very self but mostly my antipodes;
But having waved the heavy artillery to fire
I must hammer on to an end.
To-night, dear,
Let’s forget all that, that and the war,
And enisle ourselves a little beyond time,
You with this Irish whiskey, I with red wine
While the stars go over the sleepless ocean,
And sometime after midnight I’ll pluck you a wreath
Of chosen ones; we’ll talk about love and death,
Rock-solid themes, old and deep as the sea,
Admit nothing more timely, nothing less real
While the stars go over the timeless ocean,
And when they vanish we’ll have spent the night well.

Juan Ramón Jiménez “Faster, Earth, Faster”

Deprisa, tierra, deprisa; deprisa, deprisa, sol; descomponed el sistema, que me espera a mí el amor. ¿Qué importa que el universo se trastorne, tierra, sol? Todo es humo, sólo es gloria que me espera a mí el amor. ¡A la nieve con la espiga! ¡Anda, tierra; vuela, sol! ¡Abreviadme la esperanza, que me espera a mí el amor!

Faster, earth, faster; faster, faster, sun; set at odds the system, love awaits me now. What odds the universe be upset, earth, sun? All is smoke; sole glory is love awaiting now. Let snow destroy the wheat! Hurry, earth! Fly, sun! Shorten now my hoping time, for love awaits me now!

Juan Ramon Jiménez “To the bridge of love”

A la puente del amor, piedra vieja entre altas rocas —cita eterna, larde roja—, vengo con mi corazón: —Mi novia sola es el agua, que pasa siempre y no engaña, que pasa siempre y no cambia, que pasa siempre y no acaba—

to the bridge of love, old stone between tall cliffs –eternal meeting place, red evening–, I come with my heart. –My beloved is only water, that always passes away, and does not deceive, that always passes away, and does not change, that always passes away, and does not end.

Antonio Carlos Jobim & Gene Lees “Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars (Corcovado)”

Quiet nights and quiet stars
Quiet chords from my guitar
Floating on the silence that surrounds us

Quiet nights and quiet dreams
Quiet walks by quiet streams
And the window lookin’ on the mountains and the sea how lovely

This is where to be
Here with you so close to me
Till the final flicker of life’s ember

I who was lost and lonely
Believing life was a only a bitter tragic joke
Have found with you the meaning of existence oh, my love

-instrumental interlude-

This is where to be
Here with you so close to me
Till the final flicker of life’s ember

I who was lost and lonely
Believing life was a only a tragic joke
Have found with you the meaning of existence oh, my love

Georgia Douglas Johnson “I Want to Die While You Love Me”

I WANT to die while you love me,
While yet you hold me fair,
While laughter lies upon my lips
And lights are in my hair.

I want to die while you love me, 5
And bear to that still bed,
Your kisses turbulent, unspent
To warm me when I’m dead.

I want to die while you love me
Oh, who would care to live 10
Till love has nothing more to ask
And nothing more to give!

I want to die while you love me
And never, never see
The glory of this perfect day 15
Grow dim or cease to be.

Samuel Jones “The Force of Love”

When Cleomira disbelieves
Her shepherd, when he swears he lives
Or dies i’ th’ smiles or frowns she gives,

The echo mourns him to the plain,
And pity moves in ev’ry swain,
And makes the nymphs partake his pain.

But pity and the fair ones prove,
When Cleomira hates his love,
Like strange embraces to a dove.

For Cleomira’s hat can turn
Fresh youth and beauty to an urn:
Death sure than it’s much easier borne!

But Cleomira’s love can bless,
And turn t’ a grove a wilderness,
A dungeon to a pleasant place.

Without it, Pleasure’s self will show
The ghost of sorrow haunting you
In all the blissful things you do:

And with it, Nature’s self may fall,
Old Night and Death frail men appal,
Without dismaying you at all.

Ben Jonson “Song. To Celia (“Come my Celia, let us prove.”)

Come, my Celia, let us prove
While we may, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forever;
He at length our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Suns that set may rise again;
But if once we lose this light,
‘Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we defer our joys?
Fame and rumor are but toys.
Cannot we delude the eyes
Of a few poor household spies,
Or his easier ears beguile,
So removed by our wile?
’Tis no sin love’s fruit to steal;
But the sweet theft to reveal.
To be taken, to be seen,
These have crimes accounted been.

A. Van Jordan “Kind of Blue”

[…] Miles walked across the stage
on that tightrope invisible
to all but him, how he stepped at its edge,
and how he played “Time After Time”
and broke it down to you
and stared first at your legs,
and then straight into your eyes.
I wasn’t jealous, you see,
because he made my point for me. […]

June Jordan “Grand Army Plaza”

[…] we were lovers once
while
overarching the fastidious the starlit
dust
that softens space between us
is the history that bleeds
through shirt and blouse
alike […]

James Joyce “Though I thy Mithridates were”

THOUGH I thy Mithridates were,
Framed to defy the poison-dart,
Yet must thou fold me unaware
To know the rapture of thy heart,
And I but render and confess
The malice of thy tenderness.

For elegant and antique phrase,
Dearest, my lips wax all too wise;
Nor have I known a love whose praise
Our piping poets solemnize,
Neither a love where may not be
Ever so little falsity.

Irving Kahal & Pierre Norman “When I Take My Sugar to Tea”

VERSE

I’m just a little ” Jackie Horner “
Since I met my sugar cane.
That gang of mine has been revealin’
That they’re feelin’ sore.
I left the lamplight on the corner,
For the moon in lover’s lane;
I’m doing things I never did before.

REFRAIN

When I take my sugar to tea,
All the boys are jealous of me,
‘Cause I never take her where the gang goes,
When I take my sugar to tea.
I’m rowdy-dowdy, that’s me,
She’s a high-hat baby, that’s she.
So I never take her where the gang goes,
When I take my sugar to tea.
Ev’ry Sunday afternoon
We forget about our cares,
Rubbing elbows at the Ritz
With those millionaires.
When I take my sugar to tea,
I’m as Ritzy as I can be,
‘Cause I never take her where the gang goes,
When I take my sugar to tea.

Gus Kahn “I’m Through with Love”

I have given you my true love,
But you love a new love.
What am I supposed to do now
With you now, you’re through?
You’ll be on your merry way
And there’s only this to say:

I’m through with love
I’ll never fall again.
Said adieu to love
Don’t ever call again.
For I must have you or no one
Because I’m through with love.

I’ve locked my heart
I’ll keep my feelings there.
I have stocked my heart
With an icy, Frigidaire.
For I mean to care for no one
Because I’m through with love.

Why did you lead me
to think you could care?
You didn’t need me
for you had your share
of slaves around you
to hound you and swear
with deep emotion, devotion to you.

Goodbye to spring and all it meant to me
It could never bring the things that used to be.
For I must have you or no one
So I am through with love.

(Instrumental break)

Goodbye to spring and all it meant to me
It can never bring the thing that used to be.
For I must have you or no one
Because I’m through with love.

Bert Kalmar & Harry Ruby “Three Little Words”

Three little words, oh what I’d give for that wonderful phrase,
To hear those three little words that’s all I’d live for the rest of my days.
And what I feel in my heart, they tell sincerely.
No other words can tell it half so clearly.
Three little words, eight little letters which simply mean I love you.
Three little words, oh what I’d give for that wonderful phrase,
To hear those three little words that’s all I’d live for the rest of my days.
And what I feel in my heart, they tell sincerely.
No other words can tell it half so clearly.
Three little words, eight little letters which simply mean I love you.

Kang Un’gyo 사랑법 salangbeob “Love’s Way” tr. Kang Un’gyo

떠나고 싶은 자 떠나게 하고 잠들고 싶은 자 잠들게 하고 그리고도 남는 시간은 침묵할 것. 또는 꽃에 대하여 또는 하늘에 대하여 또는 무덤에 대하여 서둘지 말 것 침묵할 것. 그대 살 속의 오래 전에 굳은 날개와 흐르지 않는 강물과 누워 있는 누워 있는 구름, 결코 잠깨지 않는 별을 쉽게 꿈꾸지 말고 쉽게 흐르지 말고 쉽게 꽃피지 말고 그러므로 실눈으로 볼 것 떠나고 싶은 자 홀로 떠나는 모습을 잠들고 싶은 자 홀로 잠드는 모습을 가장 큰 하늘은 언제나 그대 등 뒤에 있다.

tteonago sip-eun ja tteonage hago jamdeulgo sip-eun ja jamdeulge hago geuligodo namneun sigan-eun chimmughal geos. ttoneun kkoch-e daehayeo ttoneun haneul-e daehayeo ttoneun mudeom-e daehayeo seodulji mal geos chimmughal geos. geudae sal sog-ui olae jeon-e gud-eun nalgaewa heuleuji anhneun gangmulgwa nuwo issneun nuwo issneun guleum, gyeolko jamkkaeji anhneun byeol-eul swibge kkumkkuji malgo swibge heuleuji malgo swibge kkochpiji malgo geuleomeulo silnun-eulo bol geos tteonago sip-eun ja hollo tteonaneun moseub-eul jamdeulgo sip-eun ja hollo jamdeuneun moseub-eul gajang keun haneul-eun eonjena geudae deung dwie issda.

He who wants to leave Let him leave He who wants to sleep Let him sleep And with the time saved Be silent. Of flowers as well Of heaven as well Of a grave as well Don’t rush Be silent. In your flesh The callused wings The river that doesn’t flow The idle, idle clouds, The stars that never wake Don’t dream easily Don’t flow easily Don’t bloom easily However Seen with narrowed eyes: He who wants to leave His lonely leaving form, He who wants to sleep His solitary slumber, The greatest span of heaven Will always be behind you.

John Keats “Bright Star”

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

John Keats “Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose” from The Eve of St. Agnes

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart
Made a purple riot: then doth he propose
A stratagem, that makes the beldame start:
“A cruel man and impious thou art:
Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream
Alone with her good angels, far apart

Abu Sa’id Abul Khayr, (967-1048) “If I”ve been dead for twenty years or so”

If I’ve been dead for twenty years or so
And you, believing love gone long ago,
Should stir my dust and say, “Whose grave is this?”
“How is my love?” will echo from below.

Kikaku “In the Emperor’s bed”

in the emperor’s bed,
the smell of burnt mosquitoes,
and erotic whispers

Kim Sangyong “Love Is False”

Love is false, that he loves me is a lie.
That he saw me in a dream is a worse lie.
If you are sleepless as I, in which dream would you see me?

Galway Kinnell “The Perch”

There is a fork in a branch
of an ancient, enormous maple,
one of a grove of such trees,
where I climb sometimes and sit and look out
over miles of valleys and low hills.
Today on skis I took a friend
to show her the trees. We set out
down the road, turned in at
the lane which a few weeks ago,
when the trees were almost empty
and the November snows had not yet come,
lay thickly covered in bright red
and yellow leaves, crossed the swamp,
passed the cellar hole holding
the remains of the 1850s farmhouse
that had slid down into it by stages
in the thirties and forties, followed
the overgrown logging road
and came to the trees. I climbed up
to the perch, and this time looked
not into the distance but at
the tree itself, its trunk
contorted by the terrible struggle
of that time when it had its hard time.
After the trauma it grows less solid.
It may be some such time now comes upon me.
It would have to do with the unaccomplished,
and with the attempted marriage
of solitude and happiness. Then a rifle
sounded, several times, quite loud,
from across the valley, percussions
of the custom of male mastery
over the earth — the most graceful,
most alert of the animals
being chosen to die. I looked
to see if my friend had heard,
but she was stepping about on her skis,
studying the trees, smiling to herself,
her lips still filled, for all
we had drained them, with hundreds
and thousands of kisses. Just then
she looked up — the way, from low
to high, the god blesses — and the blue
of her eyes shone out of the black
and white of bark and snow, as lovers
who are walking on a freezing day
touch icy cheek to icy cheek,
kiss, then shudder to discover
the heat waiting inside their mouths.

Galway Kinnell “Rapture”

[…] Her breasts fall full; the nipples
are deep pink in the glare shining up through the iron bars
of the gate under the earth where those who could not love
press, wanting to be born again.
I reach out and take her wrist
and she falls back into bed and at once starts unbuttoning my pajamas. […]

Galway Kinnell “That Silent Evening”

[…] Lying still in snow,
not iron-willed, like railroad tracks, willing
not to meet until heaven, but here and there
making slubby kissing stops in the field,
our tracks wobble across the snow their long scratch.
Everything that happens here is really little more,
if even that, than a scratch, too. […]

Galway Kinnell “The Waking”

[…] We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go. […]

Carolyn Kizer “The Copulating Gods”

[…] We were their religion before they were born.
The spectacle of our carnality
Confused them into spiritual lust.
The headboard of our bed became their altar,
Rare nectar, shared, a common sacrament.
The wet drapery of our sheets, molded
To noble thighs, is made the basis
For a whole new aesthetics
God is revealed as the first genius. […]

Carolyn Kizer “Food of Love”

[…] You will become my personal Sahara;
I’ll sun myself in you, then with one swallow
Drain your remaining brackish well.
With my female blade I’ll carve my name
In your most aspiring palm
Before I chop it down.
Then I’ll inhale your last oasis whole. […]

Carolyn Kizer “The Glass”

Your body tolls the hour,
The hands spin round and round.
Your face, the focus of light,
Will burn me to the ground.

Losing ourselves in Love
Beneath this counterpane,
Unwinding from its womb
To the all-consuming now,

All day today I die,
I die eternally,
Losing myself in joy.
By one touch you put out time.