Why So Pale and Wan
by John Suckling (1609-1642)

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
         Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can’t move her,
         Looking ill prevail?
         Prithee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
         Prithee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can’t win her,
         Saying nothing do’t?
         Prithee, why so mute?

Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move:
         This cannot take her.
If of herself she cannot love,
         Nothing can make her:
         The devil take her!

Views: 29

Death
by Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)

Storm and strife and stress,
Lost in a wilderness,
Groping to find a way,
Forth to the haunts of day

Sudden a vista peeps,
Out of the tangled deeps,
Only a point—the ray
But at the end is day.

Dark is the dawn and chill,
Daylight is on the hill,
Night is the flitting breath,
Day rides the hills of death.

Views: 24

Song (“Pluck the fruit and taste the pleasure”)
by Thomas Lodge (c. 1558-1625)

Pluck the fruit and taste the pleasure,
      Youthful lordings, of delight;
Whilst occasion give you seizure,
      Feed your fancies and your sight:
            After death, when you are gone,
            Joy and pleasure is there none.

Here on earth nothing is stable,
      Fortune’s changes well are known;
Whilst as youth doth then enable,
      Let your seeds of joy be sown:
            After death, when you are gone,
            Joy and pleasure is there none.

Feast it freely with your lovers,
      Blithe and wanton sweets do fade;
Whilst that lovely Cupid hovers
      Round about this lovely shade,
            Sport it freely one to one;
            After death is pleasure none.

Now the pleasant spring allureth,
      And both place and time invites:
Out, alas! what heart endureth
      To disclaim his sweet delights?
            After death, when you are gone,
            Joy and pleasure is there none.

Views: 29

Lover’s Song
by Frederic William Henry Myers (1843-1901)

Oh how in words to tell the rest?
      My bird, my child, my dove!
Behold I render best for best,
      I bring thee love for love.

Oh give to God the love again
      Which had from him its birth,
Oh bless him, for he sent the twain
      Together on the earth.

Views: 30

To the Sour Reader
by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

If thou dislik’st the piece thou light’st on first,
Think that of all, that I have writ, the worst:
But if thou read’st my book unto the end,
And still do’st this and that verse, reprehend;
O perverse man! if all disgustful be,
The extreme scab take thee, and thine, for me.

Views: 21

Opp, Amaryllis
by Carl Michael Bellman (1740-1795)

Opp, Amaryllis! Vakna min lilla!
            Vädret är stilla,
            luften sval.
            Regnbågen prålar,
            med sina strålar
            randiga målar
            skog och dal.
Amaryllis, låt mig utan våda
i Neptuni famn dig frid bebåda!
Sömnens gud får icke mera råda
i dina ögon, i suckar och tal!

Kom nu och fiska — noten är bunden —
            kom nu på stunden,
            följ mig åt!
            Kläd på dig tröjan,
            kjorteln och slöjan,
            gäddan och löjan
            ställ försåt!
Vakna, Amaryllis lilla, vakna —
låt mig ej ditt glada sällskap sakna!
Bland delfiner och sirener nakna
ska vi nu plaska med vår lilla båt.

Tag dina metspön, revar och dragen!
            Nu börjar dagen —
            skynda dig!
            Söta min lilla,
            Tänk icke illa!
            Skulle du villa
            neka mig?
låt oss fara till det lilla grundet
eller dit bort till det gröna sundet,
där vår kärlek knutit det förbundet,
varöver Tirsis så harmade sig!

Stig då i båten! Sjungom vi båda!
            Kärlek skall råda
            i vårt bröst.
            Eol sig harmar,
            men när han larmar,
            i dina armar
            är min tröst.
Lycklig uppå havets vreda bölja
i din stilla famn, kan jag ej dölja
hur i döden hjärtat vill dig följa…
Sjungen, sirener, och härmen min röst!

Views: 24

I Am Rose
by Gertrude Stein (1874-1946)

I am Rose my eyes are blue
I am Rose and who are you
I am Rose and when I sing
I am Rose like anything

Views: 23

“Strings in the earth and air” (Chamber Music I)
by James Joyce (1882-1941)

Strings in the earth and air
      Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
      The willows meet.

There’s music along the river
      For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
      Dark leaves on his hair.

All softly playing,
      With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying
      Upon an instrument.

Views: 27

The Sick Rose
by William Blake (1757-1827)

O rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

Views: 35

Richard Cory
by Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935)

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked ;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich,—yes, richer than a king, —
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

Views: 35