discover-old-poems - Tumblr blog

[discover-old-poems]

Therefore the love which us doth blind, But Fate so enviously debars, Is the conjunction of the mind, And opposition of the starts.

Andrew Marvell, “The Definition of Love”, 1681

[discover-old-poems]

As lines, so loves oblique may well Themselves in every angle greet; But ours so truly parallel, Though infinite, can never meet.

Andrew Marvell, “The Definition of Love”, 1681

[discover-old-poems]

Unless the giddy heaven fall, And earth some new convulsion tear; And, us to join, the world should all Be cramp'd into a planisphere.

Andrew Marvell, “The Definition of Love”, 1681

[discover-old-poems]

And therefore her decrees of steel Us as the distant poles have plac'd, (Though love's whole world on us doth wheel) Not by themselves to be embrac'd;

Andrew Marvell, “The Definition of Love”, 1681

[discover-old-poems]

For Fate with jealous eye does see Two perfect loves, nor lets them close; Their union would her ruin be, And her tyrannic pow'r depose.

Andrew Marvell, “The Definition of Love”, 1681

[discover-old-poems]

And yet I quickly might arrive Where my extended soul is fixt, But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always crowds itself betwixt.

Andrew Marvell, “The Definition of Love”, 1681

[discover-old-poems]

Magnanimous Despair alone Could show me so divine a thing Where feeble Hope could ne'er have flown, But vainly flapp'd its tinsel wing.

Andrew Marvell, “The Definition of Love”, 1681

[discover-old-poems]

My love is of a birth as rare As 'tis for object strange and high; It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility.

Andrew Marvell, “The Definition of Love”, 1681

[discover-old-poems]

And art thou nothing? Such thou art, as when The woodman winding westward up the glen At wintry dawn, where o'er the sheep-track's maze The viewless snow-mist weaves a glist'ning haze, Sees full before him, gliding without tread, An image with a glory round its head; The enamoured rustic worships its fair hues, Nor knows he makes the shadow, he pursues!

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Constancy to an Ideal Object”, 1828

[discover-old-poems]

Van repetition! Home and Thou are one. The peacefull'st cot, the moon shall shine upon, Lulled by the thrush and wakened by the lark, Without thee were but a becalmed bark, Whose Helmsman on an ocean waste and wide Sits mute and pale his mouldering helm beside.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Constancy to an Ideal Object”, 1828

[discover-old-poems]

Still, still as though some dear embodied Good, Some living Love before my eyes there stood With answering look a ready ear to lend, I mourn to thee and say -- 'Ah! loveliest friend! That this the meed of all my toils might be, To have a home, an English home, and thee!'

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Constancy to an Ideal Object”, 1828

[discover-old-poems]

Fond Thought! not one of all that shining swarm Will breathe on thee with life-enkindling breath, Till when, like strangers shelt'ring from a storm, Hope and Despair meet in the porch Death! Yet still though haunt'st me; and though well I see, She is not though, and only thou are she,

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Constancy to an Ideal Object”, 1828

[discover-old-poems]

Since all that beat about in Nature's range, Or veer or vanish; why should'st thou remain The only constant in a world of change, O yearning Thought! that liv'st but in the brain? Call to the Hours, that in the distance play, The faery poeple of the future day --

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Constancy to an Ideal Object”, 1828

[discover-old-poems]

When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wondered. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Charge of the Light Brigade”, 1854

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Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell. They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Charge of the Light Brigade”, 1854

[discover-old-poems]

Flashed all their sabres bare, Flashed as they turned in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wondered. Plunged in the battery-smoke Right through the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre stroke Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Charge of the Light Brigade”, 1854

[discover-old-poems]

Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of hell Rode the six hundred.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Charge of the Light Brigade”, 1854