"equall" poems
Now you have freely given me leave to love,
What will you doe?
Shall I your mirth, or passion move,
When I begin to wooe;
Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too?
Each petty beauty can disdain, and I,
Spight of your hate,
Without your leave can see, and dye,
Dispence a nobler Fate,
Tis easie to destroy, you may create.
Then give me leave to love, and love me too
Not with designe
To rayse, as Loves curst Rebels doe,
When puling Poets whine,
Fame to their beauty, from their blubbr’d eyn.
Grief is a puddle, and reflects not clear
Your beauties rayes;
Joyes are pure streames, your eyes appear
Sullen in sadder layes,
In cheerfull numbers they shine bright with prayse.
Which shall not mention, to express you fayr,
Wounds, flames, and darts,
Storms in your brow, nets in your hair,
Suborning all your parts,
Or to betray, or torture captive hearts.
I’le make your eyes like morning Suns appear,
As mild, and fair;
Your brow as Crystal smooth, and clear,
And your dishevell’d hayr
Shall flow like a calm Region of the Ayr.
Rich Nature’s store, (which is the Poet’s Treasure)
I’le spend, to dress
Your beauties, if your mine of Pleasure
In equall thankfulness
You but unlock, so we each other bless.
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Foolish prater, what dost thou
So early at my window do?
Cruel bird, thou’st ta’en away
A dream out of my arms to-day;
A dream that ne’er must equall’d be
By all that waking eyes may see.
Thou this damage to repair
Nothing half so sweet and fair,
Nothing half so good, canst bring,
Tho’ men say thou bring’st the Spring.
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There was a time, I need not name,
Since it will ne’er forgotten be,
When all our feelings were the same
As still my soul hath been to thee.
And from that hour when first thy tongue
Confess’d a love which equall’d mine,
Though many a grief my heart hath wrung,
Unknown, and thus unfelt, by thine,
None, none hath sunk so deep as this—
To think how all that love hath flown;
Transient as every faithless kiss,
But transient in thy breast alone.
And yet my heart some solace knew,
When late I heard thy lips declare,
In accents once imagined true,
Remembrance of the days that were.
Yes! my adored, yet most unkind!
Though thou wilt never love again,
To me ’tis doubly sweet to find
Remembrance of that love remain.
Yes! ’tis a glorious thought to me,
Nor longer shall my soul repine,
Whate’er thou art or e’er shall be,
Thou hast been dearly, solely mine.
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The one I love
The one I hate
I can spend
Equall amounts of time
Thinking of both
It requires
The same amount of energies
Just opposite
Or maybe the same
Both passionate
One positive
One negative
If you can say love is good
Or that hate is bad
Really
You can't
Both may reap
The same results
They can tear you apart
And pull you together again
It is as water and fire
Both may destroy
And bothe may mend
Warm a freezing child
Burn a weeping mother
Quench a deadly thirst
Drown a foolish man
My words may not tell
My intended tale
But you will take what you will
For I cannot controll your feelings
Any,ore than I controll
My versa vice
One and the same
Both
Hated and loved
Burning and drowning me
Warmings and quenching my thirst
Saving and killing
And versa vice
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 1:21 PM UTC