Sunday, May 31, 2015

The First Kiss Of Love


When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past –
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove –
The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.

~ Lord Byron

Smile Away Despair


When trouble haunts me, need I sigh?
No, rather smile away despair.

~ John Clare

In Spite Of Everything


In spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing.

~ Vincent Van Gogh

Painting: Self-Portrait by Vincent Van Gogh

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Inner Light


Not from without us, only from within,
Comes or can ever come upon us light
Whereby the soul keeps ever truth in sight.

~ Algernon Charles Swinburne

Friday, May 29, 2015

Perfect Lips


A man had given all other bliss,
And all his worldly worth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips.

~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

Photo: Keira Knightley as Guinevere in King Arthur 2004.

I Remain Mistress Of Mine Own Self


I remain
Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.

~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

Painting: The Bridge by Inga Nielsen

Thursday, May 28, 2015

The Essence Of All Beauty


The essence of all beauty, I call love.

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Where Kingcups Grow


O lead me onward to the loneliest shade,
The darkest place that quiet ever made,
Where kingcups grow most beauteous to behold
And shut up green and open into gold.

~ John Clare

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

My Salad Days


My salad days,
When I was green in judgment, cold in blood,
To say as I said then!

~ William Shakespeare

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

A Rose In Spite Of Thorns


Oh that it were with me
As with the flower;
Blooming on its own tree
For butterfly and bee
Its summer morns:
That I might bloom mine hour 
A rose in spite of thorns.

~ Christina Rossetti

Words Are Poor Receipts


O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away.

~ John Clare

Fresh-Blown Musk-Rose


I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,
A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw
Its sweets upon the summer.

~ John Keats

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Two Butterflies Upon One Flower


Two butterflies upon one flower: -
O happy they who look on them.

~ Christina Rossetti

لم يبق عندي ما أقول


لم يبقَ عندي ما أقولُ
لم يبقَ عندي ما أقولُ
تعبَ الكلاَمُ من الكَلامِ
وماتَ في أحداقِ أعيُننا النَّخيلُ

~ نزار قباني

The Little Celandine


There's a flower that shall be mine,
'Tis the little Celandine.

~ William Wordsworth

Saturday, May 23, 2015

There Is No Darkness But Ignorance


There is no darkness but ignorance.

~ William Shakespeare

Photo: Statue of William Shakespeare - Leicester Square Gardens, London.

Friday, May 22, 2015

Lasses


Green grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
Are spent amang the lasses, O!

~ Robert Burns

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Pearls


Some asked how pearls did grow, and where?
Then spoke I to my girl
To part her lips, and showed them there
The quarelets of pearl.

~ Robert Herrick

The Bluebell Is The Sweetest Flower


The Bluebell is the sweetest flower
That waves in summer air:
Its blossoms have the mightiest power
To soothe my spirit's care.

~ Emily Bronte

Monday, May 18, 2015

Red & White Rose


She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near";
And the white rose weeps, "She is late".

~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

Faith and Love



Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white,
Love is like a lovely rose, the world's delight.

~ Christina Rossetti

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Shed No Tear!


Shed no tear! O shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Weep no more! O weep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root's white core.

~ John Keats

I Weep For Adonais


I weep for Adonais - he is dead!
Oh, weep for Adonais! though our tears
Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

Painting: John Keats (1828) by T. Sampson, after an original of 1816 by Benjamin Robert Haydon

The Broad Sun


The broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea.

~ William Wordsworth

Saturday, May 16, 2015

The Moon Tries In Vain


The moon tries every month in vain
To paint a picture of your face;
And, having failed to catch its grace,
Destroys the work, and starts again.

~ Dharmakirti

Bluebell


There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.

~ Anne Bronte

Friday, May 15, 2015

A Rose Is Best


Of all flowers
Methinks a rose is best.

~ William Shakespeare

Go, Lovely Rose


Go, lovely Rose –
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.

~ Edmund Waller

Painting: Portrait of Catherine Gray, Lady Manners (Detail) by Thomas Lawrence

Thursday, May 14, 2015

What Other People Think


Care about what other people think and you will always be their prisoner.

~ Lao Tzu

A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal


A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal
by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

A slumber did my spirit seal,
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

Photo: Sleeping Angel - Highgate Cemetery - London

Nature Does Not Hurry


Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.

~ Lao Tzu

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

O Snail


O snail,
Climb Mount Fuji,
But slowly, slowly!

~ Kobayashi Issa

Painting: Snail On Mountain by Henry Colchado

The True Old Times Are Dead


For now I see the true old times are dead,
When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.

~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

Painting: The Accolade by Edmund Blair Leighton

Monday, May 11, 2015

Here We Go Round The Prickly Pear


Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

~ T. S. Eliot

Wordsworth's Definition Of Poetry


Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity.

~ William Wordsworth

Sunday, May 10, 2015

To The Torrent At The Devil's Bridge


To The Torrent At The Devil's Bridge, North Wales, 1824
by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

How art thou named? In search of what strange land,
From what huge height, descending? Can such force
Of waters issue from a British source,
Or hath not Pindus fed thee, where the band
Of patriots scoop their freedom out, with hand
Desperate as thine? Or come the incessant shocks
From that young stream that smites the throbbing rocks
Of Viamala? There I seem to stand,
As in life's morn; permitted to behold,
From the dread chasm, woods climbing above woods,
In pomp that fades not; everlasting snows;
And skies that ne'er relinquish their repose:
Such power possess the family of floods
Over the minds of poets, young or old!

Photo: Devil's Bridge Falls - North Wales

Mother O' Mine


Mother O' Mine
by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

Painting: Maternal Admiration by William-Adolphe Bouguereau

The Hollow Men


We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw.

~ T. S. Eliot

Painting: The Hollow Men by Howard Penning

Saturday, May 09, 2015

Reading A Book


Reading a book is like re-writing it for yourself.

~ Angela Carter

Painting by Vicente Romero Redondo

Thoughts On A Still Night


Thoughts On A Still Night
by Li Bai (701-762)

Before my bed, the moon is shining bright,
I think that it is frost upon the ground.
I raise my head and look at the bright moon,
I lower my head and think of home.

Friday, May 08, 2015

Which Way I Ought To Go?


"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.

"I don't much care where –" said Alice.

"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.

"– so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.

"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."

~ Lewis Carroll
Alice In Wonderland

Thursday, May 07, 2015

Our Bodies Are Our Gardens


'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.

~ William Shakespeare

Photo: Shakespeare's Garden - Central Park - New York

A Summer's Day


Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

~ William Shakespeare

Photo: Shakespeare's Statue - Central Park - New York

Wednesday, May 06, 2015

All The World's A Stage


All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.

~ William Shakespeare

Photo: Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London

Knowing I Loved My Books


Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

~ William Shakespeare

Forget Not


Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

~ Khalil Gibran

Painting: Windswept by John William Waterhouse

Tuesday, May 05, 2015

How Eloquent Are Eyes


How eloquent are eyes!
Not the rapt poet's frenzied lay
When the soul's wildest feelings stray
Can speak so well as they.

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

Painting: Amalie von Schintling by Joseph Karl Stieler

I Plucked Pink Blossoms


I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple tree
And wore them all that evening in my hair:
Then in due season when I went to see
I found no apples there.

~ Christina Rossetti

Painting: Apple Blossom by Sir George Clausen

Monday, May 04, 2015

Poets


Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

Painting: The Apotheosis Of Homer by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres

من ساءه سبب


مَنْ سَاءَهُ سَبَبٌ أَوْ هَالَهُ عَجَبٌ 
فَلِي ثَمَانُونَ عَاماً لاَ أَرَى عَجَبَا
الدَّهْرُ كَالدَّهْرِ وَالأيَّامُ وَاحِدَةٌ 
وَالنَّاسُ كَالنَّاسِ وَالدُّنْيَا لِمَنْ غَلَبَا
 
~ أبو العلاء المعري