Z H E N G ��W A H ' s ��P A G E �� O �� P O E T R Y

For he that sees the heaven he misses
Sustains two hells, of love and pain . . .



Poetry To Me

Falling in love is a fantasy ... a fantasy that many of us cannot help but want to pursue. The promise of sheer exuberance, the lightness of heart that love can provoke and the sensation of life being utterly transformed, forces us to run head-long after the wispy stuff of which love is made.

It is almost hopeless to define what love is. Many have tried and failed, as many have avoided and fallen right into it. Poets down the generations have given us various definitions of love - "Is ever a mixed sense / Of what we have, and what we want" - "the most generous passion of the mind". But what IS love?

Perhaps love was best defined by Shakespeare as a "choking gall and a preserving sweet".

Were I given the choice, I would probably have ventured into arts, literature and fine. Generally regarded as courses "the rich kids" take. However, given my family's financial status at that time, I wasn't given much choice. So I amused myself by dabbling. I prefer to sit quietly in a corner of the house and read, anything I can get my hands on ... books of poetry (surprising many old books in my home, since none of my grandparents were literate) ... fantastical stories ... Reader's Digest (I'm not kidding, they are illiterate!).

Well, here is a selection of some of my favourites ... I've not read the best, so don't expect any miraculously beautiful poems. However, if your interests lies in stuff like that, I'm pretty sure something here will tug at your heart-strings.



Love That Never Told Can Be

Never seek to tell thy love
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.

- William Blake -

A Prayer For Indifference

I ask no kind return of love,
No tempting charm to please;
Far from the heart those gifts remove,
That sighs for peace and ease;

Nor peace, nor ease, the heart can know,
That, like the needle true,
turns at the touch of joy or woe,
But, turning, trembles too.

Far as distress the soul can wound,
'Tis pain in each degree:
'Tis bliss but to a certain bound,
Beyond is agony.

- Francis Greville -

Two Truths

'Darling,' he said, 'I never meant
To hurt you;' and his eyes were wet.
'I would not hurt you for the world:
Am I to blame if I forget?'

'Forgive my selfish tears!' she cried,
'Forgive! I knew that it was not
Because you meant to hurt me, sweet-
I knew it was that you forgot!'

But all the same, deep in her heart
Rankled this thought, and rankles yet, -
'When love is at its best, one loves
So much that he cannot forget.'

- Helen Hunt Jackson -

Epitaph

His being was in her alone:
And he not being, She was none.

They joyed one joy, one grief they grieved;
One love they loved, one life they lived.
The hand was one, one was the sword,
That did his death, her death afford.

As all the rest, so now the stone
That tombs the two is justly one.

- Sir Philip Sidney -

Song

Foolish eyes, thy streams give over,
Wine not water, binds the lover,
At the table then be shining.
Gay coquet and all designing.
To th'addressing foplings bowing,
And thy smile, or hand allowing,
Whine no more, thy sacred passion,
Out of nature, out of fashion.

Let him disappointed find thee
False as he, nor dream to bind thee.
While he breaks all tender measures,
Murdering love, and all it's pleasures.
Shall I look or word decieve thee,
Which he once an age will give thee?
Oh! no more, no more, excuse him,
Like a dull deserter use him.

- Martha Sansom -

Inordinate Love

I shall say what inordinate love is :
The fouriosit� and the wodness of minde,
A instinguible brenning fawting blis,
A gret hungre, insaciat to finde,
A dowcet ille, a ivell swetness blinde,
A right wonderfulle, sugred swete errour.
Without labour rest, contrary to kinde,
Or without quiete to have huge labour.

- Anonymous -



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