Book Read Free

Penguin's Poems for Love

Page 4

by Laura Barber


  So big to hold so much, they lack retention.

  Alas, their love may be called appetite,

  No motion of the liver, but the palate,

  That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt.

  But mine is all as hungry as the sea,

  And can digest as much. Make no compare

  Between that love a woman can bear me

  And that I owe Olivia.

  VIOLA: Ay, but I know –

  ORSINO:

  What dost thou know?

  VIOLA:

  Too well what love women to men may owe.

  In faith, they are as true of heart as we.

  My father had a daughter loved a man –

  As it might be perhaps, were I a woman,

  I should your lordship.

  ORSINO: And what’s her history?

  VIOLA:

  A blank, my lord. She never told her love,

  But let concealment, like a worm i’the bud,

  Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,

  And with a green and yellow melancholy,

  She sat like Patience on a monument,

  Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?

  We men may say more, swear more, but indeed

  Our shows are more than will; for still we prove

  Much in our vows, but little in our love.

  ORSINO:

  But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

  VIOLA:

  I am all the daughters of my father’s house,

  And all the brothers too; and yet, I know not…

  Sir, shall I to this lady?

  ORSINO: Ay, that’s the theme.

  To her in haste; give her this jewel; say

  My love can give no place, bide no denay.

  CAROL ANN DUFFY

  Warming Her Pearls

  Next to my own skin, her pearls. My mistress bids

  me wear them, warm them, until evening

  when I’ll brush her hair. At six, I place them

  round her cool white throat. All day I think of her,

  resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk

  or taffeta, which gown tonight? She fans herself

  whilst I work willingly, my slow heat entering

  each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope.

  She’s beautiful. I dream about her

  in my attic bed; picture her dancing

  with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent

  beneath her French perfume, her milky stones.

  I dust her shoulders with a rabbit’s foot,

  watch the soft blush seep through her skin

  like an indolent sigh. In her looking glass

  my red lips part as though I want to speak.

  Full moon. Her carriage brings her home. I see

  her every movement in my head… Undressing,

  taking off her jewels, her slim hand reaching

  for the case. Slipping naked into bed, the way

  she always does… And I lie here awake,

  knowing the pearls are cooling even now

  in the room where my mistress sleeps. All night

  I feel their absence and I burn.

  WILLIAM BLAKE

  The Sick Rose

  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.

  WALLACE STEVENS

  Gray Room

  Although you sit in a room that is gray,

  Except for the silver

  Of the straw-paper,

  And pick

  At your pale white gown;

  Or lift one of the green beads

  Of your necklace,

  To let it fall;

  Or gaze at your green fan

  Printed with the red branches of a red willow;

  Or, with one finger,

  Move the leaf in the bowl –

  The leaf that has fallen from the branches of the

  forsythia

  Beside you…

  What is all this?

  I know how furiously your heart is beating.

  WILFRED OWEN

  Maundy Thursday

  Between the brown hands of a server-lad

  The silver cross was offered to be kissed.

  The men came up, lugubrious, but not sad,

  And knelt reluctantly, half-prejudiced.

  (And kissing, kissed the emblem of a creed.)

  Then mourning women knelt; meek mouths they had,

  (And kissed the Body of the Christ indeed.)

  Young children came, with eager lips and glad.

  (These kissed a silver doll, immensely bright.)

  Then I, too, knelt before that acolyte.

  Above the crucifix I bent my head:

  The Christ was thin, and cold, and very dead:

  And yet I bowed, yea, kissed – my lips did cling.

  (I kissed the warm live hand that held the thing.)

  SARAH FYGE EGERTON

  A Song

  How pleasant is love

  When forbid or unknown;

  Was my passion approved,

  It would quickly be gone.

  It adds to the charms

  When we steal the delight;

  Why should love be exposed

  Since himself has no sight?

  In some sylvan shade

  Let me sigh for my swain,

  Where none but an echo

  Will speak on’t again.

  Thus silent and soft

  I’ll pass the time on,

  And when I grow weary

  I’ll make my love known.

  Nearly

  JEAN ‘BINTA’ BREEZE

  Dubwise

  ‘cool an

  deadly’

  snake

  lady

  writhing

  ‘roun

  de worlie’

  wraps

  her sinews

  roun his

  pulse

  and grinds

  his pleasure

  and disgust

  into a

  one dance

  stand

  to equalise

  he grins

  cockwise

  at his bredrin

  and rides

  a ‘horseman scabie’

  or bubbles a

  ‘water

  bumpie’

  into action

  the d.j.

  eases a

  spliff

  from his lyrical

  lips

  and smilingly

  orders

  ‘Cease’

  JOHN DRYDEN

  Song: from An Evening’s Love

  Calm was the Even, and clear was the sky

  And the new budding flowers did spring,

  When all alone went Amyntas and I

  To hear the sweet Nightingale sing;

  I sat, and he laid him down by me;

  But scarcely his breath he could draw;

  For when with a fear he began to draw near,

  He was dash’d with A ha ha ha ha!

  He blush’d to himself, and lay still for a while,

  And his modesty curb’d his desire;

  But straight I convinc’d all his fear with a smile,

  Which added new flames to his fire.

  ‘O Sylvia’, he said, ‘you are cruel,

  To keep your poor Lover in awe’;

  Then once more he pressed with his hand to my breast,

  But was dash’d with A ha ha ha ha!

  I knew ’twas his passion that caus’d all his fear;

  And therefore I pitied his case:

  I whisper’d him softly ‘There’s no body near’,

  And laid my cheek close to his face:

  But as he grew bolder and bolder,


  A Shepherd came by us and saw;

  And just as our bliss we began with a kiss,

  He laughed out with A ha ha ha ha!

  THOMAS HARDY

  A Thunderstorm in Town

  She wore a new ‘terra-cotta’ dress,

  And we stayed, because of the pelting storm,

  Within the hansom’s dry recess,

  Though the horse had stopped; yea, motionless

  We sat on, snug and warm.

  Then the downpour ceased, to my sharp sad pain,

  And the glass that had screened our forms before

  Flew up, and out she sprang to her door:

  I should have kissed her if the rain

  Had lasted a minute more.

  CONNIE BENSLEY

  A Friendship

  He made restless forays

  into the edge of our marriage.

  One Christmas Eve he came late,

  his dark hair crackling with frost,

  and ate his carnation buttonhole

  to amuse the baby.

  When I had a second child

  he came to the foot of my bed at dusk

  bringing pineapples and champagne,

  whispering ‘Are you awake?’ –

  singing a snatch of opera.

  The Nurse tapped him on the shoulder.

  At the end, we took turns at his bedside.

  I curled up in the chair; listened to each breath

  postponing itself indefinitely.

  He opened his eyes once and I leaned forward:

  ‘Is there anything you want?’

  ‘Now she asks,’ he murmured.

  Tentatively

  ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH

  from Amours de Voyage, Canto II

  X Claude to Eustace

  I am in love, meantime, you think; no doubt you would think so.

  I am in love, you say; with those letters, of course, you would say

  so.

  I am in love, you declare. I think not so; yet I grant you

  It is a pleasure, indeed, to converse with this girl. Oh, rare gift,

  Rare felicity, this! she can talk in a rational way, can

  Speak upon subjects that really are matters of mind and of

  thinking,

  Yet in perfection retain her simplicity; never, one moment,

  Never, however you urge it, however you tempt her, consents to

  Step from ideas and fancies and loving sensations to those vain

  Conscious understandings that vex the minds of man-kind.

  No, though she talk, it is music; her fingers desert not the keys;

  ’tis

  Song, though you hear in the song the articulate vocables

  sounded,

  Syllabled singly and sweetly the words of melodious meaning.

  I am in love, you say; I do not think so exactly.

  CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH NORTON

  I do not love thee! – no! I do not love thee!

  And yet when thou art absent I am sad;

  And envy even the bright blue sky above thee,

  Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.

  I do not love thee! – yet, I know not why,

  Whate’er thou dost seems still well done, to me:

  And often in my solitude I sigh

  That those I do love are not more like thee!

  I do not love thee! – yet, when thou art gone,

  I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear)

  Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone

  Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear.

  I do not love thee! – yet thy speaking eyes,

  With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue,

  Between me and the midnight heaven arise,

  Oftener than any eyes I ever knew.

  I know I do not love thee! yet, alas!

  Others will scarcely trust my candid heart;

  And oft I catch them smiling as they pass,

  Because they see me gazing where thou art.

  BRIAN PATTEN

  Forgetmeknot

  She loves him, she loves him not, she is confused:

  She picks a fist of soaking grass and fingers it:

  She loves him not.

  The message passing from her head to heart

  Has in her stomach stopped,

  She cannot quite believe the information is correct:

  She loves him not.

  She knows her needs and yet

  There is no special place where they can rest.

  To be loved alone is not enough,

  She feels something has been lost.

  She picks a fist of soaking grass.

  Her world is blank, she thinks perhaps it’s

  meaningless.

  SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

  from Astrophil and Stella

  I

  Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,

  That she (dear she) might take some pleasure of my pain;

  Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know;

  Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain;

  I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe,

  Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain;

  Oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow

  Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burned brain.

  But words came halting forth, wanting invention’s stay;

  Invention, nature’s child, fled step-dame study’s blows;

  And others’ feet still seemed but strangers in my way.

  Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,

  Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite,

  ‘Fool,’ said my muse to me; ‘look in thy heart and write.’

  BERNARD O’DONOGHUE

  Stealing Up

  I’ve always hated gardening: the way

  The earth gets under your nails

  And in the chevrons of your shoes.

  So I don’t plan it; I steal up on it,

  Casually, until I find –

  Hey presto! – the whole lawn’s cut

  Or the sycamore’s wand suddenly

  Sports an ungainly, foal-like leaf.

  Similarly, I’d have written to you

  Sooner, if I’d had the choice.

  But morning after morning I woke up

  To find the same clouds in the sky,

  Disabling the heart. But tomorrow

  Maybe I’ll get up to find an envelope,

  Sealed, addressed to you, propped against

  My cup, lit by a slanting sun.

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

  from Romeo and Juliet, II, ii

  ROMEO:

  But soft! what light through yonder window breaks?

  It is the east and Juliet is the sun!

  Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon

  Who is already sick and pale with grief

  That thou her maid art far more fair than she.

  Be not her maid since she is envious,

  Her vestal livery is but sick and green

  And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.

  It is my lady, O it is my love!

  O that she knew she were!

  She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?

  Her eye discourses, I will answer it.

  I am too bold. ’Tis not to me she speaks.

  Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

  Having some business, do entreat her eyes

  To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

  What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

  The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars

  As daylight doth a lamp. Her eyes in heaven

  Would through the airy region stream so bright

  That birds would sing and think it were not night.

  See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.

  O that I were a glove upon that hand,

>   That I might touch that cheek.

  JULIET:

  Ay me.

  ROMEO:

  She speaks.

  O speak again bright angel, for thou art

  As glorious to this night, being o’er my head,

  As is a winged messenger of heaven

  Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes

  Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

  When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds

  And sails upon the bosom of the air.

  JULIET:

  O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

  Deny thy father and refuse thy name.

  Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love

  And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

  ROMEO:

  Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

  THOM GUNN

  Jamesian

  Their relationship consisted

  In discussing if it existed.

  JACOB SAM-LA ROSE

  Things That Could Happen

  1.

  She swoons, falls into his arms

  and they live together happily ever after.

  2.

  She kisses him: the restaurant applauds.

  3.

  There’s a pin-drop silence. She turns

  the knife in her hand, slowly.

  4.

  His heart bursts in his mouth before he can say the words.

  It splatters the table, ruins her dress, and she never forgives him.

  5.

  He’s interrupted by a handsome man from another table

  who asks if he can cut in. She accepts, of course,

  and waltzes off to an orchestra of cutlery, side-plates,

  strummed napkins and warm bread. He seethes, turns bald

  and tells the story to every man he meets.

  6.

  She falls in love with the waiter.

 

‹ Prev