by Laura Barber
With wares which would sink admiration,
I saw I had love’s pinnace over-fraught:
Ev’ry thy hair for love to work upon
Is much too much, some fitter must be sought;
For, nor in nothing, nor in things
Extreme, and scatt’ring bright, can love inhere;
Then, as an angel, face and wings
Of air, not pure as it, yet pure doth wear,
So thy love may be my love’s sphere;
Just such disparity
As is ’twixt air and angels’ purity,
’Twixt women’s love, and men’s will ever be.
LOUIS MACNEICE
Coda
Maybe we knew each other better
When the night was young and unrepeated
And the moon stood still over Jericho.
So much for the past; in the present
There are moments caught between heart-beats
When maybe we know each other better.
But what is that clinking in the darkness?
Maybe we shall know each other better
When the tunnels meet beneath the mountain.
CAROL ANN DUFFY
Words, Wide Night
Somewhere, on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this
is what it is like or what it is like in words.
PHILIP LARKIN
Broadcast
Giant whispering and coughing from
Vast Sunday-full and organ-frowned-on spaces
Precede a sudden scuttle on the drum,
‘The Queen’, and huge resettling. Then begins
A snivel on the violins:
I think of your face among all those faces,
Beautiful and devout before
Cascades of monumental slithering,
One of your gloves unnoticed on the floor
Beside those new, slightly-outmoded shoes.
Here it goes quickly dark. I lose
All but the outline of the still and withering
Leaves on half-emptied trees. Behind
The glowing wavebands, rabid storms of chording
By being distant overpower my mind
All the more shamelessly, their cut-off shout
Leaving me desperate to pick out
Your hands, tiny in all that air, applauding.
AMY LOWELL
The Letter
Little cramped words scrawling all over the paper
Like draggled fly’s legs,
What can you tell of the flaring moon
Through the oak leaves?
Or of my uncurtained window and the bare floor
Spattered with moonlight?
Your silly quirks and twists have nothing in them
Of blossoming hawthorns,
And this paper is dull, crisp, smooth, virgin of loveliness
Beneath my hand.
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you;
Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
And I scald alone, here, under the fire
Of the great moon.
CHINUA ACHEBE
Love Song (for Anna)
Bear with me my love
in the hour of my silence;
the air is crisscrossed
by loud omens and songbirds
fearing reprisals of middle day
have hidden away their notes
wrapped up in leaves
of cocoyam… What song shall I
sing to you my love when
a choir of squatting toads
turns the stomach of day with
goitrous adoration of an infested
swamp and purple-headed
vultures at home stand
sentry on the rooftop?
I will sing only in waiting
silence your power to bear
my dream for me in your quiet
eyes and wrap the dust of our blistered
feet in golden anklets ready
for the return someday of our
banished dance.
GEORGE MACDONALD
The Shortest and Sweetest of Songs
Come
Home.
FRANCES CORNFORD
The Avenue
Who has not seen their lover
Walking at ease,
Walking like any other
A pavement under trees,
Not singular, apart,
But footed, featured, dressed,
Approaching like the rest
In the same dapple of the summer caught;
Who has not suddenly thought
With swift surprise:
There walks in cool disguise,
There comes, my heart?
With a vow
With a vow
ELIZABETH GARRETT
Epithalamium
Ask not, this night, how we shall love
When we are three-year lovers;
How clothes, as lapsing tides, as love,
May slide, three summers over;
Nor ask when the eye’s quick darknesses
Throw shadows on our skin
How we shall know our nakedness
In the difference of things.
Ask not whose salty hand turns back
The sea’s sheet on the shore,
Or how the spilt and broken moon rides
Still each wave’s humped back –
Ask not, for it is given as my pledge
That night shall be our sole inquisitor,
Day our respondent, and each parting as the bride
And groom, an hour before their marriage.
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD
Destiny
Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours
For one lone soul another lonely soul,
Each choosing each through all the weary hours
And meeting strangely at one sudden goal.
Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers,
Into one beautiful and perfect whole;
And life’s long night is ended, and the way
Lies open onward to eternal day.
BRIAN PATTEN
January Gladsong
Seeing as yet nothing is really well enough arranged
the dragonfly will not yet sing
nor will the guests ever arrive
quite as naked as the tulips intended.
Still, because once again I am wholly glad of living,
I will make all that is possible step out of time
to a land of giant hurrays! where the happy monsters dance
and stomp darkness down.
Because joy and sorrow must finally unite and the small heart-
beat of sparrow be heard above jet-roar, I will sing
not of tomorrow’s impossible paradise
but of what now radiates.
Forever the wind is blowing the white clouds in someone’s pure direction.
In all our time birdsong has teemed and couples known
that darkness is not forever.
In the glad boat we sail the gentle and invisible ocean
where none have ever really drowned.
W. H. AUDEN
Carry her over the water,
And set her down under the tree,
Where the culvers white all day and all night,
And the winds from every quarter,
Sing agreeably, agreeably, agreeably of love.
Put a gold ring on her fin
ger,
And press her close to your heart,
While the fish in the lake their snapshots take,
And the frog, that sanguine singer,
Sings agreeably, agreeably, agreeably of love.
The streets shall all flock to your marriage,
The houses turn round to look,
The tables and chairs say suitable prayers,
And the horses drawing your carriage
Sing agreeably, agreeably, agreeably of love.
FRANCIS QUARLES
Even like two little bank-dividing brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
And having ranged and searched a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames
Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my Best-Beloved’s am, so he is mine.
Even so we met; and after long pursuit
Even so we joined; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit,
For I was flax and he was flames of fire:
Our firm united souls did more than twine,
So I my Best-Beloved’s am, so he is mine.
If all those glittering monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball
Should tender in exchange their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin;
The world’s but theirs, but my Beloved’s mine.
Nay, more: if the fair Thespian ladies all
Should heap together their diviner treasure,
That treasure should be deemed a price too small
To buy a minute’s lease of half my pleasure.
’Tis not the sacred wealth of all the Nine
Can buy my heart from him, or his from being mine.
Nor time, nor place, nor chance, nor death can bow
My least desires unto the least remove;
He’s firmly mine by oath, I his by vow;
He’s mine by faith, and I am his by love;
He’s mine by water, I am his by wine;
Thus I my Best-Beloved’s am, thus he is mine.
He is my altar, I his holy place;
I am his guest, and he my living food;
I’m his by penitence, he mine by grace;
I’m his by purchase, he is mine by blood;
He’s my supporting elm, and I his vine:
Thus I my Best-Beloved’s am, thus he is mine.
He gives me wealth, I give him all my vows;
I give him songs, he gives me length of days;
With wreaths of grace he crowns my conquering brows;
And I his temples with a crown of praise,
Which he accepts as an everlasting sign,
That I my Best-Beloved’s am: that he is mine.
ALICE OSWALD
Wedding
From time to time our love is like a sail
and when the sail begins to alternate
from tack to tack, it’s like a swallowtail
and when the swallow flies it’s like a coat;
and if the coat is yours, it has a tear
like a wide mouth and when the mouth begins
to draw the wind, it’s like a trumpeter
and when the trumpet blows, it blows like millions…
and this, my love, when millions come and go
beyond the need of us, is like a trick;
and when the trick begins, it’s like a toe
tip-toeing on a rope, which is like luck;
and when the luck begins, it’s like a wedding,
which is like love, which is like everything.
ANONYMOUS
I will give my love an apple without e’er a core,
I will give my love a house without e’er a door,
I will give my love a palace wherein she may be,
And she may unlock it without any key.
My head is the apple without e’er a core,
My mind is the house without e’er a door,
My heart is the palace wherein she may be,
And she may unlock it without any key.
LEMN SISSAY
Invisible Kisses
If there was ever one
Whom when you were sleeping
Would wipe your tears
When in dreams you were weeping;
Who would offer you time
When others demand;
Whose love lay more infinite
Than grains of sand.
If there was ever one
To whom you could cry;
Who would gather each tear
And blow it dry;
Who would offer help
On the mountains of time;
Who would stop to let each sunset
Soothe the jaded mind.
If there was ever one
To whom when you run
Will push back the clouds
So you are bathed in sun;
Who would open arms
If you would fall;
Who would show you everything
If you lost it all.
If there was ever one
Who when you achieve
Was there before the dream
And even then believed;
Who would clear the air
When it’s full of loss;
Who would count love
Before the cost.
If there was ever one
Who when you are cold
Will summon warm air
For your hands to hold;
Who would make peace
In pouring pain,
Make laughter fall
In falling rain.
If there was ever one
Who can offer you this and more;
Who in keyless rooms
Can open doors;
Who in open doors
Can see open fields
And in open fields
See harvests yield.
Then see only my face
In the reflection of these tides
Through the clear water
Beyond the river side.
All I can send is love
In all that this is
A poem and a necklace
Of invisible kisses.
JAMES FENTON
Hinterhof
Stay near to me and I’ll stay near to you –
As near as you are dear to me will do,
Near as the rainbow to the rain,
The west wind to the windowpane,
As fire to the hearth, as dawn to dew.
Stay true to me and I’ll stay true to you –
As true as you are new to me will do,
New as the rainbow in the spray,
Utterly new in every way,
New in the way that what you say is true.
Stay near to me, stay true to me. I’ll stay
As near, as true to you as heart could pray.
Heart never hoped that one might be
Half of the things you are to me –
The dawn, the fire, the rainbow and the day.
JOSHUA SYLVESTER
Were I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain
Ascend to heaven in honour of my Love.
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Whereso’er you were, with you my love should go.
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My Love should shine on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes,
Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were done.
Whereso’er I am, below or else above you,
Whereso’er you are, my heart shall truly love you.
E. E. CUMMINGS
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fearn no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
GEORGE CHAPMAN
from The Masque of the Middle Temple and Lincoln’s Inn
Bridal Song
Now, Sleep, bind fast the flood of air,
Strike all things dumb and deaf,
And to disturb our nuptial pair
Let stir no aspen leaf.
Send flocks of golden dreams
That all true joys presage;
Bring, in thy oily streams,
The milk-and-honey age.
Now close the world-round sphere of bliss,
And fill it with a heavenly kiss.
MICHAEL DONAGHY
The Present
For the present there is just one moon,