You And I

Jean Honore Fragonard

The Stolen Kiss

You And I

My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear;

My ear is tired for waiting for your call.

I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer;

Heart, soul and senses need you, one and all.

I droop without your full, frank sympathy;

We ought to be together - you and I;

We want each other so, to comprehend

The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or wrought.

Companion, comforter and guide and friend,

As much as love asks love, does thought ask thought.

We ought to be together, you and I.

~ Henry Alford ~

The Jewels

Amedeo Modigliani

Nude with a Necklace

The Jewels

My well-beloved was stripped. Knowing my whim,

She wore her tinkling gems, but naught besides:

And showed such pride as, while her luck betides,

A sultan's favoured slave may show to him.

When it lets off its lively, crackling sound,

This blazing blend of metal crossed with stone,

Gives me an ecstasy I've only known

Where league of sound and luster can be found.

She let herself be loved: then, drowsy-eyed,

Smiled down from her high couch in languid ease.

My love was deep and gentle as the seas

And rose to her as to a cliff the tide.

My own approval of each dreamy pose,

Like a tamed tiger, cunningly she sighted:

And candour, with lubricity united,

Gave piquancy to every one she chose.

Her limbs and hips, burnished with changing lustres,

Before my eyes clairvoyant and serene,

Swanned themselves, undulating in their sheen;

Her breasts and belly, of my vine and clusters,

Like evil angels rose, my fancy twitting,

To kill the peace which over me she'd thrown,

And to disturb her from the crystal throne

Where, calm and solitary, she was sitting.

So swerved her pelvis that, in one design,

Antiope's white rump it seemed to graft

To a boy's torso, merging fore and aft.

The talc on her brown tan seemed half-divine.

The lamp resigned its dying flame. Within,

The hearth alone lit up the darkened air,

And every time it sighed a crimson flare

It drowned in blood that amber-coloured skin.

~ Charles Baudelaire ~

Lochinvar

Gustave Moreau

Scottish Knight

Lochinvar

OH! young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapons had none.
He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He stayed not for brake and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none,
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love and a dastard in war
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,
Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,--

For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,--
'Oh! come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?'--

'I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide--
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.'
The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup,
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar,--
'Now tread we a measure!' said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride -- maidens whispered ''Twere better by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.'
One touch to her hand and one word in her ear,
When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
'She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

~ Sir Walter Scott ~

A Book of Verse

George Wesley Bellows

Romance of Autumn

A Book of Verse

A book of verse, underneath the bough,

A jug of wine, a loaf of bread - and thou

Beside me singing in the wilderness -

Ah, wilderness were paradise now!

~ Omar Khayyam ~

A Red Flower

Dorothea Tanning

The Black Rose

A Red Flower

Your lips are like a southern lily red,

Wet with the soft rain-kisses of the night,

In which the brown bee buries deep its head,

When still the dawn's a silver sea of light.

Your lips betray the secret of your soul,

The dark delicious essence that is you,

A mystery of life, the flaming goal

I seek through mazy pathways strange and new.

Your lips are the red symbol of a dream,

What visions of warm lilies they impart,

That line the green bank of a fair blue stream,

With butterflies and bees close to each heart!

Brown bees that murmur sounds of music rare,

That softly fall upon the langourous breeze,

Wafting them gently on the quiet air

Among untended avenues of trees.

O were I hovering, a bee, to probe

Deep down within your scented heart, fair flower,

Enfolded by your soft vermilion robe,

Amorous of sweets, for but one perfect hour!

~ Claude McKay ~

Good-Night

Simeon Solomon

Moon and Sleep

Good-Night

Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,
Then it will be good night.

How can I call the lone night good,
Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight?
Be it not said, thought, understood --
Then it will be -- good night.

To hearts which near each other move
From evening close to morning light,
The night is good; because, my love,
They never say good-night.

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley ~

Now Winter Nights Enlarge

Dale Nichols

End of Day

Now Winter Nights Enlarge

Now winter nights enlarge
The number of their hours;
And clouds their storms discharge
Upon the airy towers.
Let now the chimneys blaze
And cups o'erflow with wine,
Let well-tuned words amaze
With harmony divine.
Now yellow waxen lights
Shall wait on honey love
While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights
Sleep's leaden spells remove.

This time doth well dispense
With lovers' long discourse;
Much speech hath some defense,
Though beauty no remorse.
All do not all things well;
Some measures comely tread,
Some knotted riddles tell,
Some poems smoothly read.
The summer hath his joys,
And winter his delights;
Though love and all his pleasures are but toys,
They shorten tedious nights.

~ Thomas Campion ~

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed

Theodore Geircaula

The Kiss

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white.
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "O, list,"
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!
That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, "My love, my own."

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning ~

XX

Frank W. Benson

The Sunny Window

XX

The most beautiful sea:

hasn't been crossed yet.

The most beautiful child:

hasn't grown up yet.

Our most beautiful days:

we haven't seen yet.

And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you

I haven't said yet...

~ Nazim Hikmet ~