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I'm always willing to endure humiliation on behalf of my characters.

quote by Ben Stiller
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The Loveable Characters

I long for the streets but the Lord knoweth best,
For there I am never a saint;
There are lovable characters out in the West,
With humour heroic and quaint;
And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back,
When I shall have gone to my Home,
I trust to be buried 'twixt River and Track
Where my lovable characters roam.

There are lovable characters drag through the scrub,
Where the Optimist ever prevails;
There are lovable characters hang round the pub,
There are lovable jokers at sales
Where the auctioneer's one of the lovable wags
(Maybe from his "order" estranged),
And the beer is on tap, and the pigs in the bags
Of the purchasing cockies are changed.

There were lovable characters out in the West,
Of fifty hot summers, or more,
Who could not be proved, when it came to the test,
Too old to be sent to the war;
They were all forty-five and were orphans, they said,
With no one to keep them, or keep;
And mostly in France, with the world's bravest dead,
Those lovable characters sleep.

I long for the streets, but the Lord knoweth best,
For there I am never a saint;
There are lovable characters out in the West,
With humour heroic and quaint;
And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back,
When I shall have gone to my Home,
I trust to be buried 'twixt River and Track
Where my lovable characters roam.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Separating The Mind From The Heart

Here we go again
Their is blood in the water
From those who thought they were smarter
A castration with humiliation
You can't defy the laws of gravity
What is will always be
At least so it seems.

Separating the mind from the heart
Trying not act so torn apart
I was took under
I made a blunder
I still hear the sound of thunder

But when you are just so down are your luck
One more can never be enough
Just never enough
Symptomatic to the climatic
Drama gots her needs
She is the devil
And walks inside me

Here we go again
Their is blood in the water
From those who thought they were smarter
A castration with humiliation
You can't defy the laws of gravity
What is will always be
At least so it seems.

Separating the mind from the heart
Trying not act so torn apart
I was took under
I made a blunder
I still hear the sound of thunder

Far from perfect
Every flaw is desired
If only I can be rewired
Set my soul on fire
Let burn brighter
Let it reach the farthest shore
A beautiful coast to most

Here we go again
Their is blood in the water
From those who thought they were smarter
A castration with humiliation
You can't defy the laws of gravity
What is will always be

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 1

Let Elizur rejoice with the Partridge, who is a prisoner of state and is proud of his keepers.

Let Shedeur rejoice with Pyrausta, who dwelleth in a medium of fire, which God hath adapted for him.

Let Shelumiel rejoice with Olor, who is of a goodly savour, and the very look of him harmonizes the mind.

Let Jael rejoice with the Plover, who whistles for his live, and foils the marksmen and their guns.

Let Raguel rejoice with the Cock of Portugal -- God send good Angels to the allies of England!

Let Hobab rejoice with Necydalus, who is the Greek of a Grub.

Let Zurishaddai with the Polish Cock rejoice -- The Lord restore peace to Europe.

Let Zuar rejoice with the Guinea Hen -- The Lord add to his mercies in the WEST!

Let Chesed rejoice with Strepsiceros, whose weapons are the ornaments of his peace.

Let Hagar rejoice with Gnesion, who is the right sort of eagle, and towers the highest.

Let Libni rejoice with the Redshank, who migrates not but is translated to the upper regions.

Let Nahshon rejoice with the Seabreese, the Lord give the sailors of his Spirit.

Let Helon rejoice with the Woodpecker -- the Lord encourage the propagation of trees!

Let Amos rejoice with the Coote -- prepare to meet thy God, O Israel.

Let Ephah rejoice with Buprestis, the Lord endue us with temperance and humanity, till every cow have her mate!

Let Sarah rejoice with the Redwing, whose harvest is in the frost and snow.

Let Rebekah rejoice with Iynx, who holds his head on one side to deceive the adversary.

Let Shuah rejoice with Boa, which is the vocal serpent.

Let Ehud rejoice with Onocrotalus, whose braying is for the glory of God, because he makes the best musick in his power.

Let Shamgar rejoice with Otis, who looks about him for the glory of God, and sees the horizon compleat at once.

Let Bohan rejoice with the Scythian Stag -- he is beef and breeches against want and nakedness.

Let Achsah rejoice with the Pigeon who is an antidote to malignity and will carry a letter.

Let Tohu rejoice with the Grouse -- the Lord further the cultivating of heaths and the peopling of deserts.

Let Hillel rejoice with Ammodytes, whose colour is deceitful and he plots against the pilgrim's feet.

Let Eli rejoice with Leucon -- he is an honest fellow, which is a rarity.

[...] Read more

poem by Christopher Smart
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Near Though Far

Oh, my dear song-birds!
With melodic music of love,
Please vibrate her treasure-heart
Delicately and kindly
On behalf of me.

Oh, my dear breeze tender!
With flowers' balmy aroma,
Please caress her pink cheeks to shimmer
Softly and warmly
On behalf of me.

Oh, my dear a cup of tea!
With delicious taste after meal,
Please feel her rosy lips sweaty
Eagerly and charmingly
On behalf of me.

Oh, my dear water-drops clean!
With harmony touch enchanting,
Please embrace her cute skin
Assortedly and fascinatingly
On behalf of me.

Oh, my beloved!
Though we're far in distance,
Don't be afraid and depressed.
They'll make you vigilant.
When they try you to dab,
Just allow them as my agents.

poem by Aung Si Myanmar
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Loneliness

There're many things in life i can endure,
One such thing is poverty.
But loneliness, loneliness,
Is one thing i can't endure.
There're many things in the world i can endure,
One such thing is humility.
But loneliness, (loneliness) loneliness, (loneliness)
Is something i can't endure.
How could i stand loneliness, loneliness?
How are you suppose to cope with loneliness, loneliness?
How would one live with loneliness, loneliness, lo-oh-loneliness?
(oh, loneliness)
There are many things in time and space i can endure,
In fact, i can endure most anything.
But loneliness, (loneliness) loneliness, (loneliness)
Is something i can't endure.
How could i stand loneliness, loneliness?
How are you suppose to cope with loneliness, loneliness?
How would one live with loneliness, loneliness, lo-oh-loneliness?
Lo-oh-loneliness.
(loneliness, so lonely)
(loneliness, so lonely)
(loneliness, so lonely)
(loneliness, so lonely)
(loneliness, so lonely)
(loneliness, so lonely)
(loneliness, so lonely)
(loneliness, so lonely)
(loneliness, so lonely)

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Mirror Image

How many times when reading a book,
do we identify with the characters within?
Their traits they have we share,
their loves and heartaches
their lives go through somehow mirror our own.
It’s as if the author was writing about us.
As though he has put us under a microscope
and then writing down everything, he saw.
However, we know this isn’t so
because he or she has written
segments of their own life
and by accident they happen to mirror ours.
Every writer will tell you
that they have their characters under control.
Having written numerous novels,
I know the characters take on a life of their own
and do what they want to do.
We become their instrument as they guide us on our way.
We end up writing what they want us to say.
To every writer his characters are real,
they live, breathe and feel.
The more you write about them,
the more alive they become.
So the next time you pick up a book
and the characters seem real,
they probably are to the author
who looks after them.

24 September 2008

poem by David Harris
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To All Human Hearts and Intelligences

Dedicated to the Unified Voice of Humanity:

To all my beloved destructive characters
shouting, “make way! ”
violent, vicious
shoving aside, clearing room
Echoing the cosmic call of entropy!

I dare neither dismiss nor desert you
nor shall I look down upon you for lack of creative output.

Your provocative force misunderstood by many
but not by me
The driving force of chaos is inevitable.
I, willingly, am glad to bare witness to your efficacy.
Characters of very few needs,
I too, see no need to replace or mourn that which has been destroyed.

Do not attempt to change on society's behalf.

Consumers, activists, unemployed,
saints, sociopaths, dead-beat parents,
no matter color of collar or hue of skin,
we all take far more than we give (at least in this life)
for whom do we consider to be destructive?
(are we not all guilty?)

To the all the fragile human hearts,

In you is stored the solidarity of an entire race.
Perceive not your pains toils trials and turbulencies
to be the signs of weakness,
through them strength lays its ever enduring foundation.
The gaping onset, the passing numbness
shall give form to a solid gold core.

For love has no one directional flow,
its endowment is invested equally
amongst the vast spheres and plains
of space and time.
All matter is receptive to that compassion
which emits steadily and ceaselessly
from the lofty souls of all lovers.

Be there any greater more resound lovers
than those lovers residing here today
on this earth?

Through the callous passing of the ages

[...] Read more

poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Humiliations Are In The Avail

Humiliation is experienced
When not treated or heeded adequately,
When wishes ignored or requests turned down
Or when in receipt of a slight or a frown.

Humiliation is experienced,
In failure to meet expectation,
In foolishness from the action done
And in the deduction of the hidden.

Humiliation is unpredictable.
Failure, like success, is the part of the game.
The best way of dealing it is swallow it
And be cautious of such situation.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Earn Enough For Us

Ive been praying all the week through
At home, at work and on the bus
Ive been praying I can keep you
And to earn enough for us
I can take humiliation
And hurtful comments from the boss
Im just praying by the weekend
I can earn enough for us
Found a house that wont repair itself
With its windows cracking
And a roof held together with holes
Just because were at the bottom of the ladder
We shouldnt be sadder
Than others like us
Who have goals for the betterment of life
Glad that you want to be my wife, but honest
Ive been praying all the week through
At home at work and on the bus
Ive been praying I can keep you
And to earn enough for us
So youre saying that were going to be three
Now, a fathers what Ill be
Dont get me wrong, Im so proud
But the belts already tight
Ill get another job at night, but honest
I can take humiliation
And hurtful comments from the boss
Im just praying by the weekend
I can earn enough for us
Just because were at the bottom of the ladder
We shouldnt be sadder
Than others like us
Who have goals for the betterment of life
Glad that you want to be my wife, but honest
I can take humiliation
And hurtful comments from the boss
Im just praying by the weekend
I can earn enough for us
I can earn enough for us

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Little Wine

No longer drink water but,
Drink a little wine for your stomach's sake;
I write so that you may know.
Don't be a novice,
You shall not steal;
I write so that you may learn.
On behalf of the Kings,
On behalf of the Queens,
On behalf of all who are in authority;
We brought nothing into this world and,
We will carry nothing out of it.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I Watch You Sleeping

This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the flower that shattered the stone album, and has also been released on the stonehaven sunrise and the john denver collection - take
Ome, country roads albums.
I watch you sleeping little angel face
And on behalf of the human race
Welcome to this crazy place
I watch you sleeping innocent and free
I dont know what your dreams may be
You dont know what you mean to me
You have never heard thunder
You have never seen the rain
But you can still feel the wonder
You can still feel the pain
And sometimes you look at me
So wise and so sure
I could easily believe you have been here before
I watch you sleeping little angel face
And on behalf of the human race
Welcome to this crazy place
I wont be here forever
But as long as Im around
I promise you I will never let you down
To help make a world you can feel worthy of
I will teach you to fly on the wings of my love
I watch you sleeping brave and unaware
You dont know yet so you dont care
I want you to know its hard out there
I watch you sleeping little angel face
And on behalf of the human race
Welcome to this crazy place
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
I watch you sleeping
Words and music by mike batt

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Pastime of Pleasure : The First Part.

Here begynneth the passe tyme of pleasure.

Ryyght myghty prynce / & redoubted souerayne
Saylynge forthe well / in the shyppe of grace
Ouer the wawes / of this lyfe vncertayne
Ryght towarde heuen / to haue dwellynge place
Grace dothe you guyde / in euery doubtfull cace
Your gouernaunce / dothe euermore eschewe
The synne of slouthe / enemy to vertewe
Grace stereth well / the grace of god is grete
Whiche you hathe brought / to your ryall se
And in your ryght / it hath you surely sette
Aboue vs all / to haue the soueraynte
Whose worthy power / and regall dygnyte
All our rancour / and our debate and ceace
Hath to vs brought / bothe welthe reste and peace
Frome whome dyscendeth / by the ryghtfull lyne
Noble pryuce Henry / to succede the crowne
That in his youthe / dothe so clerely shyne
In euery vertu / castynge the vyce adowne
He shall of fame / attayne the hye renowne
No doubte but grace / shall hym well enclose
Whiche by trewe ryght / sprange of the reed rose
Your noble grace / and excellent hyenes
For to accepte / I beseche ryght humbly
This lytell boke / opprest with rudenes
Without rethorycke / or colour crafty
Nothynge I am / experte in poetry
As the monke of Bury / floure of eloquence
Whiche was in tyme / of grete excellence
Of your predecessour / the .v. kynge henry
Vnto whose grace / he dyde present
Ryght famous bokes / of parfyte memory
Of his faynynge with termes eloquent
Whose fatall fyccyons / are yet permanent
Grounded on reason / with clowdy fygures
He cloked the trouthe / of all his scryptures
The lyght of trouthe / I lacke connynge to cloke
To drawe a curtayne / I dare not to presume
Nor hyde my mater / with a mysty smoke
My rudenes connynge / dothe so sore cōsume
Yet as I maye / I shall blowe out a fume
To hyde my mynde / vnderneth a fable
By conuert colour / well and probable
Besechynge your grace / to pardon myne ignoraunce
Whiche this fayned fable / to eschewe ydlenesse
Hane so compyled / now without doubtaunce
For to present / to your hye worthynesse
To folowe the trace / and all the parfytenesse
Of my mayster Lydgate / with due exercyse

[...] Read more

poem by Stephen Hawes
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That Depends On the Enlightenment of Your Consciousness

How much more pain can you endure?
That's a good question!
How much more would you like?
Would you like that with or without an appetitizer?

You seem to prefer your suffering done,
With a full voicing of complaint.
You seem to have awaited,
The moment of its infliction.
Then you began...
A whining without constraint!

How much more pain can you endure?
How much more would you like?
When did you decide,
That an enduring of it...
Brought to you more dignity?
And enhanced your pride in others' eyes?

How much more pain can you endure?
You seem to enjoy it with cocktails.
Or at least with others,
Who feel their afflictions...
Increases a degree of a perceived patriotism!
And of course...
No end appears in sight for your noble sacrifice.

How much more pain can you endure?
That's a good question!
But I am sure,
When you begin to hold yourself accountable for it...
You will awaken to discover,
The foolishness of your decision.
And those you believed had your best interests...
Kept you in pain to obtain their own gains!

And how much of their gain,
Can you endure at your expense?
That depends on the enlightenment of your consciousness.
And your willingness to seek some answers,
When you have been detoxed from your addiction!
Without the need to martyr or bleed away,
Your right to a peace of mind...
That has obviously become no one's concern!
And this is a lesson,
You aren't the only one...
That has to learn!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Character is something you forge for yourself; temperament is something you are born with and can only slightly modify. Some people have easy temperaments and weak characters; others have difficult temperaments and strong characters. We are all prone to confuse the two in assessing people we associate with. Those with easy temperaments and weak characters are more likable than admirable; those with difficult temperaments and strong characters are more admirable than likable. Of course, the optimum for a person is to possess both an easy temperament and a strong character, but this is a rare combination, and few of us are that lucky.

quote by Sydney J. Harris
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The Cinematic

It's a strange task to put something down in ink
The things worth saying
Are the things that can't be said- I think
The songs that mean something to sing
Are beyond words above language
The kind you can't directly engage
All this to say what I now say
Is worth saying, worth it to me

When I write a movie script
There's something about me
That becomes
Invested
Inserted
Infused
Into my characters, it's a feeling that is foreign
For I feel what they feel and not what I fell
And yet their person flows from who I am, closer than kin
Simultaneously their emotions are born of mine
As their emotions are born in me.
It's not quite as if I see what they see
And yet they are me, more than just a sign
Of something I feel, something I thought
They're a piece of myself that I brought
To fictional life with words that don't
Describe all that they are, nor all I am
Sometimes it feels like their identity hits me, unplanned
But then there's the sense it was always there
Was always here
Was always me-

Some characters scare me
Are they all pieces of myself?
Are they all mine? If they're mine are they me?
Do I have that darkness? Their darkness?
That light? Their light?
That hope? Their hope?
That despair? Their despair?
That love? Their love?
That hate? Their hate?
Is everyone so attached to their characters?
I feel their pain it makes me cry
I cry real tears in fake dreams
Fake stories with fake screams
If it's all so fake, then why?
So close, so near, and when they die...
Do I lose them? Do they live forever
Without ever living or do they die and
Pass away? Am I allowed to wonder such things, allowed to ponder?
One thing I know

[...] Read more

poem by David Knox
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Dongsky

1

IN America, you cannot hide your brown skin
and everything in you, Mr. Filipino connotes what it takes to be
humiliated and discriminated but you go beyond all these
in the name of the mighty green paper god,

the dollar i know you know
even without the essences of a metaphor

2

you can endure all the discrimination and the humiliation
for such lowly job as errand boy or whatever euphemism you may use there
like a sanitation engineer
for a garbage collector

but now

3

there is a little change as you emphatically try to hide
in the monotone of your voice
like a sleepy sea breeze

you got laid off due to that bad economy
creeping up like a black worm on the American white beer belly

a sucker, what do you call that really?
yes a leech, son of leeches, those crabs on the tin pail,
like what our corrupt politicians
feed us in our country

(where do we really have to go?
Dubai? again?)

4

you can endure them all, at whatever cost, to support a wife and daughter
here,
but now what you cannot endure is this
jobless state

5

now, you must go home, who knows, this is nothing but
a blessing in disguise.

i must be lucky somehow, i do not need much

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Paradise Lost: Book X

Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood
Praying, for from the Mercie-seat above
Prevenient Grace descending had remov'd
The stonie from thir hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerat grow instead, that sighs now breath'd
Unutterable, which the Spirit of prayer
Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heav'n with speedier flight
Then loudest Oratorie: yet thir port
Not of mean suiters, nor important less
Seem'd thir Petition, then when th' ancient Pair
In Fables old, less ancient yet then these,
Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha to restore
The Race of Mankind drownd, before the Shrine
Of Themis stood devout. To Heav'n thir prayers
Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious windes
Blow'n vagabond or frustrate: in they passd
Dimentionless through Heav'nly dores; then clad
With incense, where the Golden Altar fum'd,
By thir great Intercessor, came in sight
Before the Fathers Throne: Them the glad Son
Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See Father, what first fruits on Earth are sprung
From thy implanted Grace in Man, these Sighs
And Prayers, which in this Golden Censer, mixt
With Incense, I thy Priest before thee bring,
Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed
Sow'n with contrition in his heart, then those
Which his own hand manuring all the Trees
Of Paradise could have produc't, ere fall'n
From innocence. Now therefore bend thine eare
To supplication, heare his sighs though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let mee
Interpret for him, mee his Advocate
And propitiation, all his works on mee
Good or not good ingraft, my Merit those
Shall perfet, and for these my Death shall pay.
Accept me, and in mee from these receave
The smell of peace toward Mankinde, let him live
Before thee reconcil'd, at least his days
Numberd, though sad, till Death, his doom (which I
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse)
To better life shall yeeld him, where with mee
All my redeemd may dwell in joy and bliss,
Made one with me as I with thee am one.
To whom the Father, without Cloud, serene.
All thy request for Man, accepted Son,
Obtain, all thy request was my Decree:
But longer in that Paradise to dwell,
The Law I gave to Nature him forbids:
Those pure immortal Elements that know

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Paradise Lost: Book 11

Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn
From his displeasure; in whose look serene,
When angry most he seemed and most severe,
What else but favour, grace, and mercy, shone?
So spake our father penitent; nor Eve
Felt less remorse: they, forthwith to the place
Repairing where he judged them, prostrate fell
Before him reverent; and both confessed
Humbly their faults, and pardon begged; with tears
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek.
Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood
Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
Prevenient grace descending had removed
The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerate grow instead; that sighs now breathed
Unutterable; which the Spirit of prayer
Inspired, and winged for Heaven with speedier flight
Than loudest oratory: Yet their port
Not of mean suitors; nor important less
Seemed their petition, than when the ancient pair
In fables old, less ancient yet than these,
Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore
The race of mankind drowned, before the shrine
Of Themis stood devout. To Heaven their prayers
Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious winds
Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they passed
Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then clad
With incense, where the golden altar fumed,
By their great intercessour, came in sight
Before the Father's throne: them the glad Son
Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See$ Father, what first-fruits on earth are sprung
From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs
And prayers, which in this golden censer mixed
With incense, I thy priest before thee bring;
Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed
Sown with contrition in his heart, than those
Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees
Of Paradise could have produced, ere fallen
From innocence. Now therefore, bend thine ear
To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let me
Interpret for him; me, his advocate
And propitiation; all his works on me,
Good, or not good, ingraft; my merit those
Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay.
Accept me; and, in me, from these receive
The smell of peace toward mankind: let him live

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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The Remedy of Love

When Cupid read this title, straight he said,
'Wars, I perceive, against me will be made.'
But spare, oh Love! to tax thy poet so,
Who oft bath borne thy ensign 'gainst thy foe;
I am not he by whom thy mother bled,
When she to heaven on Mars his horses fled.
I oft, like other youths, thy flame did prove,
And if thou ask, what I do still? I love.
Nay, I have taught by art to keep Love's course,
And made that reason which before was force.
I seek not to betray thee, pretty boy,
Nor what I once have written to destroy.
If any love, and find his mistress kind,
Let him go on, and sail with his own wind;
But he that by his love is discontented,
To save his life my verses were invented.
Why should a lover kill himself? or why
Should any, with his own grief wounded, die?
Thou art a boy, to play becomes thee still,
Thy reign is soft; play then, and do not kill;
Or if thou'lt needs be vexing, then do this,
Make lovers meet by stealth, and steal a kiss
Make them to fear lest any overwatch them,
And tremble when they think some come to catch them;
And with those tears that lovers shed all night,
Be thou content, but do not kill outright.—
Love heard, and up his silver wings did heave,
And said, 'Write on; I freely give thee leave.'
Come then, all ye despised, that love endure,
I, that have felt the wounds, your love will cure;
But come at first, for if you make delay,
Your sickness will grow mortal by your stay:
The tree, which by delay is grown so big,
In the beginning was a tender twig;
That which at first was but a span in length,
Will, by delay, be rooted past men's strength.
Resist beginnings, medicines bring no curing
Where sickness is grown strong by long enduring.
When first thou seest a lass that likes thine eye,
Bend all thy present powers to descry
Whether her eye or carriage first would shew
If she be fit for love's delights or no:
Some will be easy, such an one elect;
But she that bears too grave and stern aspect,
Take heed of her, and make her not thy jewel,
Either she cannot love, or will be cruel.
If love assail thee there, betime take heed,
Those wounds are dangerous that inward bleed;
He that to-day cannot shake off love's sorrow,
Will certainly be more unapt to-morrow.

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poem by Francis Beaumont
Added by Poetry Lover
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