Quotes about languish, page 4
Oft have I vow'd
Oft have I vow'd how dearly I did love thee,
And oft observ'd thee with all willing duty,
Sighs I have sent, still hoping to remove thee:
Millions of tears I tender'd to thy beauty,
Yet thou of sighs and silly tears regardless,
Suff'rest my feeble heart to pine with anguish,
Whilst all my barren hopes return rewardless,
My bitter days do waste, and I do languish.
poem by John Wilbye
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Drink That Beer
In solitude
drown in emptiness
I languish in miseries
as life becomes meaningless
Pain sucks my soul
and enthuse self -pity
I reflect on the realities
found nothing but remorse
People come to console
yet they too have darkness
we all succumb to imperfections
as human beings we are vulnerable
At this hour
none is more helpful
but indulge consolation
so join me let's drink beer
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Warmth
When the sunlight comes shining through
the first thing I think of is you.
The warmth it brings as it touches my skin
is as exactly as you do.
To be carressed in abundant warmth
is a gift I treasure so.
And so I welcome the sunlight
and languish it wherever I go.
If I had my choice of sunlight or you,
you know which I would choose.
I'd rather be warm from you, my love
for with you I never lose
warmth.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Le Testament: Rondeau
Death, I cry out at your harshness,
That stole my girl away from me,
Yet you're not satisfied I see
Until I languish in distress.
Since then I've lost all liveliness:
What harm alive, to you, was she?
Death, I cry out at your harshness,
That stole my girl away from me.
Two we were, with one heart blessed:
If heart's dead, yes, then I foresee,
I'll die, or I must lifeless be,
Like those statues made of lead.
poem by François Villon
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Bonie Wee Thing, The
Chorus:- Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel it should tine.
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
[Chorus]
Wit and Grace, and Love, and Beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee in my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
[Chorus]
poem by Robert Burns
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The Bonie Wee Thing
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
[Chorus] Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel it should tine.
Wit and Grace, and Love, and Beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee in my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
[Chorus]
poem by Robert Burns
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Sheets of slow rain in Sligo
Drifting, drifting towards Dunmoran,
Benbulbin and Knocknarea,
darkening the bay of Ballisodare,
the wind sweeps howling,
wetting and dousing,
the mountain carpet.
With incessant rain
and sheep languish on Ladies Brae
with Yeats asleep,
and Mebdh at rest
upon the hillock Knocknarea,
howling like a banshee.
The poets bare Benbulbin
waits, calmly,
as a ghost ship in the bay.
With such beginnings
Noah went to work.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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Life's Greener Grass
Life abounds with a multitude of precipitous sides…
Some comfortable passages; other scurrilous rides.
Scenery may be beautiful or vengeful at will.
The treks can be smooth as glass or hiding a spill.
These insidious sides merely offer each one a chance
To languish on life's dance floor or arise and dance.
Love's indelible effect sweeps aside deleterious strife.
Then grass will always be greener on your side of life.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Living Dead
A chance to smile, a chance for fun
Lost by anyone
Who misses the train as it pulls away
For a better time, a better day.
These living dead do breathe and move,
But spirit and soul long ago died.
They labor and languish tryng to prove
That their living death is justified.
In place of joy and hope in their life,
They worship wealth and power.
They died for these monsters of strife,
Which consume their every hour.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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In The Blanket
The night is waning, consuming itself,
All residents of the world,
Are latent, resting their heads
Upon the arms but here far away from her
I weep holding the hem of her recollections.
She might be sleeping unruffled,
Dishevelling hair upon her shoulders
Placing her head upon the beloved chest,
And snuggling in the blanket of someone.
Then why should I blubber sobbingly,
And languish and pine away for nothing.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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