Fear poems
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Astrophel and Stella: Eleuenth Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Who is it that this darke night,Vnderneath my window playneth?It is one who from thy sight,Being (ah) exild, disdaynethEuery other vulgar light
Astrophel and Stella: Eight Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
In a groue most rich of shade,Where birds wanton musicke made,May then yong his pide weedes showing,New perfumed with flowers fresh growing, Astrophel with Stella sweete,Did for mutuall comfort meet,Both within themselues oppressed,But each in the other blessed
Astrophel and Stella: 72
© Sir Philip Sidney
Desire, though thou my old companion art,And oft so clings to my pure Loue, that IOne from the other scarcely can descrie,While each doth blow the fiere of my hart;Now from thy fellowship I needs must part,Venus is taught with Dians wings to flie:I must no more in thy sweet passions lie;Vertues gold now must head my Cupids dart
The LORD Is My Shepherd
© The Bible
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
Song of Solomon
© The Bible
22:001:004 Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into
his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will
remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee.
Astrophel and Stella: 49
© Sir Philip Sidney
I on my horse, and Loue on me doth trieOur horsemanships, while by strange worke I proueA horseman to my horse, a horse to Loue;And now mans wrongs in me poore beast descrie
God's Mercy
© The Bible
“As a father shows mercy to his sons,
Jehovah has shown mercy to those fearing him.
For he himself well knows the formation of us,
Remembering that we are dust.”—Ps. 103:13, 14.
Astrophel and Stella: 17
© Sir Philip Sidney
His mother deare Cupid offended late,Because that Mars growne slacker in her loue,With pricking shot he did not througly moue,To keepe the pace of their louing state
Astrophel and Stella: 14
© Sir Philip Sidney
Alas haue I not paine ynough my friend,Vpon whose breast a fiercer Grype doth tire,Then did on him who first stale downe the fire,While Loue on me doth all his quiuer spend,But with your Rubarb words ye must contend,To grieue me worse, in saying that DesireDoth plunge my wel-form'd soule euen in the mireOf sinfull thoughts, which do in ruine end?If that be sinne which doth the maners frame,Well staid with truth in word and faith of deed,Readie of wit and fearing nought but shame:If that be sinne which in fixt hearts doth breedA loathing of all loose vnchastitie,Then Loue is sinne, and let me sinfull be
Astrophel and Stella: 6
© Sir Philip Sidney
Some Louers speake when they their Muses entertaine,Of hopes begot by feare, of wot not what desires:Of force of heau'nly beames, infusing hellish paine:Of liuing deaths, deare wounds, faire stormes and freshing fires
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When I have seen by time's fell hand defaced
© William Shakespeare
When I have seen by time's fell hand defacedThe rich proud cost of outworn buried age;When sometime lofty towers I see down razedAnd brass eternal slave to mortal rage;When I have seen the hungry ocean gainAdvantage on the kingdom of the shore,And the firm soil win of the watery main,Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;When I have seen such interchange of state,Or state it self confounded to decay,Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminateThat time will come and take my love away
Shakespeare's Sonnets: What potions have I drunk of siren tears
© William Shakespeare
What potions have I drunk of siren tearsDistill'd from limbecks foul as hell within,Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,Still losing when I saw my self to win?What wretched errors hath my heart committedWhil'st it hath thought it self so blessèd never?How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fittedIn the distraction of this madding fever?O benefit of ill, now I find trueThat better is by evil still made better,And ruin'd love when it is built anewGrows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse
© William Shakespeare
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,Bound for the prize of (all too precious) you,That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write,Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?No, neither he, nor his compeers by nightGiving him aid, my verse astonishèd
Shakespeare's Sonnets: To me, fair friend, you never can be old
© William Shakespeare
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,For as you were when first your eye I eyed,Such seems your beauty still: three winters coldHave from the forests shook three summers' pride,Three beaut'ous springs to yellow autumn turn'dIn process of the seasons have I seen
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Those lines that I before have writ do lie
© William Shakespeare
Those lines that I before have writ do lie,Ev'n those that said I could not love you dearer,Yet then my judgement knew no reason whyMy most full flame should afterwards burn clearer
Shakespeare's Sonnets: The forward violet thus did I chide
© William Shakespeare
The forward violet thus did I chide,Sweet thief, whence did'st thou steal thy sweet that smellsIf not from my love's breath? The purple prideWhich on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells?In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed,The lily I condemnèd for thy hand,And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair,The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,Our blushing shame, an other white despair:A third nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,And to his robb'ry had annex't thy breath,But for his theft in pride of all his growthA vengeful canker ate him up to death
