Song of Wandering Aengus, W.B. Yeats
The Song of Songs, King Solomon (excerpts)
Come My Beloved, Rumi
Fiesta in a Garden, Abu l-Qasim ibn al-Saqqat
To Celia, Ben Jonson
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love, Christopher Marlowe
Marble Halls, Alfred Bunn
Sonnets 38 and 43 from The Portuguese, Elizabeth B. Browning
As Time Goes By, Herman Hupfeld
Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off, George and Ira Gershwin
Baby It’s Cold Outside, Frank Loesser
They Can’t Take That Away From Me, George and Ira Gershwin
When You Are Old, William B. Yeats
* * *
Sonnet 15, William Shakespeare
Sonnet XI, Pablo Neruda
The Nymph’s Reply, Sir Walter Raleigh
The Highwayman, Alfred Noyes
Some Kiss We Want, Rumi
Song of Wandering Aengus
by W.B. Yaets
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
The Songs of Songs (excerpts)
by King Solomon
(translation)
Chapter 2 – Feminine Voice/Masculine Voice
(feminine voice)
The voice of my love: listen!
Bounding over the mountains
toward me, across the hills.
And he calls me:
(masculine voice)
Hurry, my love, my friend,
and come away!
Look, winter is over,
the rains are done,
wildflowers spring up in the fields.
Hurry, my love, my friend
come away.
My dove in the clefts of the rock,
in the shadow of the cliff;
Let me see you; all of you!
Let me hear your voice,
your delicious song.
I love to look at you.
(feminine voice)
My beloved is mine and I am his.
The shepherd among the lilies.
Chapter 4 – The Masculine Voice
How beautiful you are, my love,
my friend! The doves of your eyes
looking out
from the thicket of your hair.
Your hair
like a flock of goats
bounding down Mount Gilead.
Your teeth, white ewes,
all alike,
that come up fresh from the pond.
A crimson ribbon, your lips —
how I listen for your voice!
The curve of your cheek,
a pomegranate
in the thicket of your hair.
Your neck is a tower of David
raised in splendor,
a thousand bucklers hang upon it,
all the shields of the warriors.
Your breasts are two fawns,
twins of gazelle,
grazing in a field of lilies.
Before day breathes,
before the shadows of night are gone,
I will hurry to the mountain of myrrh,
the hill of frankincense.
You are all beautiful, my love,
my perfect one.
You have ravished my heart,
my sister, my bride,
ravished me with one glance of your eyes,
one link of your necklace.
Come My Beloved (translation)
by Rumi
Come my beloved
Come my sweetheart
Come, come, come ..
Don’t talk about the journey
Say no more of the path
The path one must take.
You are my path
You are my journey
Come, come, come..
You stole from this earth
A bouquet of roses
I am hidden in that bouquet
Come, come, come..
As long as I am sober
And keep talking about good and bad
I am missing the important event
Seeing your face
Come, come, come..
I must be a fool
Missing this life,
If I don’t cast my mind
In the fire of love
Come, come, come.
Fiesta In a Garden*
by Abu l-Qasim ibn-Saqqat
(translated by Cola Franzen)
In the morning dark
feelings of desire
whirled round us, spheres
of dalliance and pleasure.
We were in a garden.
A cloud armed with a steely
sword of lighting
poured out the morning’s drink
Red wine, then mounds of myrtle
for our pillows.
We looked like kings
on our green thrones.
Love was stringing beads
for our merrymaking.
We were the pearls
endearing words the strands.
Young woman with lance-like breasts
attacked us, provoking us to war.
To defend ourselves
we wore no other armor
than our capes of fur.
Delicious faces were uncovered for us:
white moons
amid the night, of black braids.
* Used with the kind permission of its translator, Cola Franzen. This poem and other Arabic poems from al-Andalus can be found in Poems of Arab Andalusia, by Cola Franzen (City Lights Publisher, 1990), copyright Cola Franzen.
To Celia
by Ben Jonson
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent’st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.
The Passionate Shepherd To His Love
by Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come, live with me, and be my love . . . .
Marble Halls
by Alfred Bunn
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
with vassals and serfs at my side,
and of all those assembled within those walls,
that I was their hope and their pride.
I had riches all too great to count
and a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt (which pleased me most)
that you loved me still the same,
that you loved me,
you love me, still the same,
that you loved me,
you loved me, still the same.
I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
that knights upon bended knee
and with vows no maiden’s heart could withstand,
they pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt (which charmed me most)
that you loved me still the same
that you loved me
you loved me, still the same,
that you loved me
you loved me, still the same.
Sonnets 38 and 43 From the Portuguese
by Elizabeth B. Browning
Sonnet 38
First time he kissed me, he but only kiss’d
The fingers of this hand, wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and light,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its “Oh, list,”
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss! The second pass’d in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half miss’d,
Half falling on the hair. Oh, 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!
Sonnet 43
How do I love thee, Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
As Time Goes By
by Herman Hupfeld
You should get the text from another source.
Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off
by George and Ira Gershwin
You should get the text from another source.
Baby It’s Cold Outside
by Frank Loesser
You should get the text from another source.
They Can’t Take that Away From Me
by George and Ira Gershwin
You should get the text from another source.
When You Are Old
by William B. Yeats
When you are old, and gray, and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty, with love false or true
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.