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Best Famous Jealousy Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Jealousy poems. This is a select list of the best famous Jealousy poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Jealousy poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of jealousy poems.

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See also: Best Member Poems

by Petrarch | |

SONNET CLXXXVI.

SONNET CLXXXVI.

Liete e pensose, accompagnate e sole.

NOT FINDING HER WITH HER FRIENDS, HE ASKS THEM WHY SHE IS ABSENT.

P.
       Pensive and glad, accompanied, alone,
Ladies who cheat the time with converse gay,
Where does my life, where does my death delay?
Why not with you her form, as usual, shown?
L.
   Glad are we her rare lustre to have known,
And sad from her dear company to stay,
Which jealousy and envy keep away
O'er other's bliss, as their own ill who moan.
P.
   Who lovers can restrain, or give them law?
L.
   No one the soul, harshness and rage the frame;
As erst in us, this now in her appears.
As oft the face, betrays the heart, we saw
Clouds that, obscuring her high beauty, came,
And in her eyes the dewy trace of tears.
Macgregor.


by Petrarch | |

SONNET XCII.

SONNET XCII.

In mezzo di duo amanti onesta altera.

LAURA TURNING TO SALUTE HIM, THE SUN, THROUGH JEALOUSY, WITHDREW BEHIND A CLOUD.

'Tween two fond lovers I a lady spied,
Virtuous but haughty, and with her that lord,
By gods above and men below adored—
The sun on this, myself upon that side—
Soon as she found herself the sphere denied
Of her bright friend, on my fond eyes she pour'd
A flood of life and joy, which hope restored
Less cold to me will be her future pride.
Suddenly changed itself to cordial mirth
The jealous fear to which at his first sight
So high a rival in my heart gave birth;
As suddenly his sad and rueful plight
[Pg 107]From further scrutiny a small cloud veil'd,
So much it ruffled him that then he fail'd.
Macgregor.


by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | |

The Other Side of a Mirror

 I sat before my glass one day, 
And conjured up a vision bare, 
Unlike the aspects glad and gay, 
That erst were found reflected there - 
The vision of a woman, wild 
With more than womanly despair.
Her hair stood back on either side A face bereft of loveliness.
It had no envy now to hide What once no man on earth could guess.
It formed the thorny aureole Of hard, unsanctified distress.
Her lips were open - not a sound Came though the parted lines of red, Whate'er it was, the hideous wound In silence and secret bled.
No sigh relieved her speechless woe, She had no voice to speak her dread.
And in her lurid eyes there shone The dying flame of life's desire, Made mad because its hope was gone, And kindled at the leaping fire Of jealousy and fierce revenge, And strength that could not change nor tire.
Shade of a shadow in the glass, O set the crystal surface free! Pass - as the fairer visions pass - Nor ever more return, to be The ghost of a distracted hour, That heard me whisper: - 'I am she!'


More great poems below...

by Christopher Marlowe | |

Lament for Zenocrate

 Black is the beauty of the brightest day,
The golden belle of heaven's eternal fire,
That danced with glory on the silver waves,
Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams:
And all with faintness and for foul disgrace,
He binds his temples with a frowning cloud,
Ready to darken earth with endless night:
Zenocrate that gave him light and life,
Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers,
And tempered every soul with lively heat,
Now by the malice of the angry skies,
Whose jealousy admits no second mate,
Draws in the comfort of her latest breath
All dazzled with the hellish mists of death.
Now walk the angels on the walls of heaven, As sentinels to warn th'immortal souls, To entertain divine Zenocrate.
Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps That gently looked upon this loathsome earth, Shine downwards now no more, but deck the heavens To entertain divine Zenocrate.
The crystal springs whose taste illuminates Refined eyes with an eternal sight, Like tried silver runs through Paradise To entertain divine Zenocrate.
The Cherubins and holy Seraphins That sing and play before the King of Kings, Use all their voices and their instruments To entertain divine Zenocrate.
And in this sweet and curious harmony, The God that tunes this music to our souls, Holds out his hand in highest majesty To entertain divine Zenocrate.
Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts, Up to the palace of th'imperial heaven: That this my life may be as short to me As are the days of sweet Zenocrate.


by Christopher Marlowe | |

Lament for Zenocrate

 Black is the beauty of the brightest day,
The golden belle of heaven's eternal fire,
That danced with glory on the silver waves,
Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams:
And all with faintness and for foul disgrace,
He binds his temples with a frowning cloud,
Ready to darken earth with endless night:
Zenocrate that gave him light and life,
Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers,
And tempered every soul with lively heat,
Now by the malice of the angry skies,
Whose jealousy admits no second mate,
Draws in the comfort of her latest breath
All dazzled with the hellish mists of death.
Now walk the angels on the walls of heaven, As sentinels to warn th'immortal souls, To entertain divine Zenocrate.
Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps That gently looked upon this loathsome earth, Shine downwards now no more, but deck the heavens To entertain divine Zenocrate.
The crystal springs whose taste illuminates Refined eyes with an eternal sight, Like tried silver runs through Paradise To entertain divine Zenocrate.
The Cherubins and holy Seraphins That sing and play before the King of Kings, Use all their voices and their instruments To entertain divine Zenocrate.
And in this sweet and curious harmony, The God that tunes this music to our souls, Holds out his hand in highest majesty To entertain divine Zenocrate.
Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts, Up to the palace of th'imperial heaven: That this my life may be as short to me As are the days of sweet Zenocrate.


by Alexander Pushkin | |

I loved you...

 I loved you, and I probably still do,
And for a while the feeling may remain.
.
.
But let my love no longer trouble you, I do not wish to cause you any pain.
I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew, The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain - Made up a love so tender and so true As may God grant you to be loved again.
Translated by Genia Gurarie, 11/10/95 Copyright retained by Genia Gurarie.
email: egurarie@princeton.
edu http://www.
princeton.
edu/~egurarie/ For permission to reproduce, write personally to the translator.


by Craig Raine | |

An Attempt At Jealousy

 So how is life with your new bloke?
Simpler, I bet.
Just one stroke of his quivering oar and the skin of the Thames goes into a spin, eh? How is life with an oarsman? Better? More in--out? Athletic? Wetter? When you hear the moan of the rowlocks, do you urge him on like a cox? Tell me, is he bright enough to find that memo-pad you call a mind? Or has he contrived to bring you out-- given you an in-tray and an out? How did I ever fall for a paper-clip? How could I ever listen to office gossip even in bed and find it so intelligent? Was is straight biological bent? I suppose you go jogging together? Tackle the Ridgeway in nasty weather? Face force 55 gales and chat about prep or how you bested that Birmingham rep? He must be mad with excitement.
So must you.
What an incitement to lust all those press-ups must be.
Or is it just the same? PE? Tell me, I'm curious.
Is it fun being in love with just anyone? How do you remember his face if you meet in a public place? Perhaps you know him by his shoes? Or do you sometimes choose another pinstriped clone by accident and drag that home instead? From what you say, he's perfect.
For a Chekhov play.
Tall and dark and brightly dim, Kulygin's part was made for him.
Imagine your life with a 'beak'.
Week after week after week like homework or detention; all that standing to attention whenever his colleagues drop in for a spot of what's-your-toxin.
Speech Day, matron, tuck-shop, Christ, you'll find school fees are over-priced and leave, but not come back to me.
You've done your bit for poetry.
Words, or deeds? You'll stick to youth.
I'm a stickler for the truth-- which makes me wonder what it was I loved you for.
Tell me, because now I feel nothing--except regret.
What is it, love, I need to forget?


by William Strode | |

On Jealousy

 There is a thing that nothing is,
A foolish wanton, sober wise;
It hath noe wings, noe eyes, noe eares,
And yet it flies, it sees, it heares;
It lives by losse, it feeds on smart,
It joyes in woe, it liveth not;
Yet evermore this hungry elfe
Doth feed on nothing but itselfe.


by John Wilmot | |

The Mistress

 An age in her embraces passed
Would seem a winter's day;
When life and light, with envious haste,
Are torn and snatched away.
But, oh! how slowly minutes roll.
When absent from her eyes That feed my love, which is my soul, It languishes and dies.
For then no more a soul but shade It mournfully does move And haunts my breast, by absence made The living tomb of love.
You wiser men despise me not, Whose love-sick fancy raves On shades of souls and Heaven knows what; Short ages live in graves.
Whene'er those wounding eyes, so full Of sweetness, you did see, Had you not been profoundly dull, You had gone mad like me.
Nor censure us, you who perceive My best beloved and me Sign and lament, complain and grieve; You think we disagree.
Alas, 'tis sacred jealousy, Love raised to an extreme; The only proof 'twixt her and me, We love, and do not dream.
Fantastic fancies fondly move And in frail joys believe, Taking false pleasure for true love; But pain can ne'er deceive.
Kind jealous doubts, tormenting fears, And anxious cares when past, Prove our heart's treasure fixed and dear, And make us blessed at last.


by Robert William Service | |

Fulfilment

 I sing of starry dreams come true,
 Of hopes fulfilled;
Of rich reward beyond my due,
 Of harvest milled.
The full fruition of the years Is mine to hold, And in despite of toil and tears The sun is gold.
I have no hate for any one On this good earth; My days of hardihood are done, And hushed my hearth.
No echo of a world afar Can trouble me; Above a grove the evening star Serene I see.
No jealousy nor passion base Can irk me now; Recieved am I unto God's grace With tranquil brow.
Adieu to love I have and hold, Farewell to friend; In peace and faith my hands I fold And wait the end.


by Isaac Watts | |

Psalm 101

 The magistrate's Psalm.
Mercy and judgment are my song; And since they both to thee belong, My gracious God, my righteous King, To thee my songs and vows I bring.
If I am raised to bear the sword, I'll take my counsels from thy word; Thy justice and thy heav'nly grace Shall be the pattern of my ways.
Let wisdom all my actions guide, And let my God with me reside; No wicked thing shall dwell with me Which may provoke thy jealousy.
No sons of slander, rage, and strife Shall be companions of my life; The haughty look, the heart of pride, Within my doors shall ne'er abide.
[I'll search the land, and raise the just To posts of honor, wealth, and trust; The men that work thy holy will Shall be my friends and fav'rites still.
] In vain shall sinners hope to rise By flatt'ring or malicious lies; And while the innocent I guard, The bold offender sha'n't be spared.
The impious crew, that factious band, Shall hide their heads or quit the land; And all that break the public rest, Where I have power, shall be suppressed.


by Isaac Watts | |

Hymn 166

 The Divine Perfections.
How shall I praise th' eternal God, That infinite Unknown? Who can ascend his high abode, Or venture near his throne? [The great Invisible! he dwells Concealed in dazzling light; But his all-searching eye reveals The secrets of the night.
Those watchful eyes that never sleep Survey the world around His wisdom is a boundless deep Where all our thoughts are drowned.
] [Speak we of strength? his arm is strong To save or to destroy; Infinite years his life prolong, And endless is his joy.
] [He knows no shadow of a change Nor alters his decrees; Firm as a rock his truth remains To guard his promises.
] [Sinners before his presence die; How holy is his name! His anger and his jealousy Burn like devouring flame.
] Justice upon a dreadful throne Maintains the rights of God; While Mercy sends her pardons down, Bought with a Savior's blood.
Now to my soul, immortal King! Speak some forgiving word; Then 'twill be double joy to sing The glories of my Lord.


by Isaac Watts | |

Hymn 167

 The Divine Perfections.
Great God! thy glories shall employ My holy fear, my humble joy; My lips in songs of honor bring Their tribute to th' eternal King.
[Earth, and the stars, and worlds unknown, Depend precarious on his throne; All nature hangs upon his word, And grace and glory own their Lord.
] [His sovereign power what mortal knows? If be command, who dares oppose? With strength he girds himself around, And treads the rebels to the ground.
] [Who shall pretend to teach him skill, Or guide the counsels of his will? His wisdom, like a sea divine, Flows deep and high beyond our line.
] [His name is holy, and his eye Burns with immortal jealousy He hates the sons of pride, and sheds His fiery vengeance on their heads.
] [The beaming of his piercing sight Bring dark hypocrisy to light; Death and destruction naked lie, And hell uncovered to his eye.
] [Th' eternal law before him stands; His justice, with impartial hands, Divides to all their due reward, Or by the sceptre or the sword.
] [His mercy, like a boundless sea, Washes our load of guilt away; While his own Son came down and died T' engage his justice on our side.
] [Each of his words demands my faith; My soul can rest on all he saith; His truth inviolably keeps The largest promise of his lips.
] O tell me, with a gentle voice, "Thou art my God," and I'll rejoice! Filled with thy love, I dare proclaim The brightest honors of thy name.


by Ellis Parker Butler | |

Partners

 Love took chambers on our street
 Opposite to mine;
On his door he tacked a neat,
 Clearly lettered sign.
Straightway grew his custom great, For his sign read so: “Hearts united while you wait.
Step in.
Love and Co.
” Much I wondered who was “Co.
” In Love’s partnership; Thought across the street I’d go— Learn from Love’s own lip.
So I went; and since that day Life is hard for me.
I was buncoed! (By the way, “Co.
” is Jealousy.
)


by Anne Kingsmill Finch | |

Jealousy

 VAIN Love, why do'st thou boast of Wings, 
That cannot help thee to retire! 
When such quick Flames Suspicion brings, 
As do the Heart about thee fire.
Still Swift to come, but when to go Thou shou'd'st be more–Alas! how Slow.
Lord of the World must surely be But thy bare Title at the most; Since Jealousy is Lord of Thee, And makes such Havock on thy Coast, As do's thy pleasant Land deface, Yet binds thee faster to the Place.


by Mary Darby Robinson | |

Sonnet VI: Is It to Love

 Is it to love, to fix the tender gaze,
To hide the timid blush, and steal away;
To shun the busy world, and waste the day
In some rude mountain's solitary maze?
Is it to chant one name in ceaseless lays,
To hear no words that other tongues can say,
To watch the pale moon's melancholy ray,
To chide in fondness, and in folly praise?
Is it to pour th' involuntary sigh,
To dream of bliss, and wake new pangs to prove;
To talk, in fancy, with the speaking eye,
Then start with jealousy, and wildly rove;
Is it to loathe the light, and wish to die?
For these I feel,--and feel that they are Love.


by George Meredith | |

Modern Love XIV: What Soul Would Bargain

 What soul would bargain for a cure that brings
Contempt the nobler agony to kill?
Rather let me bear on the bitter ill,
And strike this rusty bosom with new stings!
It seems there is another veering fit
Since on a gold-haired lady's eyeballs pure,
I looked with little prospect of a cure,
The while her mouth's red bow loosed shafts of wit.
Just heaven! can it be true that jealousy Has decked the woman thus? and does her head Swim somewhat for possessions forfeited? Madam, you teach me many things that be.
I open an old book, and there I find That "Women still may love whom they deceive.
" Such love I prize not, madam: by your leave, The game you play at is not to my mind.


by George Meredith | |

Modern Love: XIV

 What soul would bargain for a cure that brings
Contempt the nobler agony to kill?
Rather let me bear on the bitter ill,
And strike this rusty bosom with new stings!
It seems there is another veering fit
Since on a gold-haired lady's eyeballs pure,
I looked with little prospect of a cure,
The while her mouth's red bow loosed shafts of wit.
Just heaven! can it be true that jealousy Has decked the woman thus? and does her head Swim somewhat for possessions forfeited? Madam, you teach me many things that be.
I open an old book, and there I find That "Women still may love whom they deceive.
" Such love I prize not, madam: by your leave, The game you play at is not to my mind.


by Alan Seeger | |

Sonnet 10

 I have sought Happiness, but it has been 
A lovely rainbow, baffling all pursuit, 
And tasted Pleasure, but it was a fruit 
More fair of outward hue than sweet within.
Renouncing both, a flake in the ferment Of battling hosts that conquer or recoil, There only, chastened by fatigue and toil, I knew what came the nearest to content.
For there at least my troubled flesh was free From the gadfly Desire that plagued it so; Discord and Strife were what I used to know, Heartaches, deception, murderous jealousy; By War transported far from all of these, Amid the clash of arms I was at peace.


by Li Po | |

Song Of The Jade Cup

 A jade cup was broken because old age came
too soon to give fulfilment to hopes; after drinking
three cups of wine I wiped my sword and
started to dance under an autumn moon first
singing in a high voice then unable to halt
tears coming; I remember the day when first
I was summoned to court and I was feasted splendidly
writing poems in praise of the Emperor, making
jokes with officials around several times changing
my horse, taking the best from the
imperial stables; with my whip studded with
jade and coral presented to me by the Emperor,
my life was free and easy, people calling me
the "Banished Immortal.
" Hsi Shih was good at smiling as well as frowning, useless for ordinary girls to try and imitate her.
Surely it was only her loveliness the king adored, but unfortunately jealousy within the palace led to her death.


by Kahlil Gibran | |

Song of Love XXIV

 I am the lover's eyes, and the spirit's 
Wine, and the heart's nourishment.
I am a rose.
My heart opens at dawn and The virgin kisses me and places me Upon her breast.
I am the house of true fortune, and the Origin of pleasure, and the beginning Of peace and tranquility.
I am the gentle Smile upon his lips of beauty.
When youth Overtakes me he forgets his toil, and his Whole life becomes reality of sweet dreams.
I am the poet's elation, And the artist's revelation, And the musician's inspiration.
I am a sacred shrine in the heart of a Child, adored by a merciful mother.
I appear to a heart's cry; I shun a demand; My fullness pursues the heart's desire; It shuns the empty claim of the voice.
I appeared to Adam through Eve And exile was his lot; Yet I revealed myself to Solomon, and He drew wisdom from my presence.
I smiled at Helena and she destroyed Tarwada; Yet I crowned Cleopatra and peace dominated The Valley of the Nile.
I am like the ages -- building today And destroying tomorrow; I am like a god, who creates and ruins; I am sweeter than a violet's sigh; I am more violent than a raging tempest.
Gifts alone do not entice me; Parting does not discourage me; Poverty does not chase me; Jealousy does not prove my awareness; Madness does not evidence my presence.
Oh seekers, I am Truth, beseeching Truth; And your Truth in seeking and receiving And protecting me shall determine my Behavior.


by Robert Graves | |

Symptoms of Love

 Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.
Symptoms of true love Are leanness, jealousy, Laggard dawns; Are omens and nightmares - Listening for a knock, Waiting for a sign: For a touch of her fingers In a darkened room, For a searching look.
Take courage, lover! Could you endure such pain At any hand but hers?


by John Berryman | |

Dream Song 26: The glories of the world struck me

 The glories of the world struck me, made me aria, once.
—What happen then, Mr Bones? if be you cares to say.
—Henry.
Henry became interested in women's bodies, his loins were & were the scene of stupendous achievement.
Stupor.
Knees, dear.
Pray.
All the knobs & softnesses of, my God, the ducking & trouble it swarm on Henry, at one time.
—What happen then, Mr Bones? you seems excited-like.
—Fell Henry back into the original crime: art, rime besides a sense of others, my God, my God, and a jealousy for the honour (alive) of his country, what can get more odd? and discontent with the thriving gangs & pride.
—What happen then, Mr Bones? —I had a most marvellous piece of luck.
I died.


by William Blake | |

My Pretty Rose Tree

 A flower was offered to me;
Such a flower as May never bore.
But I said I've a Pretty Rose-tree.
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.
Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree: To tend her by day and by night.
But my Rose turnd away with jealousy: And her thorns were my only delight.


by William Blake | |

Earths Answer

 Earth raised up her head.
From the darkness dread & drear, Her light fled: Stony dread! And her locks cover'd with grey despair.
Prison'd on watery shore Starry Jealousy does keep my den Cold and hoar Weeping o'er I hear the father of the ancient men Selfish father of men Cruel jealous selfish fear Can delight Chain'd in night The virgins of youth and morning bear.
Does spring hide its joy When buds and blossoms grow? Does the sower? Sow by night? Or the ploughman in darkness plough? Break this heavy chain.
That does freeze my bones around Selfish! vain! Eternal bane! That free Love with bondage bound.