Best Famous Disengage Poems

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

Search and read the best famous Disengage poems, articles about Disengage poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Disengage poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

• All Famous Disengage Poems

Written by Luis G. Dato | Pagan Passion I am sweetly perplexed by love sallies, releases, By the countless retreats and the numberless captures, By the petulant coldness and agreeable raptures, By the whisper of phrases that hurts and then pleases, I am drunk by the prodigal total of leases From her body and spirit, her soul and her senses, I revel in approaches and artless offenses, In her challenging taunts and her tenderly teases. Now will I disengage a red flower from her tresses, And uplift her lithe form from a divan of roses, For the zephyr of night too much passion opposes, And in delicate folds now has rumpled her dresses. On tomorrow’s new ventures the heart eager presses, I repose now to ponder on life-soothing losses.

Written by Robert Browning | Any Wife To Any Husband I My love, this is the bitterest, that thou Who art all truth and who dost love me now As thine eyes say, as thy voice breaks to say— Shouldst love so truly and couldst love me still A whole long life through, had but love its will, Would death that leads me from thee brook delay! II I have but to be by thee, and thy hand Would never let mine go, thy heart withstand The beating of my heart to reach its place. When should I look for thee and feel thee gone? When cry for the old comfort and find none? Never, I know! Thy soul is in thy face. III Oh, I should fade—'tis willed so! might I save, Galdly I would, whatever beauty gave Joy to thy sense, for that was precious too. It is not to be granted. But the soul Whence the love comes, all ravage leaves that whole; Vainly the flesh fades—soul makes all things new. IV And 'twould not be because my eye grew dim Thou couldst not find the love there, thanks to Him Who never is dishonoured in the spark He gave us from his fire of fires, and bade Remember whence it sprang nor be afraid While that burns on, though all the rest grow dark. V So, how thou wouldst be perfect, white and clean Outside as inside, soul and soul's demesne Alike, this body given to show it by! Oh, three-parts through the worst of life's abyss, What plaudits from the next world after this, Couldst thou repeat a stroke and gain the sky! VI And is it not the bitterer to think That, disengage our hands and thou wilt sink Although thy love was love in very deed? I know that nature! Pass a festive day Thou dost not throw its relic-flower away Nor bid its music's loitering echo speed. VII Thou let'st the stranger's glove lie where it fell; If old things remain old things all is well, For thou art grateful as becomes man best: And hadst thou only heard me play one tune, Or viewed me from a window, not so soon With thee would such things fade as with the rest. VIII I seem to see! we meet and part: 'tis brief: The book I opened keeps a folded leaf, The very chair I sat on, breaks the rank; That is a portrait of me on the wall— Three lines, my face comes at so slight a call; And for all this, one little hour's to thank. IX But now, because the hour through years was fixed, Because our inmost beings met amd mixed, Because thou once hast loved me—wilt thou dare Say to thy soul and Who may list beside, "Therefore she is immortally my bride, Chance cannot change that love, nor time impair. X "So, what if in the dusk of life that's left, I, a tired traveller, of my sun bereft, Look from my path when, mimicking the same, The fire-fly glimpses past me, come and gone? - Where was it till the sunset? where anon It will be at the sunrise! what's to blame?" XI Is it so helpful to thee? canst thou take The mimic up, nor, for the true thing's sake, Put gently by such efforts at at beam? Is the remainder of the way so long Thou need'st the little solace, thou the strong? Watch out thy watch, let weak ones doze and dream! XII "—Ah, but the fresher faces! Is it true," Thou'lt ask, "some eyes are beautiful and new? Some hair,—how can one choose but grasp such wealth? And if a man would press his lips to lips Fresh as the wilding hedge-rose-cup there slips The dew-drop out of, must it be by stealth? XIII "It cannot change the love kept still for Her, Much more than, such a picture to prefer Passing a day with, to a room's bare side. The painted form takes nothing she possessed, Yet while the Titian's Venus lies at rest A man looks. Once more, what is there to chide?" XIV So must I see, from where I sit and watch, My own self sell myself, my hand attach Its warrant to the very thefts from me— Thy singleness of soul that made me proud, Thy purity of heart I loved aloud, Thy man's truth I was bold to bid God see! XV Love so, then, if thou wilt! Give all thou canst Away to the new faces—disentranced— (Say it and think it) obdurate no more, Re-issue looks and words from the old mint— Pass them afresh, no matter whose the print Image and superscription once they bore! XVI Re-coin thyself and give it them to spend,— It all comes to the same thing at the end, Since mine thou wast, mine art, and mine shalt be, Faithful or faithless, sealing up the sum Or lavish of my treasure, thou must come Back to the heart's place here I keep for thee! XVII Only, why should it be with stain at all? Why must I, 'twixt the leaves of coronal, Put any kiss of pardon on thy brow? Why need the other women know so much And talk together, "Such the look and such The smile he used to love with, then as now!" XVIII Might I die last and shew thee! Should I find Such hardship in the few years left behind, If free to take and light my lamp, and go Into thy tomb, and shut the door and sit Seeing thy face on those four sides of it The better that they are so blank, I know! XIX Why, time was what I wanted, to turn o'er Within my mind each look, get more and more By heart each word, too much to learn at first, And join thee all the fitter for the pause 'Neath the low door-way's lintel. That were cause For lingering, though thou called'st, If I durst! XX And yet thou art the nobler of us two. What dare I dream of, that thou canst not do, Outstripping my ten small steps with one stride? I'll say then, here's a trial and a task— Is it to bear?—if easy, I'll not ask— Though love fail, I can trust on in thy pride. XXI Pride?—when those eyes forestall the life behind The death I have to go through!—when I find, Now that I want thy help most, all of thee! What did I fear? Thy love shall hold me fast Until the little minute's sleep is past And I wake saved.—And yet, it will not be!

Written by Yves Bonnefoy | Passer-By These Are Words Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading I want you to listen: to this frail Voice like that of letters eaten by grass. Lend an ear, hear first of all the happy bee Foraging in our almost rubbed-out names. It flits between two sprays of leaves, Carrying the sound of branches that are real To those that filigree the still unseen. Then know an even fainter sound, and let it be The endless murmuring of all our shades. Their whisper rises from beneath the stones To fuse into a single heat with that blind Light you are as yet, who can still gaze. May your listening be good! Silence Is a threshold where a twig breaks in your hand, Imperceptibly, as you attempt to disengage A name upon a stone: And so our absent names untangle your alarms. And for you who move away, pensively, Here becomes there without ceasing to be.

Written by Amy Lowell | Leisure Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone age, When hours were long and days sufficed to hold Wide-eyed delights and pleasures uncontrolled By shortening moments, when no gaunt presage Of undone duties, modern heritage, Haunted our happy minds; must thou withhold Thy presence from this over-busy world, And bearing silence with thee disengage Our twined fortunes? Deeps of unhewn woods Alone can cherish thee, alone possess Thy quiet, teeming vigor. This our crime: Not to have worshipped, marred by alien moods That sole condition of all loveliness, The dreaming lapse of slow, unmeasured time.

Written by Francesco Petrarch | Sonnet CLXIII SONNET CLXIII. L' aura serena che fra verdi fronde. THE GENTLE BREEZE (L' AURA) RECALLS TO HIM THE TIME WHEN HE FIRST SAW HER. The gentle gale, that plays my face around,Murmuring sweet mischief through the verdant grove,To fond remembrance brings the time, when LoveFirst gave his deep, although delightful wound;Gave me to view that beauteous face, ne'er foundVeil'd, as disdain or jealousy might move;To view her locks that shone bright gold above,Then loose, but now with pearls and jewels bound:Those locks she sweetly scatter'd to the wind,And then coil'd up again so gracefully,That but to think on it still thrills the sense.These Time has in more sober braids confined;And bound my heart with such a powerful tie,That death alone can disengage it thence. Nott. The balmy airs that from yon leafy sprayMy fever'd brow with playful murmurs greet,Recall to my fond heart the fatal dayWhen Love his first wound dealt, so deep yet sweet,And gave me the fair face—in scorn awaySince turn'd, or hid by jealousy—to meet;The locks, which pearls and gems now oft array,Whose shining tints with finest gold compete,So sweetly on the wind were then display'd,Or gather'd in with such a graceful art,Their very thought with passion thrills my mind.Time since has twined them in more sober braid,And with a snare so powerful bound my heart,Death from its fetters only can unbind. Macgregor.

Written by Walt Whitman | O Living Always—Always Dying O LIVING always—always dying! O the burials of me, past and present! O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever! O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not—I am content;) O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look at, where I cast them! To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind!