Giovanni di Paolo, St. Clare rescuing the shipwrecked, 1450 ca There should be no despair for you While nightly stars are burning; While evening pours its silent dew, And sunshine gilds the morning. There should be no despair–though tears May flow down like a river: Are not the best beloved of years Around your heart …
Oda Krohg, Japanese Lantern, 1886 I’ll come when thou art saddest, Laid alone in the darkened room; When the mad day’s mirth has vanished, And the smile of joy is banished From evening’s chilly gloom. I’ll come when the heart’s real feeling Has entire unbiased sway, And my influence o’er thee stealing, Grief deepening joy …
Viktor Vasnetsov, Snow maiden, 1899 Love is like the wild rose-briar, Friendship like the holly-tree— The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms But which will bloom most constantly? The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring, Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again And who will call the wild-briar fair? Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now And deck thee …
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, The Beloved – The Bride, 1866 I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love!Merciful love that tantalises notone-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,unmask’d, and being seen—without a blot!O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zestof love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,that warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,—yourself—your soul—in pity give me …
John Keats – Io ti grido pietà! Amore / I cry your mercy-pity-love! Read More »
Louis Jean Francois Lagrenée, Amor and Psyche, c. 1800 Fill for me a brimming bowl And in it let me drown my soul: But put therein some drug, designed To Banish Women from my mind: For I want not the stream inspiring That fills the mind with–fond desiring, But I want as deep a draught …
John Keats – Voglio una coppa piena sino all’orlo / Fill for me a brimming bowl Read More »
Dima Dmitriev, Footpath, 2010 A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing a flowery band to bind us to the earth, spite of despondence, …
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