She Was a Phantom of Delight

She Was a Phantom of Delight
by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
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She was a Phantom of delight

When first she gleam'd upon my sight;

A lovely Apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament:

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful dawn;

A dancing shape, an image gay,

To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
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I saw her upon nearer view,

A Spirit, yet a Woman too!

Her household motions light and free,

And steps of virgin liberty;

A countenance in which did meet

Sweet records, promises as sweet;

A creature not too bright or good

For human nature's daily food,

For transient sorrows, simple wiles,

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
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And now I see with eye serene

The very pulse of the machine;

A being breathing thoughtful breath,

A traveller between life and death:

The reason firm, the temperate will,

Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd

To warn, to comfort, and command;

And yet a Spirit still, and bright

With something of an angel light.

Hope

Hope

by Emily Jane Bronte
1818 - 1848
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You can find the handcrafted lampwork glass bead named after this poem at Beadshaper
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Hope was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.
False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!

Life

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Life by Charlotte Bronte (1816 - 1855)

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You can find the handcrafted lampwork glass bead named after this poem at http://www.beadshaper.com/

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Life, believe, is not a dream

So dark as sages say;

Oft a little morning rain

Foretells a pleasant day.

Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,

But these are transient all;

If the shower will make the roses bloom,

O why lament its fall?

Rapidly, merrily,

Life's sunny hours flit by,

Gratefully, cheerily

Enjoy them as they fly!

What though Death at times steps in,

And calls our Best away?

What though sorrow seems to win,

O'er hope, a heavy sway?

Yet Hope again elastic springs,

Unconquered, though she fell;

Still buoyant are her golden wings,

Still strong to bear us well.

Manfully, fearlessly,

The day of trial bear,

For gloriously, victoriously,

Can courage quell despair!

If Thou Must Love Me

This colorful handcrafted focal bead named for the poem, "If thou must love me" in Sonnets from the Portuguese XIV by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, can be found in the Gallery of the Beadshaper's web site, http://www.beadshaper.com/

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If thou must love me, let it be for nought

Except for love's sake only.

Do not say

'I love her for her smile--her look--her way

Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'--

For these things in themselves,

Beloved, may

Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,

May be unwrought so.

Neither love me for

Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,--

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby !

But love me for love's sake, that evermore

Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

Farewell to Love

Farewell to Love

by Michael Drayton (1563-1631)

To read more about this bead named for the poem, Click http://www.beadshaper.com/

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Since there's not help, come let us kiss and part;

Nay, I am done, you get no more of me;

And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free;

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we, one jot of former love retain.

Now, at the last gasp of love's latest breath,

When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,

When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

And innocence is closing up his eyes,

Now, if thou woulds't, when all have given him over,

From death to life

Thou might'st him yet recover.

Garden of Love

Garden of Love by William Blake (1757-1827).

Click Garden of Love for further information about this handcrafted lampwork glass floral pendant named for the poem.

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I laid me down upon a bank,

Where Love lay sleeping;

I heard among the rushes dank

Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,

To the thistles and thorns of the waste;

And they told me how they were beguiled,

Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen;

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut

And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;

So I turned to the Garden of Love

That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tombstones where flowers should be;

And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars my joys and desires.

i carry your heart

i carry your heart
by EE Cummings (1894-1962)
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Click Beadshaper Gallery for further information about this heart shaped lampwork glass bead named for the poem.

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i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Because She Would Me Ask Why I Loved Her

Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her

by Christopher Brennan 1870-1932

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Click Beadshaper Gallery for further information about this bracelet named for the poem.

If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;

If all our tale were told in speech

No mouths would wander each to each.

Were spirits free from mortal flesh

And love not found in hearts of flesh

No aching breasts would yearn to meet

And find their ecstacy complete.

For who is there that lives and knows

The secret powers by which he grows?

Were knowledge all, what were our need

To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?

Then seek not, sweet, the "If " and "Why"

I love you now until I die

For I must love because I live

And life in me is what you give.