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Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Bellamore – Classic Poems

Dearest Bellamore's reader,

I've received some e-mails, requesting for the full version of the classic poems in Bellamore for their perusal. So, here they are as requested… 





George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824)



When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half brokenhearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.


The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow—

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame;

I hear thy name spoken,

And share in its shame.


They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me—

Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I kew thee,

Who knew thee too well—

Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell.


In secret we met—

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?—

With silence and tears.




Anne Brontë (1820-1849)


Farewell to Thee! But not Farewell

To all my fondest thoughts of Thee;

Within my heart they shall dwell

And they shall cheer and comfort me.


Life seems more sweet that Thou didst live

And men more true that Thou wert one;

Nothing is lost that Thou didst give,

Nothing destroyed that Thou hast done.





William Shakespeare (1564-1616)



(Athens. The palace of THESEUS)


How happy some o'er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know:
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vile, folding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:

Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjured every where:
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again.





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Posted at 08:27 pm by LALA

November 3, 2007   04:46 PM PDT
puisi terakhir dr bellamore itu mba sendiri yang buat ato itu emang ada diragusa ?
November 6, 2007   12:18 PM PST
to UCHIE: Kalo kangen, hayuuu kuliah aja lagi... Asyik loh bikin otak njelimet lagi.

to MARA: Semua puisi/lagu yg karya org lain, pasti dicantumin nama penulisnya. Kalo nggak ada, berarti ya karya sendiri.

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