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Portrait of the writer as a young man
a long bag of folly who looks
better than he thinks
a little king of drink
was I
for the fool may be
a cunning scribe
Digte om emnet: fool
Digte om emnet “fool” på Poets.by.
Artless
difficult to see anything
in the art of the foolish
an art content
with the canvas as is
making up nobody but themselves
Immortals of the Wine Cup
A red-faced divinity, the fool
who won a quart of sack.
He and I talk beauty
till we’re both angry,
then walk in the fields.
On the Contrary
The land troubles me,
and I am against the sea.
I cry out at the sight of a ship,
and hear bullets go hissing overhead
in a transport of joy.
I perceive unknown letters
in familiar words.
Strange things please me.
I put great confidence in the thoughts
of a thick-skulled fool.
Ordinary business must be
not served but feared.
April fool
I talk with the passion
of a nonconformist
yet wish for quiet
my tune is a tune
of night and knot
swearing at all the roaches in the world
I am on the whole
a fool to see things ordered
so unlike gentlemen of reason
Fool(ed)
Her eyes seemed so honest,
Her voice sincere,
Her compliments genuine,
I’ve been fooled again,
Her words without hesitation,
Flirting constant,
Smile glowing,
Fooled once again,
Her laughter consistent,
Curiosity displayed,
Emotions exerted,
The fool I played,
Her sincere voice goes silent,
Her smile is no more,
Flirting non-existent,
I’ve been fooled again,
For a Fool
On earth the wise man makes the rules,
And is the fool’s adviser,
But here the wise are as the fools,
(And no man is the wiser).
The Hermit
Fools drove him with goads and whips
Down to the sea where there were ships.
And he was forced at the risk of his neck
To find a refuge on a stranger's deck.
Then that ship sailed away
Far from the land that day,
He watched the sky, and mourned to be
In such a dread captivity.
But from a rift of flying cloud
Burst a tempest quick and loud;
A burning bolt struck the strange deck
Bringing the ship to sudden wreck.
So the poor slave swam free
Over a quick calmed sea:
On a new coast-line he was thrown,
And claimed a virgin island for his own.
Sonnet 137: Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot,
Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?
Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not,
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd,
And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.
Sonnet 57: Being your slave what should I do but tend
Being your slave what should I do but tend,
Upon the hours, and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend;
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour,
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are, how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love, that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.
Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most freindship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
The Time I've Lost In Wooing
The time I've lost in wooing,
In watching and pursuing
The light that lies
In woman's eyes,
Has been my heart's undoing.
Tho' Wisdom oft has sought me,
I scorn'd the lore she brought me,
My only books
Were women's looks,
And folly's all they taught me.
Her smile when Beauty granted,
I hung with gaze enchanted,
Like him the Sprite
Whom maids by night
Oft meet in glen that's haunted.
Like him, too, Beauty won me;