Sheridan at the Linleys, Margaret Isabel Dicksee (1899)
Richard and Elizabeth, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
This angelic voice I hear is so sweet
Her great beauty exceeding every note
Which my waiting ears are happy to meet
In my heart her beauty willing to tote
By the many suitors she is adored
But none could ever love her any more
Willingly save her honor with my sword
Provide her needed peace on foreign shore
A wounded song bird with such painful strife
Come under my wing, again you will sing
The wondrous joy when we be man and wife
Happiness into your life I will bring
A few bars more to the end of the score
Then you and I, our love we will explore
Adolphe-Willem Bouguereau – The Shell (not dated)
The Shell, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
Put the shell to your ear, what do you hear?
Do you hear a rolling roar, is it clear?
Is it a big singing sea, is it near?
As if we were standing upon the pier?
There is more of a story to that roar.
Long ago when mariners first left their shore,
Seeking many treasures and fighting war,
But in their greed they wanted even more.
Wished to make a slave of the mighty sea.
In arms to seize Sirenum scopuli.
All the Sirens gagged were tied to a tree,
Nevermore their voices to be set free.
This sent Neptune into a royal rage.
He called for Gastropods of any age,
Their help to this vicious act to upstage.
With the mariners war he would engage.
In each he blew a magical sounding.
To mariners it would be resounding,
So powerful it was hypnotizing,
Doing deeds without ever surmising.
Gastropods cast their shells to the high tide
Naked they were they went elsewhere to hide
At low tide the mariners did abide
An ear to each shell now ready to ride
In their boats again to complete a task,
Under rigid trance not needing to ask.
Relieve each of the Sirens from her mask,
Thus each now able to the shore to bask.
Millenniums have passed since that event.
Mariners don’t remember being sent.
Never required by Neptune to repent,
But he shall never forget its portent.
The shells now have lost most of their power,
But like flowers in the rolling bower,
Many hearts they do easily capture,
Putting minds into a state of rapture.
Ephemeral Joy, Charles Edward Perugini (nd)
Ephemeral Joy, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
Tell me, what words from my love do you bring?
Does he sing of me as I do of he?
O my heart does quicken when he does sing,
I pray that he shall come soonest to me.
Please stay while I wait for his arrival,
For my heart goes still if he is not near.
Our secret, do I have any rival?
That being this tender heart’s biggest fear.
Thinking of love keeps my mind so busy,
Often everyday chores never get done,
Simmering this heart shall not be my plea,
Instead be my wish this love to burgeon.
The power of love when two hearts collide,
A feeling no great’r to carry inside.
Rest, Vilhelm Hammershoi (1905)
Love’s Challenge, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
In this chair I sit not so far from you,
Almost able with fingers I could touch.
The softness of you is within my view,
O so eager to have you in my clutch.
Is it not better sitting face to face,
So the beauty of your eyes I may see,
And the allure of your face I may trace.
Is it possible my desire to be?
In this moment must my heart be content,
To wallow in memories made to share?
Do not know of any need to repent,
Nor wish your response be a silent stare.
Great love for you comes not without its cost,
All I’ll bear for without you I’d be lost.
Reading Woman by a Piano, Vihelm Hammershoi (1907)
Reading Woman by a Piano, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
Love poems that I read instill me more.
Still waiting your special knock on my door.
Bearing the absence of one I adore.
O come, pluck the strings softly, I implore.
Do lovingly what you have done before,
With every note you’d play my heart did soar.
Come quickly, come quickly play an encore,
As I danced, your music was all I wore.
Your music more precious than any ore.
Come quick, so I may dance upon the floor,
A new step wish eagerly to explore,
Because my solemn heart great love will pour.
Not to be sad ’till you come, I’m foreswore,
For it’s you I shall love forevermore.
La Fenaison, Julien Dupre (1884)
Haymaking, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
Smelling the new mowed hay forever stays,
In your heart and your soul in many ways.
Body fatigued from the ever long days,
Dissolved by beautiful songs of great praise.
Her joyous voice that of a meadow lark,
Shall sing her praise until it’s nearly dark,
For such a bounty from earth’s matriarch,
Who has shown to be her greatest bulwark.
Looking around at the work that’s been done,
The land given its hay is now barren.
This season shall see no further action,
The wonder of it all makes me chasten.
To be connected to this hallowed earth,
Brings with every season thankful rebirth.