A Red, Red Rose

by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796)

O my luve's like a red, red rose.
That's newly sprung in June;
O my luve's like a melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will love thee still, my Dear,
Till a'the seas gang dry.


Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will luve thee still, my Dear,
While the sands o'life shall run.

And fare thee weel my only Luve!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

i carry your heart

by E.E. Cummings (1894 - 1962)

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)

Love And Life

by John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647 - 1680)

All my past life is mine no more;
...The flying hours are gone,
Like transitory dreams given o'er,
Whose images are kept in store
...By memory alone.
The time that is to come is not;
...How can it then be mine?
The present moment's all my lot;
And that, as fast as it is got,
...Phyllis, is only thine.







Then talk not of inconstancy,
...False hearts, and broken vows;
If I by miracle can be
This live-long minute true to thee,
...'Tis all that Heaven allows.

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

by Christopher Marlowe (1564 - 1593)

Come live with me and be
my Love,
And we will all the pleasures
prove
That hills and valleys, dales and
fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain
yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed
their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.





And I will make beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs-
And if these pleasures may move,
Come live with me and by my Love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For delight each May morning-
If these delights mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

To My Dear and Loving Husband

Anne Bradstreet (1612 - 1672)

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov’d by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.

My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be

by John Keats (1795 - 1821)

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;

And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

She Walks In Beauty

By George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788 - 1824)

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.




And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Life in a Love

by Robert Browning (1812-1889)

Escape me?
Never—
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth,
While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear—
It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed—
But what if I fail of my purpose here?



It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,
And baffled, get up to begin again,—
So the chase takes up one's life, that's all.
While, look but once from your farthest bound,
At me so deep in the dust and dark,
No sooner the old hope drops to ground
Than a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,
I shape me—
Ever
Removed!