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Love Letters -
Love Letters
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Written by Administrator
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Monday, 27 February 2012 22:41 |
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The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
~ William Butler Yeats |
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Love Letters -
Love Letters
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Written by Administrator
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Monday, 27 February 2012 22:39 |
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Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: So long as man can breath, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
~ William Shakespeare (1564-1616) |
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Love Letters -
Love Letters
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Written by Administrator
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Monday, 27 February 2012 22:36 |
She Walks in Beauty
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!
~ Lord Byron (1788-1824) |
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Love Letters -
Love Letters
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Written by Administrator
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Monday, 27 February 2012 22:34 |
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Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou Art
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient sleepless eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors; No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever—or else swoon to death.
~ John Keats |
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Love Letters -
Love Letters
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Written by Administrator
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Monday, 27 February 2012 22:32 |
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Wild Nights
Wild nights. Wild nights! Were I with thee, Wild nights should be Our luxury!
Futile the winds To a heart in port Done with the compass Done with the chart.
Rowing in Eden. Ah, the sea. Might I but moor Tonight with thee!
~ Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886) |
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