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~To A Kiss~


Humid seal of soft affections,
Tend'rest pledge of future bliss,

Dearest tie of young connections,
Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.

Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Passion's birth, and infants' play,

Dove-like fondness, chaste concession,
Glowing dawn of brighter day.


Sorrowing joy, adieu's last action,
Ling'ring lips, -- no more to join!

What words can ever speak affection
Thrilling and sincere as thine!


~Robert Burns~






~Shall I Compare Thee~


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:

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed:

And every fair from fair sometime declines, By
chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed.

But thy enternal 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 men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.


~William Shakespeare~






~Perfect Woman~


She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;

A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;

A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!

Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;

A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;

A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;

For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;

A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death;

The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd,
To warm, to comfort, and command;

And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.


~William Wordsworth~






~O My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose~


O My Love is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Love is like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love 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:
And I love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o'life shall run.

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


~Robert Burns~





~Tears, Idle Tears~


Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In
looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying
ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a summering square; So
sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep
as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death
in Life, the days that are no.

~Lord Alfred Tennyson~






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