somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
A NEW BEGINNING
By, Gwen Frostic
On this earth there is a oneness A rhythmic flow through everything that lives The things with roots and stems and leaves The things with shells and fins and furs The things with wings with which to fly The things that crwal and those that walk Each thing must eat and breath and rest Each thing must seek and each is sought for Each has a birth, a purpose to fulfill To each an end and then a new beginning.
Sonnet XXIV by William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with Fortune and Men's eyke's, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate, For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Sonnet XVII - Pablo Neruda
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom carries hidden within itself the light of those flowers, and thanks to your love, darkly in my body lives dense fragrance that rises from the earth. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
Sonnet XLIII, from "Sonnets from the Portuguese" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old grief's, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, --I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! --and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.
FROM THE GIFT OF THE SEA By Anne Morrow Lindbergh
When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity -- in freedom in the sense that dancers are free barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern. The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation but in living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands; one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits ... islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.
On Marriage, By Edmund O’Neill
Marriage is a commitment to life - to the best that two people can find and bring out in each other. It offers opportunities for sharing and growth that no other human relationship can equal, a joining that is promised for a lifetime. Within the circle of its love, marriage encompasses all of life's most important relationships. A wife and a husband are each other's best friend, confidant, lover, teacher, listener, and critic. There may come times when one partner is heartbroken or ailing, and the love of the other may resemble the tender caring of a parent for a child. Marriage deepens and enriches every facet of life. Happiness is fuller; memories are fresher; commitment is stronger; even anger is felt more strongly, and passes away more quickly. Marriage understands and forgives the mistakes life is unable to avoid. It encourages and nurtures new life, new experiences, and new ways of expressing love through the seasons of life. When two people pledge to love and care for each other in marriage they create a spirit unique to themselves, which binds them closer than any spoken or written words. Marriage is a promise, a potential, made in the hearts of two people who love, which takes a lifetime to fulfill.
Hope Is The Thing With Feathers, by Emily Dickenson
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chilliest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity It asked a crumb of me.
True Love, by Anonymous
True love is a sacred flame That burns eternally,And none can dim its special glow Or change its destiny. True love speaks in tender tones And hears with gentle ear, True love gives with open heart And true love conquers fear. True love makes no harsh demands It neither rules nor binds, And true love holds with gentle hands The hearts that it entwines.
Sudden Light, by Dante Rosetti
I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before, How long ago I may not know: But just when at that swallow's soar Your neck turned so, Some veil did fall---I knew it all of yore.
Has this been thus before? And shall not thus time's eddying flight Still with our lives our love restore In death's despite, And day and night yield one delight once more?
To My Dear and Loving Husband, by Anne Bradstreet
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 persevere That when we live no more, we may live ever.
She Walks In Beauty, by Lord Byron
Lord Byron is said to have written this poem after meeting his cousin Lady Anne Wilmot Horton in black mourning clothes, which, when combined with her pale skin and black hair reminded him of stars and the night.
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!
A White Rose, by JB O’Reilly
The red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of love; O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove. But I send you a cream-white rosebud With a flush on its petal tips; For the love that is purest and sweetest Has a kiss of desire on the lips
To Chloe, by William Cartwright
Who for his sake wished herself younger
There are two births; the one when light First strikes the new awaken'd sense; The other when two souls unite, And we must count our life from thence: When you loved me and I loved you Then both of us were born anew.
Love then to us new souls did give And in those souls did plant new powers; Since when another life we live, The breath we breathe is his, not ours: Love makes those young whom age doth chill, And whom he finds young keeps young still.
Debt, by Jesse Rittenhouse
My debt to you, Belovéd, Is one I cannot pay In any coin of any realm On any reckoning day;
For where is he shall figure The debt, when all is said, To one who makes you dream again When all the dreams were dead?
Or where is the appraiser Who shall the claim compute, Of one who makes you sing again When all the songs were mute?
A Red Red Rose, by Robert Burns
"A Red, Red Rose" was written in 1794 by Scotsman Robert Burns. It is also called "My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose."
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!
Shall I Compare Thee? William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? Thou are 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 men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Married Love (a Chinese love poem), by Kuan Tao-Sheng
You and I Have so much love That it Burns like a fire, In which we bake a lump of clay Molded into a figure of you And a figure of me. Then we take both of them, And break them into pieces, And mix the pieces with water, And mold again a figure of you, And a figure of me. I am in your clay. You are in my clay. In life we share a single quilt. In death we will share one bed.
Touched By An Angel, by Maya Angelou
We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes into our sight to liberate us into life. Love arrives and in its train come ecstasies old memories of pleasure ancient histories of pain. Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls. We are weaned from our timidity In the flush of love's light we dare be brave And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free.
Love's Philosophy, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river, And the rivers with the ocean, the winds of heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law of divine In another's being mingle - Why not I with thine? See, the mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another, No sister flower could be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea - What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?
Hindu Marriage Poem
You have become mine forever. Yes, we have become partners. I have become yours. Hereafter, I cannot live without you. Do not live without me. Let us share the joys. We are word and meaning, unite. You are thought and I am sound. May the nights be honey-sweet for us. May the mornings be honey-sweet for us. May the plants be honey-sweet for us. May the earth be honey-sweet for us.
Never Marry But For Love, by William Penn
Never marry but for love; but see that thou lovest what is lovely. He that minds a body and not a soul has not the better part of that relationship, and will consequently lack the noblest comfort of a married life. Between a man and his wife nothing ought rule but love. As love ought to bring them together, so it is the best way to keep them well together. A husband and wife that love one another show their children that they should do so too. Others visibly lose their authority in their families by their contempt of one another, and teach their children to be unnatural by their own examples. Let not enjoyment lessen, but augment, affection; it being the basest of passions to like when we have not, what we slight when we possess. Here it is we ought to search out our pleasure, where the field is large and full of variety, and of an enduring nature; sickness, poverty or disgrace being not able to shake it because it is not under the moving influences of worldly contingencies. Nothing can be more entire and without reserve; nothing more zealous, affectionate and sincere; nothing more contented than such a couple, nor greater temporal felicity than to be one of them.
To Be One With Each Other, by George Eliot
What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined together to strengthen each other in all labor, to minister to each other in all sorrow, to share with each other in all gladness, to be one with each other in the silent unspoken memories?
My True Love Hath My Heart , by Sir Philip Sidney
also called "The Bargain"
My true love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange, one for the other given. I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; He loves my heart, for once it was his own, I cherish his, because in me it bides.
His heart his would received from my sight, My heart was wounded with his wounded heart; For as from me on him his hurt did light, So still methought in me his hurt did smart.
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss; My true love hath my heart and I have his
Sonnet 18, by William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... 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.
Somewhere, by Sir Edwin Arnold
Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours for one lone soul, another lonely soul - Each chasing each through all the weary hours, And meeting strangely at one sudden goal; Then blend they - like green leaves with golden flowers, Into one beautiful and perfect whole - And life's long night is ended, and the way Lies open onward to eternal day.
See What Flowers Are At My Feet, by John Keats
See what flowers are at my feet, What soft incense hangs upon the boughs, Wherewith the seasonable mouth endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorne, fast-fading violets And the coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunts of summer eves.
Sonnet 116, by William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! It is an ever-fix'd mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
Two Fragments, by Sappho
Love holds me captive again and I tremble with bittersweet longing As a gale on the mountainside bends the oak tree I am rocked by my love
by, John Clare
Love lives beyond The tomb, the earth, which fades like dew. I love the fond, The faithful, and the true Love lives in sleep, The happiness of healthy dreams Eve's dews may weep, But love delightful seems.
'Tis heard in Spring When light and sunbeams, warm and kind, On angels' wing Bring love and music to the mind.
And where is voice, So young, so beautiful and sweet As nature's choice, Where Spring and lovers meet?
Love lives beyond The tomb, the earth, the flowers, and dew. I love the fond, The faithful, young and true.