"Desire" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame;
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.
"She Tells Her Love" by Alfred Graves She tell her love while half asleep, In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.
Excerpt from "Lullaby" by W. H. Auden Lay Your Sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm:
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
"Habitation" by Margaret Atwood Marriage is not a house or even a tent
it is before that, and colder:
the edge of the forest, the edge
of the desert
the unpainted stairs
at the back where we squat
outside, eating popcorn
the edge of the receding glacier
where painfully and with wonder
at having survived even this far
we are learning to make fire
"Love Not Me" by John Wilbye Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part:
No, nor for a constant !
For these may fail or turn to ill:
Should and I sever.
Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,
And love me still, but know not why!
So hast the same reason still
Login to add comments on this post.