There is something about Death
Like love itself!
If with some one with whom you have known passion,
And the glow of youthful love,
You also, after years of life
Together, feel the sinking of the fire,
And thus fade away together,
Gradually, faintly, delicately...
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold is so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by...
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize!
For I myself...
Go, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and me
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide...
I love thee, as I love the calm
Of sweet, star-lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
Of early jes'mine flow'rs.
I love thee, as I love the last
Rich smile of fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
On rapture pass'd away.
I leave thee for awhile, my love, I leave thee with a sigh;
The fountain spring within my soul is playing in mine eye;
I do not blush to own the tear, let, let it touch my cheek,
And what my lip has failed to tell, that drop perchance may speak.
Mavourneen! when again I...
At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close at last at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
'I love her for her smile---her...
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...
Yet, gentle shade! whether thou now does rove,
Thro' some blest vale, or ever verdant grove,
One moment listen to my grief and take
The softest vows that ever love can make.
For thee, all thoughts of pleasure I forgo,
For Thee, my tears shall never cease to flow;