Life in a Love

by Robert Browning

Escape me?

Never—

Beloved!

While I am I, and you are you,

So long as the world contains us both,

Me the loving and you the loth,

While the one eludes, must the other pursue.

My life is a fault at last, I fear:

It seems too much like a fate, indeed!

Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.

But what if I fail of my purpose here?

It is but to keep the nerves at strain,

To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,

And, baffled, get up and begin again,—

So the chace takes up one's life, that's all.

While, look but once from your farthest bound

At me so deep in the dust and dark,

No sooner the old hope goes to ground

Than a new one, straight to the self-same mark,

I shape me—

Ever

Removed!

My Star

by Robert Browning

                        All that I know

                    Of a certain star,

                        Is, it can throw

                        (Like the angled spar)

                        Now a dart of red,

                        Now a dart of blue,

                        Till my friends have said

                        They would fain see, too,

My star that dartles the red and the blue!

Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:

            They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.

What matter to me if their star is a world?

            Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.

The Solitary Reaper

by William Wordsworth

Behold her, single in the field,

Yon solitary Highland Lass!

Reaping and singing by herself;

Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,

And sings a melancholy strain;

O listen! for the Vale profound

Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt

More welcome notes to weary bands

Of travellers in some shady haunt,

Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard

In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,

Breaking the silence of the seas

Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—

Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,

And battles long ago:

Or is it some more humble lay,

Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang

As if her song could have no ending;

I saw her singing at her work,

And o'er the sickle bending;—

I listened, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

A Red, Red Rose

by Robert Burns

O my Luve is like a red, red rose

      That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

      That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

      So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve 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 love thee still, my dear,

      While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

      And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

      Though it were ten thousand mile.

Sonnet XLIII

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 everyday'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 griefs, 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.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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 mellowed to the tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One ray the more, one shade the less

Had half impaired 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, (George Gordon)

Valentine Song

Dearest, let these roses

    In their purity,

Be a present symbol

    Of my love for thee.

Underneath the blossom

    Thorns are sure to grow;

Take heed lest you touch them,

    They would pain you so!

Ah! my faults like thorns are,

    But cannot they be

Hidden 'neath the flower

    Of my love for thee?

Robert Argyle Campbell

And So Did I

Before the fire, that winter's night

   None seemed so sweet as she,

With winning smile, and dark eyes bright,

   And playful repartee.

The dancing light - as round it flashed -

   To her seemed drawing nigh,

Her slender waist pressed unabashed;

   Thus guided, so did I.

It softly touched her cheeks aflame.

   I scarce repressed a sigh.

It touched her lips. Dared I the same?

   Too tempting; so did I.

Her ruby lips, half pouting, seemed

   My boldness to decry.

Pa's step was heard. The flame scarce gleamed,

   Went out - and so did I.

Isaac Joslyn Cox

THE BLACK RIDERS
and Other Lines

by Stephen Crane
[1895]

VIII

I looked here;

I looked there;

Nowhere could I see my love.

And -- this time --

She was in my heart.

Truly, then, I have no complaint,

For though she be fair and fairer,

She is none so fair as she

In my heart.

Leave Me, O Love, Which Reachest But to Dust

Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,

And thou my mind aspire to higher things:

Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:

Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.

Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might,

To that sweet yoke, where lasting freedoms be:

Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light,

That doth both shine and give us sight to see.

O take fast hold, let that light be thy guide,

In this small course which birth draws out to death,

And think how evil becometh him to slide,

Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.

Then farewell world, thy uttermost I see,

Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.

Sir Philip Sidney

Thou blind fool love
Sonnet 137
by William Shakespeare

Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes
That they behold and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is, take the worst to be.
If eyes corrupt by overpartial looks,
Be anchored in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forgèd hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot
Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?
Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,
And to this false plague are they now transferred.

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