Hey, rose, just born Twin to a thorn; Was’t so with you, O Love and Scorn? Sweet eyes that smiled, Now wet and wild: O Eye and Tear- mother and child. Well: Love and Pain Be kinfolks twain; Yet would, Oh would I could Love again. ~ Sidney Lanier (1842-1881)
Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care; But for another gives its ease, And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair. So sang a little Clod of Clay, Trodden with the cattle’s feet; But a Pebble of the brook, Warbled out these metres meet: Love seeketh
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-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering
A glimpse through an interstice caught, Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner, Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may
I loved you first: but afterwards your love Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove. Which owes the other most? my love was long, And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong; I loved and guessed at you, you construed me
An elegy of a pointed diamond given by the author to his wife at the birth of his eldest son Dear, I to thee this diamond commend, In which a model of thyself I send. How just unto thy joints this circlet sitteth, So just thy face and shape my
In summer’s heat and mid-time of the day To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay, One window shut, the other open stood, Which gave such light, as twinkles in a wood, Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun, Or night being past, and yet not day begun.