'I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep or night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me-who knows how?--
To thy chamber-window, sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream,--
The champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O, beloved as thou art!
O, lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:
Oh! press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!'

-The Indian Serenade by Percy Shelley

that is a really good poem

The time rolls round again, enjoy.


'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 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. '

Excerpt from Marriage of True Minds by William Shakespeare

My Darling Bear
Who's Always There
Now Threadbare
From Our Long Affair.

Passing stranger! you do not know
How longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking,
Or she I was seeking
(It comes to me as a dream)
I have somewhere surely
Lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me,
Were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become
not yours only nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes,
face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my beard, breast, hands,
in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
To a Stranger by Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

and another....

Déni de Dieu, déni du diable
incapable d'être coupable
tu es belle
indéniable

Tu es belle comme la mer et la Terre
avant la prolifération humaine
Et pourtant tu es femme

Tu es belle comme le vent qu'on ne peut voir
belle comme le matin et le soir
Tu es belle et tu n'es pas la seule

Tu es belle entre les belles mais dans la ribambelle
des belles tu n'est pas l'étoile
Tu es l'une d'elles
la mienne
et pourtant tu ne m'appartiens pas

Mais tu es la seule île déserte
où je pourrais vivre avec toi

Belle~

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

And another.....



And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
The love I bear thee,finding words enough,
And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,
Between our faces, to cast light upon each?
I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach
My hand to hold my spirit so far off
From myself.. me.. that I should bring thee proof,
In words of love hid in me...out of reach.
Nay, let the silence of my womanhood
Commend my woman-love to thy belief,
Seeing that I stand unwon (however wooed)
And rend the garment of my life in brief
By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,
Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.    


Sonnets from the Portuguese XIII by Elizabeth Barrett Browning