Thursday, September 13, 2012

To My Dear and Loving Husband


  If ever two were one, then surely we. 
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee; 
If ever wife was happy in a man, 
Compare with me ye women if you can. 
I prize thy love more then whole Mines of gold, 
Or all the riches that the East doth hold. 
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, 
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence. 
Thy love is such I can no way repay, 
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray. 
Then while we live, in love let's so persever, 
That when we live no more, we may live ever. 

by Anne Bradstreet 

Monday, August 23, 2010

I carry your heart with me

I carry your heart with me, (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it,(anywhere I go you go,
my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
I fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

by E. E Cumming

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

If Grief for Grief can Touch Thee

If grief for grief can touch thee,
If answering woe for woe,
If any truth can melt thee
Come to me now!

I cannot be more lonely,
More drear I cannot be!
My worn heart beats so wildly
'Twill break for thee--

And when the world despises--
When Heaven repels my prayer--
Will not mine angel comfort?
Mine idol hear?

Yes, by the tears I'm poured,
By all my hours of pain
O I shall surely win thee,
Beloved, again!

by Emily Bronte (1818 - 1848)

The Beginning

Some day I shall rise and leave my friends
And seek you again through the world's far ends,
You whom I found so fair
(Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!),
My only god in the days that were.
My eager feet shall find you again,
Though the sullen years and the mark of pain
Have changed you wholly; for I shall know
(How could I forget having loved you so?),
In the sad half-light of evening,
The face that was all my sunrising.
So then at the ends of the earth I'll stand
And hold you fiercely by either hand,
And seeing your age and ashen hair
I'll curse the thing that once you were,
Because it is changed and pale and old
(Lips that were scarlet, hair that was gold!),
And I loved you before you were old and wise,
When the flame of youth was strong in your eyes,
---And my heart is sick with memories.

by Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Fade Away

I think that I would rather go
And walk across a bed of coals
Or drop myself into the sea
With an anchor tied to me

Than to watch you fade away
Just like the dawn fades into day
When all the twinkling, starry skies
Disappear into sunrise

by: Lisa G. Leming

Friday, October 9, 2009

Shattered Pieces
Inside my sleeve, I pull out my heart,
handing it to you, "careful it's fragile,
and easily falls apart."

Extending your arms, you take the heart in
your tender warm hands.
It falls into a million shattered pieces - on
the floor it lands.

You begin to bend down to pick it up, sorrow and
sadness in your eyes.

Apologies are not enough.

Looking at you with tears in my eyes,
I ask you not to pick up the pieces of a heart
that has fallen apart.

I am the one who needs to pick up the pieces of
my shattered heart - one by one, piece by piece.

I need to put it together again, some how. some way.

Each piece of my heart has a memory so true.
Each piece of my heart has part of you.

You are the one who is leaving to start a new lease on life.
I'll just be here on my knees picking up the pieces of a
heart that feels like it's being pierced with a knife.

All my tears won't keep you near
All my tears won't mend what's not here.

Again I look at you with a whisper in my voice,
The only way my heart will mend and finally be complete,
is if you and I can come together without being discreet.
You see, what we have here and today, helps me face the
world, with a love for you that gives a glow -
but now, my darling, you made a choice.

My heart is on this floor, shattered and broke.
With each piece I pick up -
I need to learn to let go.
by Cherenee

Wednesday, September 30, 2009


I vow to you
my heart complete,
my every breath
for you I'll take,
every thought I'll have
will be of you,
I'll love you forever
with a love that's true.
I'll give to you
my days, my nights,
my laughter, my smiles,
my love, my life,
I'll give to you
all my dreams,
I'll give myself
and all that means.

I vow to you
to always care,
to always be
one who shares
for everyday,
for now, for then
and for always.

by: Dan Metz

Friday, September 25, 2009

When we two parted

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever the years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder, thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk, chill on my brow,
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me...
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well..
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

by Lord Byron (1788 - 1824)

Thursday, September 24, 2009

My Beloved
I am my love's and he is mine,
And this is his desire,
That with his beauty I may shine
In radiant attire.
And this will be-when all of me
Is pruned and purged with fire.
Come, my Beloved, let us go
Forth to the waiting field;
And where thy choicest fruit trees grow,
Thy pruning knife now wield
That at thy will and through thy skill
Their richest store may yield.
And spices give a sweet perfume,
And vines show tender shoots,
And all my trees burst forth in bloom,
Fair buds from bitter roots.
There will not I my love deny,
But yield thee pleasant fruits.

(Cant 7:10-13), Hannah Hurnard
'Hinds' Feet on High Places'
A Love Song
Reject me not if I should say to you
I do forget the sounding of your voice,
I do forget your eyes that searching through
The mists perceive our love, and rejoice.
Yet, when the apple-blossom opens wide
Under the pallid moonlight's fingering,
I see your blanched face at my breast, and hide
My eyes from diligent work, malingering.
Ah, then, upon my bedroom I do draw
The blind to hide the garden, where the moon
Enjoys the open blossoms as they straw
Their beauty for his taking, boon for boon.
And I do lift my aching arms to you,
And I do lift my anguished, avid breast,
And I do weep for very pain of you,
And fling myself at the doors of sleep, for rest.
And I do toss through the troubled night for you,
Dreaming your yielded mouth is given to mine,
Feeling your strong breast carry me on into
The peace where sleep is stronger even than wine.

by D.H. Lawrence

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Strange how we suffer inspite of this..
The little river twittering in the twilight,
The wan, wondering look of the pale sky,
This is almost bliss.
And everything shut up and gone to sleep,

All the troubles and anxieties and pains,
Gone under the twilight.
Only the twilight now and the soft sound of "Sh!"
Of the river that will last forever.
And at last I know my love for you is here;

I can see it all, it is whole like the twilight,
It is large, so large, I could not see it before,
Because of the little lights and flickers and interruptions,
Troubles, anxieties, and pains.
You are the call, and I am the answer,

You are the wish, and I the fulfillment,
You are the night, and I the day,
What else - it is perrfect enough.
It is perfectly complete,You and I - What more?
Strange how we suffer in spite of this...

Bei Hennef
by D.H. Lawrence (1885 - 1930)

But Not Forgotten

I think, no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.
Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not soon forget my hands,
Nor yet the way I held my head,
Nor all the tremulous things I said.
You still will see me, small and white
And smiling, in the secret night,
And feel my arms about you when
The day comes fluttering back again.
I think, no matter where you be,
You'll hold me in your memory
And keep my image, there without me,
By telling later loves about me.

by: Dorothy Parker (1893 - 1967)

Monday, September 21, 2009


Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me.
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth.
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say My love! why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

by Matthew Arnold (1822 1888)

Heart, we will forget him..

Heart, we will forget him,
You and I, tonight!
You must forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.
When you have done pray tell me,
Then I, my thoughts, will dim.
Haste! ‘lest while you’re lagging,
I may remember him!

by: Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)