“My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,

 

And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;

 

Where can we find two better hemispheres,

 

Without sharp north, without declining west?

 

Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;

 

If our two loves be one, or, thou and I

 

Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.”

 

“My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.”
The Good-Morrow
by John Donne  1572-1631
 http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/john-donne
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sirines

“Beside a golden sanded bay
We saw the Sirens, very fair
The flowery hill whereon they lay,
The flowers set upon their hair.
Their old sweet song came down the wind,
Remembered music waxing strong,
Ah now no need of cords to bind,
No need had we of Orphic song.

It once had seemed a little thing,
To lay our lives down at their feet,
That dying we might hear them sing,
And dying see their faces sweet;
But now, we glanced, and passing by,
No care had we to tarry long;
Faint hope, and rest, and memory
Were more than any Siren’s song.”

 

THEY HEAR THE SIRENS FOR THE SECOND TIME

http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext97/blpof10h.htm

 

Aften

postcard“I aften wish that eence again
The weary road I’ve traivell’t

Wis mine tae tread, I’d hae things fit

Withoot mischance or guessin’;

My ships wad safely mak’the port,

My webs be never raivell’t,

An’ a’d be for the best – I wish,

An faur’s the hairm in wishin’? ”

 

(by “Turlundie”-Scottish poet

http://www.rampantscotland.com/poetry/blpoems_wish.htm)

Twice

“You took my heart in your hand
With a friendly smile,
With a critical eye you scanned,
Then set it down,
And said: It is still unripe,
Better wait a while;
Wait while the skylarks pipe,
Till the corn grows brown

As you set it down it broke-
Broke, but I did not wince;
I smiled at the speech you spoke,
At your judgment that I heard:
But I have not often smiled
Since then, nor questioned since,
Nor cared for corn-flowers wild,
Nor sung with the singing bird.”

by Christina Rosetti (1830-1894)

http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/crossetti/harrison2/4.6.html

 

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