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"Sonnet 73"
That time of year thou mayest in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet binds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perciev'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
--William Shakespeare
"The Passionate Shepherd to His Love"
Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroideríd all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.
--Christopher Marlowe
"Sonnet 17"
Shall I compare Thee to a summers' day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
An every fair from fair sometime declines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
An every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;'
But Thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair Thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag Thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time Thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to Thee.
--William Shakespeare
"Her Reply"
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherdís tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold;
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancyís spring, but sorrowís fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon witherósoon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,--
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, no age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
--Sir Walter Raleigh
"The Bargain"
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for another given;
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
By just exchange one for another given;
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven:
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
His heart in me keeps him and me in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,
I cherish his because in me it bides:
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
--Sir Philip Sidney
"There is Nothing Held So Dear"
There is nothing held so dear as love, if only it be hard to win.
The roses that in yonder hedge appear;
Outdo our garden-buds which bloom within;
But since the hand may pluck them every day;
Unmarked they bud, bloom,
drop and drift away;
--Jean Ingelow
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