Saturday, December 11, 2010

Something filled up my heart with nothing...

Alas! How easily things go wrong!
A sigh too much or a kiss too long;
And there follows a mist and a weeping rain
And life is never the same again.

--- George Macdonald

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I see she flies me everywhere,
Her eyes her scorn discover;
But what's her scorn, or my despair,
Since 'tis my fate to love her?
Were she but kind whom I adore,
I might live longer, but not love her more.

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You'll love me yet! - and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing:
June rear'd that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April's sowing.

I plant a heartful now: some seed
At least is sure to strike,
And yield - what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but may be, like.

You'll look at least on love's remains,
A grave's one violet:
Your look? - that pays a thousand pains.
Whats death? You'll love me yet.

--- Robert Browning

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