To Maggie

The first time I laid eyes on you
A seed was sown within me.
Since then it has grown,
Its creeping tendrils ensnaring my heart,
Filling my head with thoughts of you.
Now a fiery blossom is blooming,
Radiating passion, stirring up longing.
Each day with you,
These feelings grow stronger.
Standing near you I am enchanted
For I am in the presence of an angel.
No longer can these feelings be held in.
From my chest they burst outward
In this confusion only one thing is certain.
Maggie,
I love you.

- Petyr Botti-Anderson -

To Celia

When, Celia, must my old day set,
...And my young morning rise
In beams of joy so bright as yet
...Ne'er bless'd a lover's eyes?
My state is more advanced than when
...I first attempted thee:
I sued to be a servant then,
...But now to be made free.

I've served my time faithful and true,
...Expecting to be placed
In happy freedom, as my due,
...To all the joys thou hast;
Ill husbandry in love is such
...A scandal to love's power,
We ought not to misspend so much
...As one poor short-lived hour.

Yet think not, sweet, I'm weary grown,
...That I pretend such haste;
Since none to surfeit e'er was known
...Before he had a taste:
My infant love could humbly wait
...When, young, it scarce knew how
To plead; but grown to man's estate,
...He is impatient now.

.....To Celia by Charles Cotton (1630-1687)

Chloe

Chloe's a Nymph in flowery groves,
...A Nereid in the streams;
Saint-like she in the temple moves,
...A woman in my dreams.

Love steals artillery from her eyes,
...The Graces point her charms;
Orpheus is rivall'd in her voice,
...And Venus in her arms.

Never so happily in one
...Did heaven and earth combine:
And yet 'tis flesh and blood alone
...That makes her so divine.

.....Chloe Divine by Thomas D'urfey (1633-1723)

Desideria

Surprised by joy--impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport--O! with whom
...But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recall'd thee to my mind--
...But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
...Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss?--That thought's return
...Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
...Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
...Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

.....Desideria by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

I Will Not Give Thee All My Heart

When I of love demand the least,
Thou biddest him to fire and feast:
When I am hungry and would eat,
There is no bread, though crusts were sweet.
If I with manna may be fed,
Shall I go all uncomforted?
Nay! Howsoever dear thou art,
I will not give thee all my heart.

.....I Will Not Give Thee All My Heart by Grace Hazard Conkling

Daffodils

For oft, when on my couch I lie
...In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
...Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

.....Daffodils by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

Love is a bog

Love is a bog, a deep bog, a wide bog.
Love is a clog, a great clog, a close clog.
'Tis a wilderness to lose ourselves.
...Then draw Dun out o' the mire
...And throw the clog into the fire.
...Keep in the King's Highway,
...And sober, you cannot stray.
Then if you admire no female elf
The halter may go hang itself.
Drink wine and be merry, for love is a folly
And dwells in the house of melancholy.

.....Love is a bog by James Shirley

Between Your Sheets

Ah Lindamira, could you see my heart,
How fond, how true, how free from fraudful art,
The warmest glances poorly do explain
The eager wish, the melting throbbing pain
Which through my very blood and soul I feel,
Which you cannot believe nor I reveal,
Which every metaphor must render less
And yet (methinks) which I could well express
......between your sheets.

.....Between Your Sheets by Lady Mary Wortley Mantagu (1689-1762)

Ode in May

What is so sweet and dear
...As a prosperous morn in May,
...The confident prime of the day,
And the dauntless youth of the year,
When nothing that asks for bliss,
...Asking aright, is denied,
And half of the world a bridegroom is,
And half of the world a bride?

.....from Ode in May by Sir William Watson (1858-1935)

What the bullet sang

O Joy of creation,
......To be!
O rapture, to fly
......And be free!
Be the battle lost or won,
Though its smoke shall hide the sun,
I shall find my love--the one
......Born for me!

I shall know him where he stands
......All alone,
With the power in his hands
......Not e'erthrown;
I shall know him by his face,
By his godlike front and grace;
I shall hold him for a space
......All my own!


.....from What the Bullet sang by Bret Hart (1836-1902)