SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY <\/strong><\/p>\nShe walks in beauty, like the night<\/p>\n
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;<\/p>\n
And all that\u2019s best of dark and bright<\/p>\n
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:<\/p>\n
Thus mellow\u2019d to that tender light<\/p>\n
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.<\/p>\n
One shade the more, one ray the less,<\/p>\n
Had half impair\u2019d the nameless grace<\/p>\n
Which waves in every raven tress,<\/p>\n
Or softly lightens o\u2019er her face;<\/p>\n
Where thoughts serenely sweet express<\/p>\n
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.<\/p>\n
And on that cheek, and o\u2019er that brow,<\/p>\n
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,<\/p>\n
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,<\/p>\n
But tell of days in goodness spent,<\/p>\n
A mind at peace with all below,<\/p>\n
A heart whose love is innocent!<\/p>\n
\u2013 Lord Byron<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n
FIRST LOVE <\/strong><\/p>\nI ne\u2019er was struck before that hour<\/p>\n
With love so sudden and so sweet.<\/p>\n
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower<\/p>\n
And stole my heart away complete.<\/p>\n
My face turned pale, a deadly pale.<\/p>\n
My legs refused to walk away,<\/p>\n
And when she looked what could I ail<\/p>\n
My life and all seemed turned to clay.<\/p>\n
And then my blood rushed to my face<\/p>\n
And took my eyesight quite away.<\/p>\n
The trees and bushes round the place<\/p>\n
Seemed midnight at noonday.<\/p>\n
I could not see a single thing,<\/p>\n
Words from my eyes did start.<\/p>\n
They spoke as chords do from the string,<\/p>\n
And blood burnt round my heart.<\/p>\n
Are flowers the winter\u2019s choice<\/p>\n
Is love\u2019s bed always snow<\/p>\n
She seemed to hear my silent voice<\/p>\n
Not love appeals to know.<\/p>\n
I never saw so sweet a face<\/p>\n
As that I stood before.<\/p>\n
My heart has left its dwelling place<\/p>\n
And can return no more.<\/p>\n
\u2014 John Claire <\/em><\/p>\n\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\nI LOVED YOU FIRST; BUT AFTERWARDS YOUR LOVE <\/strong><\/p>\nI loved you first: but afterwards your love<\/p>\n
Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song<\/p>\n
As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.<\/p>\n
Which owes the other most? my love was long,<\/p>\n
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;<\/p>\n
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me<\/p>\n
And loved me for what might or might not be \u2013<\/p>\n
Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.<\/p>\n
For verily love knows not \u2018mine\u2019 or \u2018thine;\u2019<\/p>\n
With separate \u2018I\u2019 and \u2018thou\u2019 free love has done,<\/p>\n
For one is both and both are one in love:<\/p>\n
Rich love knows nought of \u2018thine that is not mine;\u2019<\/p>\n
Both have the strength and both the length thereof,<\/p>\n
Both of us, of the love which makes us one.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Christina Rossetti <\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n
A VALENTINE TO MY WIFE <\/strong><\/p>\nAccept, dear girl, this little token,<\/p>\n
And if between the lines you seek,<\/p>\n
You\u2019ll find the love I\u2019ve often spoken<\/p>\n
The love my dying lips shall speak.<\/p>\n
Our little ones are making merry<\/p>\n
O\u2019er am\u2019rous ditties rhymed in jest,<\/p>\n
But in these words (though awkward very)<\/p>\n
The genuine article\u2019s expressed.<\/p>\n
You are as fair and sweet and tender,<\/p>\n
Dear brown-eyed little sweetheart mine,<\/p>\n
As when, a callow youth and slender,<\/p>\n
I asked to be your Valentine.<\/p>\n
What though these years of ours be fleeting?<\/p>\n
What though the years of youth be flown?<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll mock old Tempus with repeating,<\/p>\n
\u201cI love my love and her alone!\u201d<\/p>\n
And when I fall before his reaping,<\/p>\n
And when my stuttering speech is dumb,<\/p>\n
Think not my love is dead or sleeping,<\/p>\n
But that it waits for you to come.<\/p>\n
So take, dear love, this little token,<\/p>\n
And if there speaks in any line<\/p>\n
The sentiment I\u2019d fain have spoken,<\/p>\n
Say, will you kiss your Valentine?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Eugene Field <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Poems are an inspiration, and…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":17170,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0},"categories":[79],"tags":[3097],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29790"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=29790"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29790\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":29791,"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29790\/revisions\/29791"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/17170"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=29790"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=29790"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elcrema.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=29790"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}