Love Letter

BY SYLVIA PLATH

Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch, no--
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.

That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter--
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.

And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.

Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.

Love Me At Last

BY ALICE CORBIN

Love me at last, or if you will not,
Leave me;
Hard words could never, as these half-words,
Grieve me:
Love me at last---or leave me.

Love me at last, or let the last word uttered
Be but your own;
Love me, or leave me---as a cloud, a vapor,
Or a bird flown.
Love me at last---I am but sliding water
Over a stone.

Love Me Not

BY JOHN WILBYE

Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part:
No, nor for a constant !
For these may fail or turn to ill:
Should and I sever.

Keep, therefore, a true man's eye,
And love me still, but know not why!
So hast the same reason still
To dote upon me ever.

Love's Philosophy

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the  is single;
All things by law divine
In one another's being mingle;--
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another
No sister flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;
What are all these kissings worth
If kiss not me?

Lines

BY ANNA SAWYER

Those are the features, those the smiles,
That first engag'd my virgin heart:
I feel the pencil'd image true,
I feel the mimic pow'r of art.

For ever on my soul engrav'd
His glowing cheek, his manly mien;
I need not thee, thou painted shade,
To tell me what my Love has been.

O dearer now, tho' bent with age,
Than in the pride of blooming youth!
I knew not then his constant heart,
I knew not then his matchless truth.

Full many a year, at random tost,
The spot of many an adverse gale,
Together, hand in hand, we've stray'd
O'er dreary hill, and lonely vale.

Hope only flattered to betray,
Her keenest shafts misfortune shot:
In spite of prudence, spite of care,
Dependence was our bitter lot.

Ill can'st thou bear the sneer of wealth,
Averted looks, and rustic scorn;
For thou wert born to better hopes,
And bright rose thy vernal morn.

Thy ev'ning hours to want expos'd,
I cannot, cannot bear to see:
Were but thy honest heart at ease,
I care not what becomes of me.

But tho', my Love, the winds of woe
Beat cold upon thy silver hairs,
Thy ANNA'S bosom still is warm;
Affection still shall soothe thy cares.

And Conscience, with clouded ray,
The cottage of our age will cheer;
Friendship will lift our humble latch,
And Pity pour her healing tear.

Love Song

BY MARY CAROLYN DAVIES

There is a strong wall about me to protect me:
It is built of the words you have said to me.

There are swords about me to keep me safe:
They are the kisses of your lips.

Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm:
It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger.

All the wishes of my mind know your name,
And the white desires of my heart
They are acquainted with you.
The cry of my body for completeness,
That is a cry to you.
My blood beats out your name to me, unceasing, pitiless
Your name, your name.

Love's Witness

BY APHRA BEHN

Slight unpremeditated Words are borne
    By every common Wind into the Air;
Carelessly utter’d, die as soon as born,
    And in one instant give both Hope and Fear:
Breathing all Contraries with the same Wind
According to the Caprice of the Mind.

But Billetdoux are constant Witnesses,
    Substantial Records to Eternity;
Just Evidences, who the Truth confess,
    On which the Lover safely may rely;
They’re serious Thoughts, digested and resolv’d;
And last, when Words are into Clouds devolv’d.