He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats
LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY

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 world is single;
     All things by a 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 the sunlight clasps the earth,
     And the moonbeams kiss the sea:-
What are all these kissings worth,
     If thou kiss not me?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
     And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
     And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
     Some days must be dark and dreary.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

WHEN WE TWO PARTED

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted, 
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss:
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow;
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me.
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well;
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met:
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?-
With silence and tears.

Byron