Your heart is a music-box, dearest!
With exquisite tunes at command,
Of melody sweetest and clearest,
If tried by a delicate hand;
But its workmanship, love, is so fine,
At a single rude touch it would break;
Then, oh! be the magic key mine,
Its fairy-like whispers to wake.
And there’s one little tune it can play,
That I fancy all others above,-
You learned it of Cupid one day,-
It begins with and ends with “I love!”
My heart echoes to it “I love!”
~ Frances Sargent Osgood
Tell me, O people, tell me!
Who among you would not wake from the sleep of life
if love were to brush your spirit with its fingertips?
Who among you would not cross the seas, traverse deserts,
go over mountains and valleys to reach the woman whom his spirit has chosen?
What youth would not follow his heart to the ends of the earth
to breathe the sweetness of his lover’s breath, feel the soft touch of her hands,
delight in the melody of her voice? ~Kahlil Gibran
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me-who knows how? –
To thy chamber-window, sweet!
O, lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:
Oh! press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear;