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| The Lips Of Your Love |
| by Myself |
| The lips of your love Are like the red of your hair, Soft and enchanting, Which I long to share. The curves of your body Are like your blue silken dress, Attractive and stunning, Which I long to caress. The warmth of your flesh Is like your beautiful face, Fair and unblemished, Which I long to embrace. |
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| Sonnet XLIII |
| from Sonnets From The Portuguese |
| by Elizabeth Barrett Browning |
| How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. |
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| Love And Sleep |
| by A C Swinburne |
| Lying asleep between the strokes of night I saw my love lean over my sad bed, Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head, Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite, Too wan for blushing and too warm for white, But perfect-coloured without white or red. And her lips opened amorously, and said - I wist not what, saving one word - Delight. And all her face was honey to my mouth, And all her body pasture to mine eyes; The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire, The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south, The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire. |
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| Copyright @ 2000 Graham S |
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