Unto seventy years and seven, Hide your double birthright well– You, that are the brat of Heaven And the pampered heir to Hell. Let your rhymes be tinsel treasure…

So silent I when Love was by He yawned, and turned away; But Sorrow clings to my apron-str… I have so much to say.

Every love’s the love before In a duller dress. That’s the measure of my lore– Here’s my bitterness: Would I knew a little more,

When first we saw the apple tree The boughs were dark and straight, But never grief to give had we, Though Spring delayed so late. When last I came away from there

We shall have our little day. Take my hand and travel still Round and round the little way, Up and down the little hill. It is good to love again;

Dante Gabriel Rossetti Buried all of his libretti, Thought the matter over - then Went and dug them up again.

I met a man the other day– A kindly man, and serious– Who viewed me in a thoughtful way, And spoke me so, and spoke me thus… “Oh, dallying’s a sad mistake;

Oh, is it, then, Utopian To hope that I may meet a man Who’ll not relate, in accents suav… The tales of girls he used to have…

... So, praise the gods, Catullus… And let me tend you this advice, m… Take any lover that you will, or m… Except a poet. All of them are qu… It’s just the same– a quarrel or a…

Only name the day, and we’ll fly a… In the face of old traditions, To a sheltered spot, by the world… Where we’ll park our inhibitions. Come and gaze in eyes where the lo…

This is what I vow; He shall have my heart to keep, Sweetly will we stir and sleep, All the years, as now. Swift the measured sands may run;

Never love a simple lad, Guard against a wise, Shun a timid youth and sad, Hide from haunted eyes. Never hold your heart in pain

Were you to cross the world, my de… To work or love or fight, I could be calm and wistful here, And close my eyes at night. It were a sweet and gallant pain

The stars are soft as flowers, and… The hills are webs of shadow, slow… No separate leaf or single blade i… All blend to one. No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphi…

Ghosts of all my lovely sins, Who attend too well my pillow, Gay the wanton rain begins; Hide the limp and tearful willow. Turn aside your eyes and ears,