The tender breezes till the day be spent;
Only the fool chokes out life’s sentiment.
She is a prize too lovely to forsake . . .
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that ‘s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
I and my Annabel Lee–
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street.
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun!
O I will luve thee still, my Dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.
“Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers’ tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.”
~Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare