The tender breezes till the day be spent;
Only the fool chokes out lifeâ€™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 â€˜s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
I and my Annabel Leeâ€“
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
Have ye eâ€™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 wiâ€™ the sun!
O I will luve thee still, my Dear,
While the sands oâ€™ 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