Intheeyeofthestorm

You love to say ... (John Keats) Irene Love Jonny..

You love to say ...

You love to say, but his voice
more chaste than that of a nun singing
sweets Vespers for themselves alone
when the bell rings -
O love me truly!

You say you love, but with a smile
Cold as sunrise in September,
like I was the sister of St. Cupid,
devoted to Lent -
O love me truly!

You say you love, but your mouth
red coral gives less happiness
corals under the sea
never asks kisses -
O love me truly!

You say you love, but your hand
with sweet narrow the close does not tighten;
such as statue is dead -
while my passion burns -
O love me truly!
O murmurs words of fire!

Smile, as if these words were to burn,
hold me as does the lover - O kisses
and your heart is' my urn -
O love me truly!
(John Keats)

(David Herbert Lawrence) Love Irene Jonny...

The end

If I could hold you in my heart,
if only I could wrap you in me,
as I would have been happy!
But now the memory card before
once again I unrolled the course
of our journey so far, here where we part.

And to say that you've never, ever been
some own reality, my love,
and never any of your various faces I have seen!
Yet they come to me and they go,
I cry and strong in those moments.

Oh, my love, like tonight tremble for you,
even without any hope
alleviar of suffering or reward
for a lifetime of desire and despair.
I recognize that a part of me died tonight!
(David Herbert Lawrence)

(Elizabeth Barret Browning) Irene Love Jonny

If you love me do it,
but only for pure love

If you love me, do so, but only
of pure love. Never say
"I love the look, the look and
speaking kind, or because his thought

agrees with mine, and certainly that day
gave me a sense of pleasure. "
On their own, these things love can
change, or change for thee, and love born this way

so it could be destroyed. I do not ever love
for the sweet mercy that wipes my cheek;
crying may forget a creature that bores

your eternal comfort, and love so lost!
But love me only pure love, which always
m'amerai for the eternity of love.
(Elizabeth Barret Browning)

SONNET CXVIII (William Shakespeare) Irene Love Jonny.

How to make sharp appetites,
s'urge the palate with sauces that gnaw
or, ere it bad to wake up, with purges
we get sick to ward off diseases,

your full of sweetness insatiable
I gondii food with sour mix;
welfare infiacca, and almost amai
before being forced to suffer.

So the cunning of love anticipating
evil is not born, grew to some error,
un'eccedente salure stremando

by giving to the illness being treated too well.
But there learned the lesson and learned:
those who are sick of you, try poisons.
(William Shakespeare)

The sources are mixed with the river (Percy Bysshe Shelley) Irene Love Jonny..

The sources are mixed with the river
the rivers with the ocean
the winds of Heaven always
gentle movements join in
nothing in the world is single
and all for God
law in force
meets and mingles.
Why not I with you?

See the mountains kiss the top
of Heaven, and that the waves one by one
embrace. No sister-flower
would live more backlinks
to his brother-flower.
And the glow of the sun embraces the earth
and the rays of the moon kiss the sea.
What all this work tender
if you do not want to kiss me?
(Percy Bysshe Shelley)