Love, Love is the thread
That has pierced them with bliss!
All their hues are but notes
In one world-wide tune:
Lips, willows and waves,
We are one as we kiss,
And your face and the flowers
Faint away in the moon.
—Alfred Noyes
Wishes
Go, little book, and wish to all
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,
A bin of wine, a spice of wit,
A house with lawns enclosing it,
A living river by the door,
A nightingale in the sycamore.
—Robert Louis Stevenson
Evanescence
I saw, I saw the lovely child
I watch'd her by the way,
I learnt her gestures sweet and wild
Her loving eyes and gay.
Her name?—I heard not, nay, nor care;
Enough it was for me
To find her innocently fair
And delicately free.
O cease and go ere dreams be done,
Nor trace the angel's birth,
Nor find the Paradisal one
A blossom of the earth!
Thus is it with our subtlest joys,—
How quick the soul's alarm!
How lightly deed or word destroys
That evanescent charm!