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| EARTH ANGEL-Ena Ofugara |
| Sometimes in our lives |
| we are blessed to meet |
| like honey from beehives |
| someone so sweet |
| One whose demeanor is quiescent |
| and smile ethereal |
| whose visage is without a dent |
| and very existence a thrill |
| So when beauty is this sublime |
| like snowflakes on a distant clime |
| not to say so would be a crime |
| 'cos mother nature got it right this time |
| If I had to choose |
| what I'd keep |
| and what I'd lose |
| between you of all my friends |
| and a brand new Mercedes Benz |
| I Wouldn't even see the car |
| because you are prettier by far. |
| The Passionate Shepherd To His Love --Christopher Marlowe Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steeply mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold, A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love. |
| She Walks in Beauty (Excerpt) --Lord Byron She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: This mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling place. |
| How Do I Love Thee? Elizabeth Barrett Browning How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of every day's. Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use. In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints - I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. |
| One Art |
| The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to mater. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! My last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (*Write* it!) like disaster. |
| An Exercise in Sadness |
| Steichen's roses have faces in them I've seen on a few sad occasions. Occasions for sadness can be found anywhere. Now I'm aware in this intuitive way of the absence at my back. How do I explain it? I lie in bed, alone. I turn over to my side. No hand moves between my shoulders. No lap molds itself to the elbow of my knees The smell of me, me alone, rises warmly from under the covers. I toss and turn. I turn wearily towards the lack of you, hold still as if to hold you still. |
| One Can |
| One can fall in love as often as a tree grows leaves. It is perfectly natural but not free of guilt and complications, unless one takes oneself to be a leaf. |
| --David Ignato |
| At First Sight |
| Love at first sight,' some say, misnaming discovery of twinned helplessness against the huge tug of procreation. But friendship at first sight? This also Catches fiercely at the surprised heart So that the cheek blanches and then blushes. |
| ABOUT LOVE Odeh-John Linus |
| Love is the only rainbow on life's dark cloud. It is the morning and the evening star. It shines upon the living and shed its radiance on the quiet tombs. It is the mother of art, inspirer of poets, patriots and philosophers. It is the air and light of every heart, builder of every home, kindler of every fire on every heart. It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody- for music is the voice of love. Love is the magician, the enchanter that changes worthless things to joy and makes royals; kings and Queens of common clay. It is the perfume of that wonderous flower; the heart, and without that sacred passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts; but with it, earth is heaven and we are demi-gods. Love is a transfiguration, it enables, purifies, glorifies....... Love is a revelation, a creation. From love, the world borrows its beauty and the heavens their glory. Justice, self denial, charity and purity are the children of love. Without love, all glory fades and the noble falls from life, art dies, music loses meaning and becomes mere motions on the air, virtues ceases to exist. Love heads the list of the 9 basic motives of life which inspires all voluntary actions of people. Through the emotions of love a wife may send her husband to his daily labour in a spirit which knows no such reality as failure. But remember that "nagging" jealousy, fault-finding and indifference do not feed the emotion of love. They kill it. If a man is truly great, he will love all mankind, because God is LOVE. |
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| --Robert Graves |
| ----Gabrielle Glancy |
| ---E . Bishop |
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