I carry your heart with me: E.E Cummings

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in
my heart),

I am never without it (Anywhere
I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,
my darling),

I fear no fate (For you are my fate,
my sweet),

I want no world (for beautiful you
are my world, my true),

And it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant,

And whatever a sun will always sing is you.

Here is the deepest secret,

Nobody knows,
(Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a
tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide),

And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.

I carry your heart (i carry it
in my heart)

Life's Tragedy : Paul Lawrence Dunbar

It may be a misery not to sing at all,
and to go silent through the brimming day;
it may be a misery never to be loved,
but deeper griefs than these beset the way.

To sing a perfect song,
and by half-tone lost key,
there the potent sorrow, there the grief,
there the pale, sad staring of Life's Tragedy.

To have come near to the perfect love,
not the hot passion of untempered youth,
but that which lies aside its vanity,
and gives for thy, for thy trusting worship, truth.

This indeed, this to be accursed,
for if we mortals love, or if we sing,
we count our joys not of what we have,
but by what kept us from that perfect thing.

Love Sonnet 40 : William Shakespeare

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.
Then if for my love thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest,
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.

Your children: Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seem to make them like you. For life goes not backwards nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The Archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the Archer's hand be for gladness; for even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He also loves the bow that is stable.

How do I love thee? : Elizabeth Barret 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 candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use,
In my old grief, and in my childhood's faith.
I love thee with love I seemed to lose,
With my lost saints,...I love thee with the breadth,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! ...and if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Dreams : Langston Hughes

Hold onto dreams,
for if dreams die,
life is like a broken-winged bird,
that cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams,
for when dreams go,
life is a barren field,
frozen with snow.

A Poem of Friendship: Nikki Giovanni

We are not lovers,
because of the love,
we make,
but the love,
we have.

We are not friends,
because of the laughs,
we spend,
but the tears,
we save.

I will never miss you,
because of what we do,
but what we are,
together.

I do not love you except because I love you : Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you,
I go from loving to not loving you,
from waiting to not waiting for you,
my heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you because it's you the one I love,
I hate you deeply and hating you,
bend to you and the measure of my changing love for you,
is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

May be January light will consume,
my heart with it's cruel ray,
stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who dies,
the only one and I will die of love because I love you,
because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.