| John Donne
"The Good Morrow"
| Sir Philip Sidney
"My True Love"
| Anne Bradstreet
"To my Dear and Loving Husband"
|John Boyle O'Reilly
"A White Rose"
|Walter von der Vogelweide
"Unter den Linden"
| Christina Rosetti
| John Donne
The Good Morrow
I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?
’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.
And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.
Sir Philip Sidney
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange, one for the other given.
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
I cherish his, because in me it bides.
His heart his wound receivèd from my sight;
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart,
For as from me on him his hurt did light,
So still methought in me his hurt did smart;
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss:
My true love hath my heart and I have his.
To my Dear and Loving Husband
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if ye can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold,
My love is such that rivers cannot quench
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persèvere
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
John Boyle O'Reilly
A White Rose
The red rose whispers of passion
And the white rose breathes of love;
O the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream-white rose-bud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
| Walther von der Vogelweide
Under der Linden
Under der linden an der heide,
dâ unser zweier bette was,
dâ mugt ir vinden
schône beide gebrochen bluomen unde gras.
vor dem walde in einem tal -
schöne sanc die nachtigal.
Ich kam gegangen zuo der ouwe,
dô was mîn friedel komen ê.
da wart ich enpfangen hêre frouwe,
daz ich bin sælic iemer mê.
kuster mich? wol tûsenstunt!
seht, wie rôt mir ist der munt.
Dô het er gemachet also riche
von bluomen eine bettestat.
des wird noch gelachet innecliche,
kumt iemen an daz selbe pfat
bî den rôsen er wol mac -
merken, wâ mirz houbet lac.
Daz er bî mir læge, wessez iemen,
- nu enwelle got - sô schamt ich mich.
wes er mit mir pflæge, niemer niemen
bevinde daz wan er unt ich
und ein kleinez vogellîn!
daz mag wol getriuwe sîn.
| Christina Rosetti|
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a daïs of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.