William Shakespeare – Twelfth Night Act 2 Scene 3.

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? 

O stay and hear, your true love’s coming, 

That can sing both high and low. 

Trip no further pretty sweeting, 
Journeys end in lovers meeting, 
     Every wise man’s son doth know.

What is love? ‘Tis not hereafter, 
Present mirth hath present laughter, 
     What’s to come is still unsure. 
In delay there lies no plenty, 
So come kiss me sweet and twenty, 
     Youth’s a stuff will not endure.


William Shakespeare – Sonnets

Shy love, I think of you 

As the morning air brushes the window pane, 
And how much time of all it takes to know 
The movement of your arm, the steps you take, 
The curves along your head, your ears, your hair. 
For all of this, each hand, each finger, 
Each lip, each breath, each sigh, 
Each word and sound of voice or tongue, 
 I would require an age to contemplate. 
     But for your heart your mind your thoughts, all these, 
     To love them all I need at least five centuries.


Sometimes I think 
Our heads might be enclosed 
Closer together upon the pillow’s space, 
And how into the dark deeps of your eyes 
I’d look and think of angels. Then your breath 
And all the aura of your body’s breathing 
Intoxicatedly would overwhelm me 
And I would die. For it is too much 
 That such a thing should be and I should live. 
     Surely the thought is greater than reality, 
     The sum of you and love outsteps infinity.


If happiness were like 
The flowers of June then I would take 
The best of them, roses and columbine, 
The lilies, and bind them in your hair. 
They are not more beautiful but they add 
Meaning to my love. For all our words 
Are short and lame of breath and stumble, 
And you surpass them though I know not why. 
 Shy love I think of you as the day wanes 
     And as the sun sinks deep into the ocean 
     And as the stars turn round above in silent motion.

William Shakespeare 

 In Praise of Beauty

Of all my loves this is the first and last 
That in the autumn of my years has grown, 
A secret fern, a violet in the grass, 
A final leaf where all the rest are gone. 
Would that I could give all and more, my life, 
My world, my thoughts, my arms, my breath, my future, 
My love eternal, endless, infinite, yet brief, 
As all loves are and hopes, though they endure. 
You are my sun and stars, my night, my day, 
My seasons, summer, winter, my sweet spring, 
My autumn song, the church in which I pray, 
My land and ocean, all that the earth can bring 
     Of glory and of sustenance, all that might be divine, 
     My alpha and my omega, and all that was ever mine.

Happie valentines Day – Love our life, love ourselves pour it everywhere💞💖

​Happie Valentines day my bubby and better half butter boy😘💞 
“If I should think of love 

I’d think of you, your arms uplifted, 

Tying your hair in plaits above, 

The lyre shape of your arms and shoulders, 

The soft curve of your winding head. 

No melody is sweeter, nor could Orpheus 

So have bewitched. I think of this, 

And all my universe becomes perfection. 

But were you in my arms, dear love, 

The happiness would take my breath away, 

No thought could match that ecstasy, 

No song encompass it, no other worlds. 

If I should think of love, 

I’d think of you.”
Love has no end that includes ours too😄

valentines day to all my lovely friends spread and pour love to all❤

William Shakespeare 

Bridal Song by William Shakespeare

ROSES, their sharp spines being gone, 
Not royal in their smells alone, 
But in their hue; 
Maiden pinks, of odour faint, 
Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, 
And sweet thyme true; 

Primrose, firstborn child of Ver; 
Merry springtime’s harbinger, 
With her bells dim; 
Oxlips in their cradles growing, 
Marigolds on death-beds blowing, 
Larks’-heels trim; 

All dear Nature’s children sweet 
Lie ‘fore bride and bridegroom’s feet, 
Blessing their sense! 
Not an angel of the air, 
Bird melodious or bird fair, 
Be absent hence! 

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor 
The boding raven, nor chough hoar, 
Nor chattering pye, 
May on our bride-house perch or sing, 
Or with them any discord bring, 
But from it fly!

William Shakespeare 

Aubade by William Shakespeare

HARK! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, 
And Phoebus ‘gins arise, 
His steeds to water at those springs 
On chaliced flowers that lies; 
And winking Mary-buds begin 
To ope their golden eyes: 
With everything that pretty bin, 
My lady sweet, arise! 
Arise, arise!

William Ernest Henley 

The Rain and the Wind by William Ernest Henley

The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain —
They are with us like a disease:
They worry the heart, they work the brain,
As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane,
And savage the helpless trees.

What does it profit a man to know
These tattered and tumbling skies
A million stately stars will show,
And the ruining grace of the after-glow
And the rush of the wild sunrise?

Ever the rain — the rain and the wind!
Come, hunch with me over the fire,
Dream of the dreams that leered and grinned,
Ere the blood of the Year got chilled and thinned,
And the death came on desire!