Today I asked the man who changes
Tumans for rubles, one for two,
How should I say to the fair Leila
in Persian softly: "I love you."

Today I asked the money-changer,
In tones as soft as Lake Van's kiss,
How should I make to the fair Leila
sweet references to "kiss."

I further asked the old man,
Trying to confine my shyness,
How should I say to the fair Leila
the simple phrase that she is "mine."

And he replied to me thus briefly:
Love can’t be told in any phrase,
For love, one can but sigh in secret,
While loving eyes, like rubies, blaze.

A kiss has no name you can utter,
On tombs you don’t inscribe a kiss.
Like roses red do kisses flutter,
Their petals melting on the lips.

From love, no vow can be demanded,
Both joy and woe come in its trail.
That "you are mine" can whisper only
Hands that have torn away the veil.

FIRST LOVE

I ne’er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale,
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start—
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter’s choice?
Is love’s bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more.
— John Clare

INFANT JOY

I have no name
I am but two days old.
What shall I call thee?
I happy am
Joy is my name,
Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old,
Sweet joy I call thee;
Thou dost smile.
I sing the while
Sweet joy befall thee.

— William Blake

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

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.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty. But one no longer has the right to say so loud.

— Joan Didion

? WE REAL COOL

The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

— Gwendolyn Brooks