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But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But, with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in every power,
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.
One half of me is yours, the other half yours
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours.
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause
But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
The prize of all too precious you.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
What made me love thee? let that persuade thee
there's something extraordinary in thee. I cannot: but I love thee; none
but thee; and thou deservest it.
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love.
Love is a smoke made with the fumes of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears;
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Love is a spirit all compact of fire.
(Venus and Adonis, 151)
She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i'th' bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
Deep sad love quotes
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