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• Thou wast that all to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and shrine, All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine.
  -- Edgar Allan Poe...
• Duke. And what 's her history? Vio. A blank, my lord.
  She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek...
• Some reckon time by stars, And some by hours; Some measure days by dreams And some by flowe
  My heart alone records My days and hours. -- Madison J. Cawein,_Some Reckon Time by Stars_...
• Oh, call my brother back to me! I cannot play alone
  The summer comes with flower and bee,-- Where is my brother gone?...
• In the first days Of my distracting grief, I found myself As women wish to be who love their lords.
  -- John Home (1724-1808) -- Douglas, Act i, Sc. 1...
• Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it i
  hat I may know how frail I am. -- Old Testament -- Psalm xxxix, 4...
• Yet in my lineaments they trace Some features of my father's face.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Parisina, Stanza 13...
• Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And hating no one, love but only her!
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 177...
• My way of life Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf
  And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have...