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A Poet to his Beloved

They say that when we fall in love it is forever, and perhaps that is true. Even though we change who we are through time, through our life experiences, through emotions, through the dreams and hopes we follow, we remember and we forget; and even though those whom we love change as well . . . Love persists in our souls eternally, as a timeless flame.


"A Poet to his Beloved" by William Butler Yeats

I bring you with reverent hands the books of m numberless dreams, White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-grey sands, And with heart more old than the horn That is brimmed from the pale fire of time; White woman with numberless dreams I bring you my passionate rhyme. ~

And if you shall ever try to measure love, measure it in passion; remember all the things that your lover did for you, how much your lover inspired you, how much he/she admires you, and how much he/she cares for you. And if you ever let him be, or let her be, then let it be, because it takes reading “Romeo and Juliet” to understand that the world may be too cruel sometimes and keep lovers apart, but it takes reading poems like these to understand that nor distance nor time can kill love. ~

"He tells of the Perfect Beauty" by William Butler Yeats

O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets laboring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skies; And therefore my heart will bow, when dew is dropping sleep, until God burn time, Before the unlabouring stars and you. ~

And if love ever kills you, let it kill you, because there’s no greater passion in life to live for, and there’s no greater passion in life to die for.

Here’s to all the lovers out there . . .

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