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, beca...
In the 1860’s, Emily Dickinson lived in physical isolation from the outside world. She remained socially active only through correspondences and letters, and read. With time, she acquired local notoriety; she dressed completely in white and she was rarely seen by her neighbors unless it was absolutely necessary. As early as 1867, she began to talk to visitors from the other side of a door rather than speaking them face to face. Austin (her old brother) and her family began to protect her privacy, deciding that she was not to be subject of discussion with outsiders. However, she used to send over small gifts of poems and flowers to visitors who came to her family’s homestead.
This is one of her most popular poems, perhaps one of the most memorable ones.