I love her with the seasons, with the winds,
As the stars worship, as anemones
Shudder in secret for the sun, as bees
Buzz round an open flower: in all kinds
My love is perfect, and in each she finds
Herself the goal: then why, intent to teaze
And rob her delicate spirit of its ease,
Hastes she to range me with inconstant minds?
If she should die, if I were left at large
On earth without her-I, on earth, the same
Quick mortal with a thousand cries, her spell
She fears would break. And I confront the charge
As sorrowing, and as careless of my fame
As Christ intact before the infidel.

Your eyelashes hold the tears
of a thousand men and womens sorrows,
you speak to the dead
and yet, and yet
you scream happiness.
you bite your tongue in the arch
of every conversation
afraid of twisting words through your teeth,
It's sunny outside baby,
wipe the dust off the window
with your green sweater,
green was never your colour
leave your house
breathe in freedom
and exhale the voices of the dead,
let them go home, baby,
stop holding on
Kiss me without the taste of dust
on your lips,
break the frozen grass with your bare feet,
Exhale the dead, baby.

So breaks the sun earth's rugged chains,
      Wherein rude winter bound her veins;
So grows both stream and source of price,
      That lately fettered were with ice.
So naked trees get crisped heads,
      And colored coats the roughest meads,
And all get vigor, youth, and spright,
      That are but looked on by his light.