When You Love
by Aphra Behn
when you Love, or speak of it,
Make no serious matter on it,
It will make but subject for her wit
And gain her scorn in lieu of Grant.
Sneering, whining, dull Grimasses
Pale the Appetite, they'd move;
Only Boys and formal Asses
Thus are Ridicul'd by Love.
while you make Mystery
Of Your Love and awful flame;
Young and tender Hearts will fly,
Frighted at the very name;
Always brisk and gayly court,
Make Love your pleasure not your pain,
It is by wanton play and sport
Heedless Virgins you will gain.
At first glance I would have never known the value that lied within you,
For such a tender age of sixteen you don’t often see the things in life that are so true.
But then as I got to know you my heart just began to melt,
For these were not normal feelings—
this was more than I have ever felt.
As time went on through the years we finally became one as a team,
But then things got hazy I felt as if I was living a dream.
A dream that had its ups and downs,
There were some smiles and laughters as well as some frowns.
Going through life isn’t always easy,
But having you by my side always seemed to please me.
Now you ask me on bended knee to be your lawfully wedded wife,
And I look at you with honor for you are my love, my life.
So I will give you my hand in marriage as well as my heart and soul,
You are the better half of me that makes me whole.
And as we drift off on our dream honeymoon to the
beautiful islands of Hawaii where the skies are so blue,
I want you to know you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me—
for you have made all my dreams come true.
the river of life
thomas campbell 生命之川
the more we live, more brief appear
our life's succeeding stages;
a day to childhood seems a year,
and years like passing ages.
the gladsome current of our youth,
ere passion yet disorders,
steals lingering like a river smooth,
along its grassy borders.
but as the care-worn cheets grow wan,
and sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
ye stars, that measure life to man,
why seem your courses quicker?
when joys have lost their bloom and breath
and life itself is vapid,
why, as we reach the falls of death,
feel we its tide more rapid?
it may be strange-yet who would change
time's coures to slower speeding,
when one by one our friends have gone
and left our bosoms bleeding?
heaven gives our years of fading strength
and those of youth,a seeming length,
proportion'd their sweetness.