2.  Silvia  WHO is Silvia? What is she? That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring. William Shakespeare http://www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com Click above on www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com To go to next page or if you want click on This link to go to website for poem.

3.  A Face  If one could have that little head of hers Painted upon a background of pure gold, Such as the Tuscan's early art prefers! No shade encroaching on the matchless mould Of those two lips, which should be opening soft In the pure profile; not as when she laughs, For that spoils all: but rather as if aloft Yon hyacinth, she loves so, leaned its staff's Burden of honey-colored buds to kiss And capture 'twixt the lips apart for this. Then her little neck, three fingers might surround, How it should waver on the pale gold ground Up to the fruit-shaped, perfect chin it lifts! I know, Correggio loves to mass, in rifts Of heaven, his angel faces, orb on orb Breaking its outline, burning shades absorb: But these are only massed there, I should think, Waiting to see some wonder momently Grow out, stand full, fade slow against the sky (That's the pale ground you'd see this sweet face by), All heaven, meanwhile, condensed into one eye Which fears to lose the wonder, should it wink. Robert Browning http://www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com

4.  A Farewell  Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, Thy tribute wave deliver: No more by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, A rivulet then a river: Nowhere by thee my steps shall be For ever and for ever. But here will sigh thine alder tree And here thine aspen shiver; And here by thee will hum the bee, For ever and for ever. A thousand suns will stream on thee, A thousand moons will quiver; But not by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. Alfred Lord Tennyson http://www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com

5.  MY BONNIE MARY  by: Robert Burns (1759-1796)  O fetch to me a pint o' wine, An' fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink, before I go, A service to my bonnie lassie. The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith, Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry, The ship rides by the Berwick-law, And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The glittering spears are rankèd ready; The shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes thick and bloody; But it's no the roar o' sea or shore Wad mak me langer wish to tarry; Nor shout o' war that's heard afar-- It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary! http://www.poemhunter.com

6.  A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe (published 1850)  Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow -- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone ? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand -- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep -- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? http://www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com

7.  Bright Star Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors-- No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever--or else swoon to death. John Keats http://www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com

8.  On Shakespear  What needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones, The labour of an age in piled Stones, Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, What need'st thou such weak witnes of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thy self a live-long Monument. For whilst toth' shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd Book, Those Delphick lines with deep impression took Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving, Dost make us Marble with too much conceaving; And so Sepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie, That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die. John MiltonBook http://www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com

9.  Evening  Oh! thou bright-beaming god, the plains are thirsting, Thirsting for freshening dew, and man is pining; Wearily move on thy horses-- Let, then, thy chariot descend! Seest thou her who, from ocean's crystal billows, Lovingly nods and smiles?--Thy heart must know her! Joyously speed on thy horses,-- Tethys, the goddess, 'tis nods! Swiftly from out his flaming chariot leaping, Into her arms he springs,--the reins takes Cupid,-- Quietly stand the horses, Drinking the cooling flood. Now from the heavens with gentle step descending, Balmy night appears, by sweet love followed; Mortals, rest ye, and love ye,-- Phoebus, the loving one, rests! Friedrich von Schiller http://www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com

10.  IT IS GOOD  by: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe  N Paradise while moonbeams played, Jehovah found, in slumber deep, Adam fast sunk; He gently laid Eve near him -- she, too, fell asleep. There lay they now, on earth's fair shrine, God's two most beauteous thoughts divine-- When this He saw, He cried: 'Tis good! And scarce could move from where He stood. No wonder, that our joy's complete While eye and eye responsive meet, When this blest thought of rapture moves us-- That we're with Him who truly loves us, And if He cries -- Good, let it be! 'Tis so for both, it seems to me. Thou'rt clasped within these arms of mine, Dearest of all God's thoughts divine! http://www.poemhunter.comwww.poemhunter.com Click link above takes you back to first slide