Friendship
It is one word ,but many meanings-
It means bonding ,
Sharing and Caring ,
Knowing each other ,
It is one word ,but many meanings-
It means bonding ,
Sharing and Caring ,
Knowing each other ,
I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;
That never shall I wake to find untrue All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone Out into the night
I know no fitter subject for your view Then this, a meditation ripe for you,
As you for it
Which when you read you'l see What kind of wife your self will one day bee:
Which happy day be neer you, and may this Remain with you as earn...
Thou that wast once my loved and loving friend,
A friend no more,
I had forgot thee quite,
Why hast thou come to trouble my
I see that wreath which doth the wearer arm 'Gainst the quick strokes of thunder, is no charm To keep off deaths pale dart
For,
Johnson then Thou hadst been number'd still with living men
Times sithe had fear'd thy Lawrel to invade,
UR troubles shrink not, though I feel them less Here, far away, than when I tarried near; I even smile old smiles—with listlessness— Yet smiles they are, not ghastly mockeries mere
A thought too strange to house within my brain Haunting its o...
The people take the thing of course, They marvel not to
This strange, unnatural divorce Betwixt delight and me
I know the face of sorrow, and I
Her voice with all its varied cadences;
God knows it,
I am with you
If to
Those virtues, priz'd and practis'd by too few,
Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house and I Do equally desire your company:
Not that we think us worthy such a guest, But that your worth will dignify our feast With those that come; whose grace may make that seem Something, which else could...
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
To bind him for a girl, and tame the boar,
And drive these beasts before his chariot,
Might wed Alcestis
BE void of feeling
A heart that soon is stirr'd,
Is a possession
Upon this changing earth
In this evil year, autumn comes early…I walk by night in the field, alone, the rain clatters,
The wind on my hat…And you
And you, my friend
You are standing—maybe—and seeing the sickle