Come! in thy veil of ashen cloud
With mists around thee, like a shroud,
And wan face colored with no light
Of sun or moon, by day or night;
I would not see thee glad and gay,
Dark month! that called my Love away!

I would not see thee otherwise,
Gray month! that hast the dying eyes;
Cold month! that com'st with icy hands
Chaining the waters and the lands!
So didst thou chill two hearts at play,
Dark month! that called my Love away!

And yet, I know, behind thy mists
The bright Sun shines, Love's star subsists!

… The astonished nymphs their flood's strange fate deplore,
To see themselves their own severer shore.
Thou that alone canst thaw this cold,
And fetch the heart from its stronghold,
Almighty Love! end this long war,
And of a meteor make a star.
Oh, fix this fair indefinite,
And, 'mongst thy shafts of sovereign light
Choose out that sure decisive dart
Which has the key of this close heart,
Knows all the corners of't, and can control
The self-shut cabinet of an unsearched soul …
Disband dull fears, give faith the day;

Donating for sutra-chanting a box she used to carry with her:
That she may know I love her and miss her — clinking a bell, thinking of her, without a moment's interval

There's no color called love in this world, yet how thoroughly it has dyed my heart!

Loving you, my heart may shatter into a thousand pieces, but not one piece will be lost

When thou thy pliant Arms dost wreath
About my Neck, and gently breath
Into my Breast that soft sweet Air
With which thy Soul doth mine repair,
When my faint Life thou draw'st away,
My Life which scorching Flames decay,
Orecharg'd my panting Bosom boyles,
Whose Feavour thy kind Art beguiles,
And with the Breath that did inspire
Doth mildly fan my glowing Fire,
Transported then I cry, above
All other Deities is Love!
Or if a Deity there be
Greater then Love, 'tis onely Thee.

They show no inclination
to truly come to blows.

To fall in love
or to fall out of love —
both end in tears.

If this jewel thread of life
is to break, let it break:
living on
would be to endure
love's torment alone.

Not fleeting drops
of dew nor tears will pause:
winds of autumn
sweep the dwelling
loved by one now gone.

Though I try to hide them,
my countenance betrays
my feelings:
now everyone is asking
" Are you in love? "