"Desire" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame;

It is the reflex of our earthly frame,

That takes its meaning from the nobler part,

And but translates the language of the heart.

"She Tells Her Love" by Alfred Graves
She tell her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,

With half-words whispered low:

As Earth stirs in her winter sleep

And puts out grass and flowers

Despite the snow,

Despite the falling snow.

Excerpt from "Lullaby" by W. H. Auden
Lay Your Sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm:

Time and fevers burn away

Individual beauty from

Thoughtful children, and the grave

Proves the child ephemeral:

But in my arms till break of day

Let the living creature lie,

Mortal, guilty, but to me

The entirely beautiful.

"Habitation" by Margaret Atwood
Marriage is not
a house or even a tent

it is before that, and colder:

the edge of the forest, the edge

of the desert

the unpainted stairs

at the back where we squat

outside, eating popcorn

the edge of the receding glacier

where painfully and with wonder

at having survived even this far

we are learning to make fire

"Love Not Me" by John Wilbye
Love not me for comely grace,

For my pleasing eye or face,

Nor for any outward part:

No, nor for a constant !

For these may fail or turn to ill:

Should and I sever.

Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,

And love me still, but know not why!

So hast the same reason still