“Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps… perhaps…love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.”—L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea (via quote-book)
I am the lover’s eyes, and the spirit’s Wine, and the heart’s nourishment. I am a rose. My heart opens at dawn and The virgin kisses me and places me Upon her breast.
I am the house of true fortune, and the Origin of pleasure, and the beginning Of peace and tranquility. I am the gentle Smile upon his lips of beauty. When youth Overtakes me he forgets his toil, and his Whole life becomes reality of sweet dreams.
I am the poet’s elation, And the artist’s revelation, And the musician’s inspiration.
I am a sacred shrine in the heart of a Child, adored by a merciful mother.
I appear to a heart’s cry; I shun a demand; My fullness pursues the heart’s desire; It shuns the empty claim of the voice.
I appeared to Adam through Eve And exile was his lot; Yet I revealed myself to Solomon, and He drew wisdom from my presence.
I smiled at Helena and she destroyed Tarwada; Yet I crowned Cleopatra and peace dominated The Valley of the Nile.
I am like the ages — building today And destroying tomorrow; I am like a god, who creates and ruins; I am sweeter than a violet’s sigh; I am more violent than a raging tempest.
Gifts alone do not entice me; Parting does not discourage me; Poverty does not chase me; Jealousy does not prove my awareness; Madness does not evidence my presence.
Oh seekers, I am Truth, beseeching Truth; And your Truth in seeking and receiving And protecting me shall determine my Behavior.
In the depth of my soul there is A wordless song - a song that lives In the seed of my heart. It refuses to melt with ink on Parchment; it engulfs my affection In a transparent cloak and flows, But not upon my lips.
How can I sigh it? I fear it may Mingle with earthly ether; To whom shall I sing it? It dwells In the house of my soul, in fear of Harsh ears.
When I look into my inner eyes I see the shadow of its shadow; When I touch my fingertips I feel its vibrations.
The deeds of my hands heed its Presence as a lake must reflect The glittering stars; my tears Reveal it, as bright drops of dew Reveal the secret of a withering rose.
It is a song composed by contemplation, And published by silence, And shunned by clamor, And folded by truth, And repeated by dreams, And understood by love, And hidden by awakening, And sung by the soul.
It is the song of love; What Cain or Esau could sing it?
It is more fragrant than jasmine; What voice could enslave it?
It is heartbound, as a virgin’s secret; What string could quiver it?
Who dares unite the roar of the sea And the singing of the nightingale? Who dares compare the shrieking tempest To the sigh of an infant? Who dares speak aloud the words Intended for the heart to speak? What human dares sing in voice The song of God?
The strong shore is my beloved And I am his sweetheart. We are at last united by love, and Then the moon draws me from him. I go to him in haste and depart Reluctantly, with many Little farewells.
I steal swiftly from behind the Blue horizon to cast the silver of My foam upon the gold of his sand, and We blend in melted brilliance.
I quench his thirst and submerge his Heart; he softens my voice and subdues My temper. At dawn I recite the rules of love upon His ears, and he embraces me longingly.
At eventide I sing to him the song of Hope, and then print smooth hisses upon His face; I am swift and fearful, but he Is quiet, patient, and thoughtful. His Broad bosom soothes my restlessness.
As the tide comes we caress each other, When it withdraws, I drop to his feet in Prayer.
Many times have I danced around mermaids As they rose from the depths and rested Upon my crest to watch the stars; Many times have I heard lovers complain Of their smallness, and I helped them to sigh.
Many times have I teased the great rocks And fondled them with a smile, but never Have I received laughter from them; Many times have I lifted drowning souls And carried them tenderly to my beloved Shore. He gives them strength as he Takes mine.
Many times have I stolen gems from the Depths and presented them to my beloved Shore. He takes them in silence, but still I give fro he welcomes me ever.
In the heaviness of night, when all Creatures seek the ghost of Slumber, I Sit up, singing at one time and sighing At another. I am awake always.
Alas! Sleeplessness has weakened me! But I am a lover, and the truth of love Is strong. I may be weary, but I shall never die.
I am a kind word uttered and repeated By the voice of Nature; I am a star fallen from the Blue tent upon the green carpet. I am the daughter of the elements With whom Winter conceived; To whom Spring gave birth; I was Reared in the lap of Summer and I Slept in the bed of Autumn.
At dawn I unite with the breeze To announce the coming of light; At eventide I join the birds In bidding the light farewell.
The plains are decorated with My beautiful colors, and the air Is scented with my fragrance.
As I embrace Slumber the eyes of Night watch over me, and as I Awaken I stare at the sun, which is The only eye of the day.
I drink dew for wine, and hearken to The voices of the birds, and dance To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.
I am the lover’s gift; I am the wedding wreath; I am the memory of a moment of happiness; I am the last gift of the living to the dead; I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.
But I look up high to see only the light, And never look down to see my shadow. This is wisdom which man must learn.
Advance, and never halt, for advancing is perfection. Advance and do not fear the thorns in the path, for they draw only corrupt blood.
And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
Generosity is giving more than you can, and pride is taking less than you need.
Let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
March on. Do not tarry. To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life’s path.
Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.
Progress lies not in enhancing what is, but in advancing toward what will be.
Safeguarding the rights of others is the most noble and beautiful end of a human being.
Truth is a deep kindness that teaches us to be content in our everyday life and share with the people the same happiness.
Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens.
I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of my power,—-that the path before me was closed, that provisions were exhausted and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity.
But I find that thy will knows no end in me. And when old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.