The Poetry Pages
Love (1)
Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.
-- Emily Dickinson. Proud Of My Broken Heart.
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me;
Is't not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
-- William Shakespeare. Sonnet #133.
- True Love
- Proud Of My Broken Heart
- Never Give All The Heart
- Passion Past
- Sometimes I Wonder
- Love's Secret
- The Given Heart
- When Love Is Lost
- The Definition of Love
- Greensleeves
- The Claim
- Riches
- Thy Love, Though Much, Is Not So Great
- Fly, fly, my Friends
- Beshrew That Heart...
- Confession
- Her Last Letter
- The Letters
- Ebb Tide
- Love's Ebb-Tide
- The Speed of Love
- The Speed of the Sound of Loneliness
- Unspoken Love
- No More, My Dear
