You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.
John KeatsI almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
John KeatsI love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.
John KeatsThou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that ofttimes hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
John Keats