I touch you and your skin enjoys the keen
Outlines of pleasure which my hands devise.
She half enclosed me with her arms.
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
and bending back her head,
she looked up,’and gazed upon my face.
‘Twas partly love, and partly fear,
and partly ’twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And too often is his gold complexion dimm’d:
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance or natures changing course untrimm’d;
By thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee. By Shakespeare