And like a ghost, she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me ("Summer Night" – Alfred Tennyson)

The winter evening settles down With smells of steaks in passageways Six o’ clock. The burnt- out ends of smoky days…. The morning comes to consciousness Of faint stale smells of beer. ("Prelude" – T.S. Eliot)

The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where we heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. ("Kubla Khan" – S.T. Coleridge)

They silently inhale the clover-scented gale, And the vapors that arise From the well-watered and smoking soil ("Rain In Summer" – H.W. Longfellow)

When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up, and all the cottage warm ("Prophyria’s Lover" – Robert Browning)

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night, Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear ("Romeo and Juliet" –W. Shakespeare)

Tender like a night in June, Sweeter than a honeymoon, Brighter than a silver spoon, Just as crazy as a loon. Softer than a lullaby, Deeper than the midnight sky, Soulful as a baby’s cry, My sweet potato pie. ("Sweet Potato Pie" – James Taylor)

They silently inhale the clover-scented gale, And the vapors that arise From the well-watered and smoking soil (“Rain in Summer,” H.W. Longfellow)