I couldn't tell fact from fiction

or if my dream was true.

The only sure prediction

in this whole world was you.

I'd touched your features inchly,

heard love and dared the cost

The scented spiel reeled me unreal

and found my senses lost.

By: Maya Angelou

If there were dreams to sell,

What would you buy?

Some cost a passing-bell;

Some a light sigh.

Thomas Lowell Beddoes (1803-1849)
English poet and physiologist
 

The Resolve

My wayward fate I needs must 'plain,

Though bootless be the theme;

I loved, and was beloved again,

Yet all was but a dream;

For, as her love was quickly got,

So it was quickly gone;

No more I'll bask in flame so hot,

But coldly dwell alone.

 

Not maid more bright than maid was e'er

My fancy shall beguile,

By flattering word, or feigned tear,

By gesture, look, or smile;

No more I'll call the shaft fair shot,

Till it has fairly flown,

Nor scorch me at a lame so hot;

I'll rather freeze alone.

 

Each ambush'd Cupid I'll defy,

In cheek, or chin, or brow,

And deem the glance of woman's eye

As weak as woman's vow;

I'll lightly hold the lady's heart,

That is but lightly won;

I'll steel my breast to beauty's art,

And learn to live alone.

 

The flaunting torch soon blazes out,

The diamond's ray abides;

The flame its glory hurls about,

The gem its lustre hides;

Such gem I fondly deem'd was mine,

And glow'd a diamond stone,

But, since each eye may see it shine,

I'll darkling dwell alone.

 

No waking dream shall tinge my thought

With dyes so bright and vain,

No silken net, so slightly wrought,

Shall tangle me again;

No more I'll pay so dear for wit,

I'll live upon my own,

Nor shall wild passion trouble it,

I'll rather dwell alone.

 

And thus I'll hush my heart to rest -

The loving labor's lost;

Thou shalt no more be wildly blest,

To be so strangely crost;

The widow's turtles mateless die,

The phoenix is but one;

They seek no loves, no more will I -

I'll rather dwell alone.

By: Sir Walter Scott

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