✉ TEXT MESSAGE
[ooc; All types of contact encouraged & welcomed, just lemme know what's up in the subject line ♥ For reference, previous post is archived here.]
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|IF WE SHADOWS have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
|And, as I am an honest Puck,|
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.
By the timeI know you must be angry, and I don't blame you for that. I am sorry. I'm writing to tell you that I wish things could have been differentsay thank you, for everything you've done for me. I know it must seem like I'm notI don't appreciate it; but I do know how much you've given, what you've sacrificed for me.
I'm sorry it has to be this way. I hope someday you'll forgive me, and we can see each other again.
Please don't look for
usme. Love Since--[fades into illegibility]
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
I scarce believe my love to be so pure
As I had thought it was,
Because it doth endure
Vicissitude, and season, as the grass;
Methinks I lied all winter, when I swore
My love was infinite, if spring make'it more.
But if this medicine, love, which cures all sorrow
With more, not only be no quintessence,
But mixed of all stuffs paining soul or sense,
And of the sun his active vigour borrow,
Love’s not so pure, and abstract as they use
To say, which have no mistress but their Muse ;
But as all else, being elemented too,
Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do.
And yet no greater, but more eminent,
Love by the spring is grown ;
As in the firmament
Stars by the sun are not enlarged, but shown,
Gentle love deeds, as blossoms on a bough,
From love's awakened root do bud out now.
If, as in water stirr'd more circles be
Produced by one, love such additions take,
Those like so many spheres but one heaven make,
For they are all concentric unto thee ;
And though each spring do add to love new heat,
As princes do in times of action get
New taxes, and remit them not in peace,
No winter shall abate this spring’s increase.
I dreamt when I was young, of course, of love,
But found mere echoes of brave lovers' words
Had not a raven to trade for a dove,
No lady's honor tried on rivals' swords.
And yet the words did work their cryptic art,
And for true love I could not help but yearn,
Longed for a worthy guardian for my heart,
For someone who would cause my blood to burn.
I wondered what fair shape my love would wear,
Weighed in my heart what beauty I loved best,
And yet, my years of dreams could not compare
To one with whom my love today does rest.
For all those books of lovers, fair and true,
I wouldn't lose a moment spent with you.