“I sworn thee fair, and thought thee brightWho art cold as Hel, as dark as night”

“For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.”

“My love is as a fever, longing stillFor that which longer nurseth the disease;Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,The uncertain sickly appetite to please.My reason, the physician to my love,Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,Desire his death, which physic did except.Past cure I am, now reason is past care,And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,At random from the truth vainly express'd;For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.”

“Lo, thou, my Love, art fair;Myself have made thee so;Yea, thou art fair indeed,Wherefore thou shalt not needIn beauty to despair;For I accept thee so,For fair.[excerpt from "Christ to His Spouse"]”

“I think of thee!-my thoughts do twine and budAbout thee, as wild vines, about a tree...Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understoodI will not have my thoughts instead of theeWho art dearer, better!”

“I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old”