Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee! —Emily Dickinson For more love poems, see The . . .
To His Coy Mistress
Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, Lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way To walk and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood, And you . . .
Good Neighbors
He wondered how she knew about the Cheetos; he thought he'd washed the orange dust off clean. Did she note down each case of beef burritos the dry-ice truck delivered, sight unseen? And what about the Snickers bags? Did she use high-powered binoculars to scan? Did she note down each luscious . . .