To the Willow-tree - by Robert Herrick

Thou art to all lost love the best,

The only true plant found,

Wherewith young men and maids distrest,  

And left of love, are crown'd.  

To the Western Wind - by Robert Herrick

Sweet western wind, whose luck it is,

Made rival with the air,

To give Perenna's lip a kiss,

And fan her wanton hair:

To Electra - by Robert Herrick

I dare not ask a kiss, 

I dare not beg a smile, 

Lest having that, or this, 

I might grow proud the while.

The Prophet on Marriage - by Khalil Gibran

Then Almitra spoke again and said...

"And what of Marriage, master?"

And he answered saying:

You were born together,

Bridal Song - by William Shakespeare

Roses, their sharp spines being gone,

Not royal in their smells alone,

But in their hue;

Maiden pinks, of odour faint,

To The Virgins, To Make Much of Time - by Robert Herrick

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.

To Silvia, To Wed

Let us, though late, at last, my Silvia, wed;

And loving lie in one devoted bed.

Thy watch may stand, my minutes fly post haste;

No sound calls back the year that once is past.

Delight in Disorder - by Robert Herrick

A sweet disorder in the dress 

Kindles in clothes a wantonness:

A lawn about the shoulders thrown 

Into a fine distraction: