Faults They came to tell your faults to me, They named them over one by one; I laughed aloud when they were done, I knew them all so well before, — … - Sara Teasdale

She must be rich who can forego
An hour so jewelled with delight,
She must have teasuries of joy
That she can draw on day and night,
She must be very sure of heaven–
Or is it only that she feels
How much more safe it is to lack
A thing that time so often steals.

As dew leaves the cobweb lightly
Threaded with stars,
Scattering jewels on the fence
And the pasture bars;
As dawn leaves the dry grass bright
And the tangled weeds
Bearing a rainbow gem
On each of their seeds;
So has your love, my lover,
Fresh as the dawn,
Made me a shining road
To travel on,
Set every common sight
Of tree or stone
Delicately alight
For me alone.

I am strong, I will break your heart
Unless you set me free.