I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea, Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes. - Sara Teasdale

It will not hurt me when I am old,
A running tide where moonlight burned
Will not sting me like silver snakes;
The years will make me sad and cold,
It is the happy heart the breaks.

The hearts asks more than life can give,
When that is learned, then all is learned;
The waves break fold on jewelled fold,
But beauty itself is fugitive,
It will not hurt me when I am old.

Less than the cloud to the wind,
Less than the foam to the sea,
Less than the rose to the storm
Am I to thee.

More than the star to the night,
More than the rain to the tree,
More than heaven to earth
Art thou to me.

V. Night Song At Amafi

I asked the heaven of stars
What I should give my love–
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
Down where the fishers go–
It answered me with silence,
Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
Or I could give him song–
But how can I give silence
My whole life long?