How many times do I love thee, dear? Tell me how many thoughts there be In the atmosphere Of a new-fall’n year, Whose white and sable hours appear Th… - Thomas Lovell Beddoes

By female voicesWe have bathed, where none have seen us, In the lake and in the fountain, Underneath the charmèd statue
Of the timid, bending Venus, When the water-nymphs were counting
In the waves the stars of night, And those maidens started at you,
Your limbs shone through so soft and bright. But no secrets dare we tell, For thy slaves unlace thee, And he, who shall embrace thee, Waits to try thy beauty’s spell.By male voicesWe have crowned thee queen of women, Since love’s love, the rose, hath kept her Court within thy lips and blushes,
And thine eye, in beauty swimming, Kissing, we rendered up the sceptre,
At whose touch the startled soul Like an ocean bounds and gushes,
And spirits bend at thy controul. But no secrets dare we tell, For thy slaves unlace thee, And he, who shall embrace thee, Is at hand, and so farewell.

A ghost, that loved a lady fair,
Ever in the starry air
Of midnight at her pillow stood;
And, with a sweetness skies above
The luring words of human love,
Her soul the phantom wooed.
Sweet and sweet is their poisoned note,
The little snakes of silver throat,
In mossy skulls that nest and lie,
Ever singing, “Die, oh! die.”Young soul put off your flesh, and come
With me into the quiet tomb,
Our bed is lovely, dark and sweet;
The earth will swing us, as she goes,
Beneath our coverlid of snows,
And the warm leaden sheet.
Dear and dear is their poisoned note,
The little snakes of silver throat,
In mossy skulls that nest and lie,
Ever singing, “Die, oh! die.”

If there were dreams to sell, What would you buy?
Some cost a passing bell; Some a light sigh,
That shakes from Life’s fresh crown
Only a rose-leaf down.
If there were dreams to sell,
Merry and sad to tell,
And the crier rang the bell, What would you buy?A cottage lone and still, With bowers nigh,
Shadowy, my woes to still, Until I die.
Such pearl from Life’s fresh crown
Fain would I shake me down.
Were dreams to have at will,
This would best heal my ill, This would I buy.