Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain Clings cruelly to us. - John Keats

But what, without the social thought of thee,
Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart
Made purple riot.

You are always new. THe last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass'd my window home yesterday, I was fill'd with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time...Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you.