JULIET
'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.
ROMEO
I would I were thy bird.
JULIET
Sweet, so would I:
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting is such
sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
FULL TEXT
2 comments:
Hold on to this very part of you . . . the poet . . . we are all born poets . . . but is often a struggle to hold-on to that . . . Hold on :)
Peace
Scott
I try to hold on to as much of the beautiful things as possible :)
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