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I don't love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
Pablo Neruda, One Hundred Love Sonnets

Come slowly‐Eden
Lips unused to Thee‐
Bashful‐sip thy Jessamines
As the fainting Bee‐
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums‐
Counts his nectars‐
Enters‐and is lost in Balms.
Emily Dickinson, Come Slowly‐ Eden

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never‐ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
William Wordsworth, I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

You Are The Best Of Me, John Lunn, The Chamber Orchestra Of London

Love Story, LoLa &HAUSER