how
much someone can change the name of a rose it will always be a rose.
Someone can look into a women's soul, but can not gain her inter self.
Many are able to try to gain the heart of a female, but I have not found
one that has totally achieved this gift. A lady is a strong individual,
working mother, guardian, protector, and lover in one mixing bowl.
Guys, you can get upset all you would like, but in my personal opinion, I see that woman have the most important roles in life. I will explain my answer as brief as possible. A woman has been given the following task when put upon this earth we live on.... She is the watcher, protector, and holder of children. Most of the house work is done by herself, and the house
hold
items are gathered during her long day. Some even have a full or part time
job outside of the house hold chores to be done as well.
No matter how hard their life is, they must keep hope and spirit alive! I give my respect to all women around the world, for they have given us younger ladies high standards to live up to. But like them, we will add to the circle created before us. As life challenges our strengths we will grow stronger. Thank you to all the women. You are much loved by our world!
"Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, Alone and palely loitering; The sedge is wither'd from the lake, And no birds sing. Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel's granary is full, And the harvest's done. I see a
lilly on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek afading
rose Fast withereth too. I met a lady in the meads Full beautiful, a faery's
child; Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. I
set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long; For sideways
would she lean, and sing A faery's song. I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too,
and fragrant zone; She look'd at me as she did love, And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna dew; And
sure in language strange she said, I love thee true. She took me to her
elfin grot, And there she gaz'd and sighed deep, And there I shut her wild
sad eyes - So kiss'd to sleep. And there we slumber'd on the moss,
And there I dream'd, ah woe betide, The latest dream I ever dream'd On the cold hill side. I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; Who cry'd - 'La Belle Dame sans merci Hath thee in thrall!' I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke, and found me here On the cold hill side. And this is why I sojourn here Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake, And no birds sing."
Alford---"My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear; My ear is tired waiting for your call. I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer; Heart, soul and senses need you, one and all. I droop without your full, frank sympathy; We ought to be together - you and I; We want each other so, to comprehend The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or wrought. Companion, comforter and guide and friend, As much as love asks love, does thought ask thought. Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly, We ought to be together, you and I."
"Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicaean barks of yore, That gently
o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native
shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have bought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions whichAre Holy Land!"
"Her lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree, While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell Between its chords; and
as
the wild notes swell, The sea-bird for those branches leaves the sea. But
to what sound her listening ear stoops she? What netherworld gulf-whispers
doth she hear, In answering echoes from what planisphere, Along the wind,
along the estuary?
She sinks into her spell: and when full soon Her lips move and she soars into her song, What creatures of the midmost main shall throng In furrowed surf-clouds to the summoning rune: Till he, the fated mariner, hears her cry, And up her rock, bare-breasted, comes to die?"
O lovely hand, that thy sweet self dost lave In that thy pure and proper element,
Whence
erst the Lady of Love's high advent Was born, and endless fires sprang
from the wave:- Even as her Loves to her their offerings gave, For thee
the jewelled gifts they bear; while each Looks to those lips, of music-measured
speech The fount, and of more bliss than man may crave.
In royal wise ring-girt and bracelet-spann'd, A flower of Venus' own virginity, Go shine among thy sisterly sweet band; In maiden-minded converse delicately Evermore white and soft; until thou be, O hand! heart-handsel'd in a lover's hand."
