// Though I Am Young and Cannot Tell By Ben Jonson//

Though I am young, and can not tell

Either what Death or Love is well,

Yet I have heard they both bear darts,

And both do aim at hu man hearts.

And then a gain, I have been told Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold;

So that I fear they do but bring Extremes to touch, and mean one thing.

As in a ruin we it call One thing to be blown up, or fall;

Or to o ur end like way may have By a flash of lightning, or a wave;

So Love’s in flamèd shaft or brand May kill as soon as Death’s cold hand;

Except Love’s fires the virtue have

To fright the frost out of the grave.

You Are Tired (I Think)

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

e.e. cummings