Echo (by Christina Rossetti, 1854)

Come to me in the silence of the night;
    Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
    As sunlight on a stream;
       Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.


O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
    Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimful of love abide and meet;
    Where thirsting longing eyes
       Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.


Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
    My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
    Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
       Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago!

I Am (by John Clare)

I am—yet what I am none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes—
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love's frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
Even the dearest that I loved the best
Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

A Shropshire Lad, XL (by Alfred Edward Housman)

Into my heart an air that kills

  From yon far country blows:

What are those blue remembered hills,

  What spires, what farms are those?


  
That is the land of lost content,

  I see it shining plain,

The happy highways where I went

  And cannot come again.

Remember (by Christina Rossetti)

Remember me when I am gone away,

         Gone far away into the silent land;

         When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

         You tell me of our future that you plann'd:

         Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

         And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

         For if the darkness and corruption leave

         A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

         Than that you should remember and be sad.

স্মৃতি (কবি: সুনীল গঙ্গোপাধ্যায়)

বাল্যকালে একটা ছিল বিষম সুখ

তখন কোনো বাল্যকালের স্মৃতি ছিল না

স্মৃতি আমায় কাঁটার মতন বেঁধে

আমায় নির্জনতায়

চক্ষু বেঁধে ঘোরায়

স্মৃতি আমায় শাসন করে

ঘুমের ঘোরে স্বপ্ন ভাঙায়

আমার কিছু ভালো লাগে না

জন্ম গেল আকণ্ঠ এক

তৃষ্ণা নিয়ে

জন্ম থেকেই কেউ এলো না

বাল্যকালে একটা ছিল বিষম সুখ

তখন কোনো বাল্যকালের স্মৃতি ছিল না

When I am Among the Trees (by Mary Oliver)

 When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It's simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine.”

Love's Philosophy (by Percy Bysshe Shelley)

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

If thou kiss not me?