These pictures are from Princess Park Preserve. I like to express the beauty of my photos with poems and literary work. "Give All to Love" is a poem written by Ralph Waldo Emerson about giving everything to love. It is also about the death of his wife and he still loved her with all his heart and he shows his love every day.
"Give All to Love" is a poem written by Ralph Waldo Emerson. This poem is about giving everything to love. However, it's also about the death of his wife. He speaks of this with the lines "As a self of purer clay, / Tho' her parting dims the day, / Stealing grace from all alive,". However, he still loves her with all his heart. He shows his love every day and obeys his hearts true love for everything around him.
Give All to Love" is a poem written by Ralph Waldo Emerson. This poem is about giving everything to love. However, it's also about the death of his wife. He speaks of this with the lines "As a self of purer clay, / Tho' her parting dims the day, / Stealing grace from all alive,". However, he still loves her with all his heart. He shows his love every day and obeys his hearts true love for everything around him
Give All to Love
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good-fame,
Plans, credit and the Muse,—
Nothing refuse.
’T is a brave master;
Let it have scope:
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope:
High and more high
It dives into noon,
With wing unspent,
Untold intent:
But it is a god,
Knows its own path
And the outlets of the sky.
It was never for the mean;
It requireth courage stout.
Souls above doubt,
Valor unbending,
It will reward,—
They shall return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.
Leave all for love;
Yet, hear me, yet,
One word more thy heart behoved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor,—
Keep thee to-day,
To-morrow, forever,
Free as an Arab
Of thy beloved.
Cling with life to the maid;
But when the surprise,
First vague shadow of surmise
Flits across her bosom young,
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free;
Nor thou detain her vesture’s hem,
Nor the palest rose she flung
From her summer diadem.
Though thou loved her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay,
Though her parting dims the day,
Stealing grace from all alive;
Heartily know,
When half-gods go,
The gods arrive.
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