"Heaven" has different Signsto me

575 "Heaven" has different Signsto me Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the World And settles in the Hills An Awe if it should be like that Upon the Ignorance steals The Orchard, when the Sun is on The Triumph of the Birds When they together Victory make Some Carnivals of Clouds The Rapture of a finished Day Returning to the West All theseremind us of the place That Men call "paradise" Itself be fairerwe suppose But how Ourself, shall be Adorned, for a Superior Grace Not yet, our eyes can see

Emily Dickinson

To His Fairest Valentine Mrs. A. L.

"Come, pretty birds, present your lays, And learn to chaunt a goddess praise; Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be Employ'd to serve her deity: And warble forth, ye virgins nine, Some music to my Valentine. "Her bosom is love's paradise, There is no heav'n but in her eyes; She's chaster than the turtle-dove, And fairer than the queen of love: Yet all perfections do combine To beautifie my Valentine. "She's Nature's choicest cabinet, Where honour, beauty, worth and wit

Are all united in her breast. The graces claim an interest: All virtues that are most divine Shine clearest in my Valentine." And learn to chaunt a goddess praise; Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be Employ'd to serve her deity: And warble forth, ye virgins nine, Some music to my Valentine. "Her bosom is love's paradise, There is no heav'n but in her eyes; She's chaster than the turtle-dove, And fairer than the queen of love: Yet all perfections do combine To beautifie my Valentine. "She's Nature's choicest cabinet, Where honour, beauty, worth and wit Are all united in her breast. The graces claim an interest: All virtues that are most divine Shine clearest in my Valentine."

Richard Lovelace

"Ave Ceasar"
Long ago the Gladiators, When the call to combat came, Marching past the massed spectators, Hailed the Emp'ror with acclaim! Voices ringing with the fury Of the strife so soon to be, Cried, "O Caesar, morituri salutamus te!" Nowadays the massed spectators See the unaccustomed sight -Legislative gladiators Marching to their last great fight; Young and old, obscure and famous, Hand to hand and knee to knee -Hear the war-cry, "Salutamus morituri te!" Fight! Nor be the fight suspended Till the corpses strew the plain. Ere the grisly strife be ended Five and thirty must be slain. Slay and spare not, lest another Haply may discomfit thee: Brother now must war with brother -"Salutamus te!"

War-torn vet'ran, skilled debater, Trickster famed of bridge and road, Now for each grim gladiator Gapes Oblivion's drear abode. Should the last great final jury Turn their thumbs down -- it must be! "Ave, Caesar, morituri salutamus te!"

Andrew Barton Paterson