Wishes, greetings, congratulations and flash ecards

bday – Wishing you happiness and a whole year

Wishing you happiness and a whole year
Filled with sunny days and moonlit nights
That are shared with close friends
Have a wonderful birthday
And may all your wishes come true!

(by elle)

Add commentFebruary 18th, 2006

On this your spesial Day – wedding

On this your spesial Day
Best wishes go to you
Thaт this wonderful Love you share
Lasts your lifetime through!

(by elle)

Add commentFebruary 18th, 2006

20 Sonnet of Shakespeare

A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling,
Much steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.

And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.

But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.

(by W. Shakespeare)

2 commentsFebruary 18th, 2006

William Shakespeare Sonnet 19

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger’s jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;

Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
And do whate’er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:

O, carve not with thy hours my love’s fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow
For beauty’s pattern to succeeding men.

Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.

(by W. Shakespeare)

2 commentsFebruary 18th, 2006

Sonnet of Shakespeare 18

Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill’d with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.

If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say “This poet lies:
Such heavenly touches ne’er touch’d earthly faces.”

So should my papers yellow’d with their age
Be scorn’d like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term’d a poet’s rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:

But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme.

(by W. Shakespeare)

2 commentsFebruary 18th, 2006