Monna Innominata [I dream of you, to wake]  by Christina Rossetti 
I dream of you, to wake: would that I might 
Dream of you and not wake but slumber on; 
Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone, 
As, Summer ended, Summer birds take flight. 
In happy dreams I hold you full in night. 
I blush again who waking look so wan; 
Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone, 
In happy dreams your smile makes day of night. 
Thus only in a dream we are at one, 
Thus only in a dream we give and take 
The faith that maketh rich who take or give; 
If thus to sleep is sweeter than to wake, 
To die were surely sweeter than to live, 
Though there be nothing new beneath the sun.


If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spum,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

~Emily Dickinson

i am feeling a little victorian poet-y today.

this is what makes me smile:
building stuff.