When green buds hang in the elm like dust
And sprinkle the lime like rain,Â
Forth I wander, forth IÂ must,Â
And drink of life again.Â
— A.E. Housman
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When green buds hang in the elm like dust
And sprinkle the lime like rain,Â
Forth I wander, forth IÂ must,Â
And drink of life again.Â
— A.E. Housman

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A sudden gust of wind.
Branches brushing against each other—pine, beech.
A fiberglass hull tapping against the dock.
A sudden chill.
The smell of smoke, woodstove fires.
A light going out.
— Lloyd Schwartz
And we will sit upon the Rocks,Â
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,Â
By shallow Rivers to whose fallsÂ
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
— Christopher Marlowe
carefully folded, swooned, postpartum
posthaste—
my letter to you, I gave—
curious, you said uncanny you
said the color of my eyes in this light
is a different shade of green said
— Valerie Wetlaufer
I loved a girl
when I was a girl,
before I knew desire
could be used against me.
— Valerie Wetlaufer

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I know
Not these my hands
And yet I think there was
A woman like me once had hands
Like these.
— Adelaide Crapsey
Water, is taught by thirst.
Land - by the Oceans passed.
Transport - by throe -
Peace - by its battles told-
— Emily Dickinson
Had I not seen the Sun
I could have borne the shade
But Light a newer Wilderness
My Wilderness has made-
— Emily Dickinson
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.Â
   Men were deceivers ever,Â
One foot in sea, and one on shore,Â
   To one thing constant never.
— William Shakespeare
The Grass so little has to do-
A Sphere of simple Green -
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain-
— Emily Dickinson

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spilling water from my back,
you call and i come.
that exhausted walk to reach you
breathless and no i didn’t run
— Michelle Tea
For I am bound with fleshly bands,
Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope;
I strain my heart, I stretch my hands,
And catch at hope.
— Christina Rossetti
So bashful when I spied her!
So pretty - so ashamed!
So hidden in her leaflets
Lest anybody find -
— Emily Dickinson
A little Road - not made of Man-
Enabled of the Eye-
Accessible to Thill of Bee-
Or Cart of Butterfly-
— Emily Dickinson
Garlands for Queens, may be -
Laurels - for rare degree
Of soul or sword.
Ah - but rememberIng me -
Ah - but remembering thee -
— Emily Dickinson

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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"Love seeketh not itself to please,Â
Nor for itself hath any care,Â
But for another gives its ease,Â
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."Â
—William Blake
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
— T.S. Eliot