‘Love’s Philosophy’ by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of Heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine? -

See the mountains kiss high Heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

If thou kiss not me?

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This ‘What Is Love?’ typographic print is on 100% recycled, off-white, uncoated, heavyweight paper.

And as the paper is 100% recycled it’s slightly textured, with flecks of recycled material. Which we like very much.

Available professionally framed (see the bottom photograph) or unframed if you’d prefer to find your own. The print is a standard size (50cm x 50cm) so will fit many off-the-shelf frames like the simple Nyttja from Ikea.

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‘Aubade’ (16th century — Anon)

Stay, O sweet, and do not rise,

The light that shines comes from thine eyes;

The day breaks not, it is my heart,

Because that you and I must part.

Stay, or else my joys will die,

And perish in their infancy.

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‘Alicante’ by Jacques Prévert

An orange on the table

Your dress on the rug

And you in my bed

Sweet present of the present

Cool of night

Warmth of my life.

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‘Winter Love’ by Elizabeth Jennings

Let us have winter loving that the heart

May be in peace and ready to partake

Of the slow pleasure spring would wish to hurry

Or that in summer harshly would awake,

And let us fall apart, O gladly weary,

The white skin shaken like a white snowflake.

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‘New Year’s Eve’ by D.H. Lawrence

There are only two things now,

The great black night scooped out

And this fireglow.

This fireglow, the core,

And we the two ripe pips

That are held in store.

Listen, the darkness rings

As it circulates round our fire.

Take off your things.

Your shoulders, your bruised throat!

Your breasts, your nakedness!

This fiery coat!

As the darkness flickers and dips,

As the firelight falls and leaps

From your feet to your lips!

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‘Meeting At Night’ by Robert Browning

The grey sea and the long black land;

And the yellow half-moon large and low;

And the startled little waves that leap

In fiery ringlets from their sleep,

As I gain the cove with pushing prow,

And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;

Three fields to cross till a farm appears;

A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch

And blue spurt of a lighted match,

And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,

Than the two hearts beating each to each!

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‘A Dedication To My Wife’ by T.S. Eliot

To whom I owe the leaping delight

That quickens my senses in our wakingtime

And the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime,

The breathing in unison

Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other

Who think the same thoughts without need of speech

And babble the same speech without need of meaning.

No peevish winter wind shall chill

No sullen tropic sun shall wither

The roses in the rose-garden which is ours and ours only

But this dedication is for others to read:

These are private words addressed to you in public.

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Coulson Macleod has teamed up with Rock My Wedding — the UK’s most popular wedding blog — and we’re giving away not one, but two, bespoke prints.

The first to choose from is our bespoke ‘What’ print on solid limestone with a handmade reclaimed timber frame (worth £169).

The second choice is our bespoke handmade ‘What’ print with a solid oak frame (worth 239).

Both prints can be personalised by adding your own names and a date at the bottom. Unless of course you happen to be called Mark & Hannah and you’re getting married on June 15th 2012. You can also change the colour of the text if you so wish.

The words were written by Coulson for Macleod (yes, that’s us) when we met & fell in love.

And, as Coulson & Macleod are getting married this year, we thought we’d share the love.

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‘She Walks In Beauty’ by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameles grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

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‘A Drinking Song’ by W.B. Yeats

Wine comes in at the mouth

And love comes in at the eye;

That’s all we know for truth

Before we grow old and die.

I lift the glass to my mouth

I look at you, and I sigh.

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‘First Love’ by John Clare

I ne’er was struck before that hour,

With love so sudden and so sweet,

Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower

And stole my heart away complete.

My face turned pale as deadly pale,

My legs refused to walk away,

And when she looked, what could I ail?

My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face

And took my eyesight quite away,

The trees and bushes round the place

Seemed midnight at noonday.

I could not see a single thing,

Words from my eyes did start -

They spoke as chords do from the string,

And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter’s choice?

Is love’s bed always snow?

She seemed to hear my silent voice,

Not love’s appeals to know.

I never saw so sweet a face

As that I stood before.

My heart has left its dwelling-place

And can return no more.

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‘Did Not’ by Thomas Moore

‘Twas a new feeling — something more

Than we had dared to own before,

Which then we hid not;

We saw it in each other’s eye,

And wished, in very half-breathed sigh,

To speak, but did not.

She felt my lips’ impassioned touch -

‘Twas the first time I dared so much,

And yet she chid not;

But whispered o’er my burning brow,

‘Oh, do you doubt I love you now?’

Sweet soul! I did not.

Warmly I felt her bosom thrill,

I pressed it closer, closer still,

Though gently bid not;

Till — oh! the world hath seldom heard

Of lovers, who so nearly erred,

And yet, who did not.

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‘First Day’ by Christina Rossetti

I wish I could remember the first day,

First hour, first moment of your meeting me;

If bright or dim the season, it might be

Summer or winter for aught I can say.

So unrecorded did it slip away,

So blind was I to see and to foresee,

So dull to mark the budding of my tree

That would not blossom yet for many a May.

If only I could recollect it! Such

A day of days! I let it come and go

As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.

It seemed to mean so little, meant so much!

If only now I could recall that touch,

First touch of hand in hand! — Did one but know!

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‘A Statue Of Eros’ by Zenodotos (325 BC).

Who carved Love

and placed him by

this fountain,

thinking

he could control

such fire

with water?

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