“I before Thy greatness
Stand, and am afraid
All my secret thoughts Thine eye beholdeth
Deep within my bosom laid.”

Morning song, trans. Nina Davis http://medievalhebrewpoetry.org/ibngabirolselection1.html.

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Solomon ibn Gabirol2

Avicebron 1021–1058

Edward Taylor (1642–1729) American poet

from "Meditation VI (Canticles II:1)"

“Thy spirit, Independence, let me share,
Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye.
Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,
Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.”

Tobias Smollett (1721–1771) 18th-century poet and author from Scotland

Ode to Independence, strophe 1.

“I understand so very little. But I am not afraid to look: I am a good observer at last. My eyes are open, and I am not afraid.”

Robert Charles Wilson (1953) author

The Observer (p. 113)
The Perseids and Other Stories (2000)

“Trembling I sit day and night, my friends are astonish’d at me.
Yet they forgive my wanderings, I rest not from my great task!
To open the Eternal Worlds, to open the immortal Eyes
Of Man inwards into the Worlds of Thought: into Eternity
Ever expanding in the Bosom of God. the Human Imagination”

William Blake (1757–1827) English Romantic poet and artist

Source: 1800s, Jerusalem The Emanation of The Giant Albion (c. 1803–1820), Ch. 1, plate 5, lines 16-20 The Words of Blake

“Stella, think not that I by verse seek fame,
Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee;
Thine eyes my pride, thy lips mine history:
If thou praise not, all other praise is shame.”

Philip Sidney book Astrophel and Stella

Sonnet 90.
Astrophel and Stella (1591)

“My troubles are all over, and I am at home; and often before I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick, standing with my friends under the apple trees.”

Anna Sewell book Black Beauty

Source: Black Beauty

“And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.”

John Milton (1608–1674) English epic poet

Source: Il Penseroso (1631), Line 39

“My torments easy, full of sweet delight,
If this I could obtain,—that breast to breast
Thy bosom might receive my yielded sprite.”

Torquato Tasso (1544–1595) Italian poet

O fortunati miei dolci martiri!
S'impetrerò che giunto seno a seno,
L'anima mia nella tua bocca io spiri.
Canto II, stanza 35 (tr. Fairfax)
Gerusalemme Liberata (1581)