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He turns the clay within his fingers thoughtfully, deliberately,. Until our eyes notice others. Until the heart can measure choice in the scale of the mind. Amy L. Someone wrote them for me. But they are my letters. If not hand-writ by me— written by another through me. To the praise of the glory of his grace. A letter to believers— that they would succumb to the grace I tell them of— that they might know the habitation of God— its breadth, length, depth, height.

Christ descending and ascending— ——————————— Eph. A pleading is there— Awake— —————————————— Eph. Pray the utterance might be given— that I may open my mouth boldly to make known the mystery of the gospel— ——————————————— Eph. Diane Glancy has written extensively as a poet, novelist, playwright, and nonfiction writer. As a poet she has published twenty titles — including both chapbooks and full-length collections. One boy my age dared look me in the eye. But I only scowled and spit. He scuffed dung-flecked dust in our general direction with the toe of his sandal. But at thirty, at night on my bed, I knew.

Not all the blood of bulls and turtledoves tithes recited psalms or prayers would erase that writ. That all seems like another, long-ago life. We worship now in a Temple not made by hands —One without a wall. Gaius and I are forty. In pale dawn on the Day of Remembering the Rising, we sit down side by side, sip wine, hand round hunks of holy bread and sing.

She and her husband live in Georgetown, Ontario; they have three adult sons. So many confront us on the way. Knock on doors until someone lets you in. What would you give up? Shed anger like a snake sheds its skin. Whatever remains will be a new song. How far would you travel? No one will toss palm leaves where you walk to cushion your feet. DiBiase Poetry Prize, He is a poetry editor for Comstock Review. He wanders through mosaic parables like something risen out of time, wearing fashion all wrong for Byzantium—.

You presume at first this must have been a gold-leaf sermon contra. His sumptuous blue. So poke at any early Christian tomb and there they preen, depictions of life that does not die, the. Did Paul become despondent ———- Or did he make a fuss? He just sat and wrote the epistle ———- To the saints in Ephesus. David C. Brown was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, and has lived there or in its neighbourhood most of his life. He has published privately through www. He has been writing verse in varying styles for about fifty years now, while working as a minor civil servant, trusting it is to the glory of God.

He is fond of stravaiging in the Scottish hills. Yet such are thy laws, that men argue yet Whether a man those statutes can fulfill; None doth, but thy all-healing grace and Spirit Revive again what law and letter kill. John Donne — is perhaps the most influential Christian poets of the 17 century. He was dean of St. This poem — one of his Holy Sonnets — rejoices in the central Biblical truth, that God gives us all things; every spiritual blessing in Christ Romans ; Ephesians He came into my home Not as a storm Beating open doors and shutters But as gentle light Filtering around door frames ———- Piercing cracks ———- Lighting thinning curtains Illuminating my deep darkness Somber shadows stabbed With gentle light.

Where light touched ———- Boards became boughs ———- Lintels leaves ———- Cellar posts rooted the earth New limbs reached for the sun ———- Upward, upward, upward. Peter Kazmaier of Mississauga, Ontario is primarily known as a novelist of Speculative Fiction — particularly as the author of The Halcyon Dislocation and its sequels. The third instalment in the cycle, Descent into Abaddon , is soon to appear in The tongue is mine, though.

I lay the host atop it. But it was. It is. I thank you, God. When I watch it shot through with sunlight I can see the auburn glow. As she sleeps I touch her beautiful, broad nose. I lay the thoughts in my mind on the bed beside us. They sing softly for the breaking of the day. Zach Czaia is a poet, editor, and playwright living and working in Chicago.

His poems have appeared in such places as The Other Journal and Sojourners. This poem is drawn from reflections upon Ephesians I am sending him. Jean Schreur of Hudsonville, Michigan, enjoys writing about Biblical characters and places. She is a retired nurse and lives with her husband on the family celery farm. In the knee and bled a little. As a college student did you forget that there are people who.

Bugg Davis is originally from Mississippi where she completed a degree in English with a concentration in Philosophy. She has been published in a number of literary journals in the Southern United States. Recently, she moved to Hamilton, Ontario, to pursue a degree in Business and Marketing and is working as a Barista. And art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove, ————— When I am sour, ————— And cross thy love?

Grieved for me? Then weep mine eyes, the God of love doth grieve: ————— Weep foolish heart, ————— And weeping live: For death is dry as dust. Yet if ye part, ————— End as the night, whose sable hue ————— Your sins express; melt into dew. When saucy mirth shall knock or call at door, ————— Cry out, Get hence, ————— Or cry no more. O take thy lute, and tune it to a strain, ————— Which may with thee ————— All day complain. There can no discord but in ceasing be. If a clear spring for me no time forbears, ————— But runs, although I be not dry; ————— I am no Crystal, what shall I?

Yet if I wail not still, since still to wail ————— Nature denies; ————— And flesh would fail, If my deserts were masters of mine eyes: ————— Lord, pardon, for thy son makes good ————— My want of tears with store of blood. George Herbert — is famous for his devotional poetry which was posthumously published in his book The Temple. In he also wrote A Priest to the Temple , which expresses his ideals of what a pastor should be. Mercy, please note — every ragged corona —— our prayers generate: the lone — blue eye of a pilot light, the bonfire crowning a hill. Help us welcome the kindly — eclipse and crumble of ego, —— knowing the planet of self — winks out, only to rally.

On again. Amid the long seam of night — our desires are rogue stars, —— riddled with black holes, — laden with dark matter, still unexplained. O Mercy with colored dust, — re-belt us, all our hopes —— fixed anew, within your realm — where nothing is lost, but all is covered. David J. Busuttil lives with his loving wife Katie in Hornby, Ontario.

His poetry regularly appears in the magazines Love Is Moving and Ekstasis. David is active in poetry performances in the Greater Toronto Area. Isaak, latecomer to the way, sometime schmoozer among the diverse and sundry heretics, and admittedly a little judge-y, a little cranky concerning the ubiquitous, blithe, and widespread ignorance unduly tolerated among slacker Xians whose glib disinterest in the actual fullness of their own inheritance leaves me blinking, open mouthed—and increasingly cranky—as each week seems to bring yet another earnest attempt to reinvent the wheel.

That we are all of us adopted and appallingly co-opted into the holiness of Jesus is a simple given, and a certainty. So relax. His good pleasure will surely accommodate at some future end of time our patent sloth and habitual dim wittedness. Meantime, have a stretch. The faith you hold is not so much a grip of propositions—nor even, nor especially that queer array of anxious propositions you have preferred to what the fathers taught; such a paring keeps the body blind, and deaf, more than a little dumb.

A far more efficacious grip would be the one that gathers at the supper of the Body and the Blood. The cup is not so much a good idea, but is your living portion poured into your hungry gut, the animating spirit joined unto an elemental, and a bright reconstitution, joining your sad persons to the joy investing all and everything with theanthropic agency. Remember to love one another, and please forgive your cranky Isaak, whose love for you may yet prove—please God—incorruptible.

She and her husband live in New Jersey. This poem is drawn from several passages, including Ephesians Theologically and philosophically I rejoice in my salvation. Bonnie Beldan-Thomson of Pickering, Ontario, wrote this poem in response to the opening verses of Ephesians. She received the E. Pratt Medal in Poetry from the University of Toronto. I was an orphan at the gate, waiting, wondering until he came and chose this unlikely child gave me a new name, gave me gifts in profusion: hope to hold, peace to pass on, grace to grow See this signature?

Yet, l do confess, love like this frightens me. How difficult to fathom its dimensions: the length, the breath, the depth, the height, it takes a lifetime to fill a fatherless heart full, to displace doubts, to replace the broken seal. How fortunate that we have forever…. She lives with her family in Pickering, Ontario. In pre-marriage counseling they told us to never let the sun go down on our anger. Whimsy notwithstanding,. But in the wake of our disagreement, with the sky so overcast I circled the same point;.

I hardly recall now the place, the view: stars burning light years off like tongues of fire snapping softly in a vacant house, winter branches with their hieroglyphs, birds clenched on twigs like frozen buds— all that language of the dispossessed. And long before of course I hunted out the spring, stored earliest recorded light, his words, which I drew on interceding for family or friends, but not too often, pulling back from draining the source with appeals for anything specific or routine.

Extravagantly upsized, straining our reasonable dimensions of space and time? Not according to the blueprint of the mystery. Translated by the working hand, it clearly says our house is, its foundation laid, saving us from lostness. Windows, though yet to be set, are framed and open for intimate speech, silent music between ear and Ear.

Mary Willis lives in London, Ontario. Her poems have appeared in Canadian Literature and other journals and anthologies. I do not cease to give thanks , especially in November even as we lose an hour of light, drawing the curtains at to keep out the cold. To remember you are dust seems appropriate now. Crows are cawing. Who said no man is an island? Maybe we speak in hieroglyphs, unclear, always missing the mark? So let me be plain.

Barbara Crooker is the author of seven poetry collections. She and her husband live in Fogelsville, Pennsylvania. The truth is, neighbor, your lawn is looking rather shabby. I tell you this in a spirit of Christian kindness. So, let us shun falsehood and speak the truth: I see your sins and…Joshua judges Ruth. I stand firm in faith and shall not be budged. And if you judge me…ye shall be judged. Now as then we are dismayed when business falters, baffled when rains fail, alarmed when another riot erupts in our city.

Now as then we have among us the hungry. Also the scrupulous. We know a house must have a sure foundation, a solid cornerstone. We know, though we keep building them, dividing walls must fall. How else. We do not know why the lovely bird of peace nests over there while here at home the vultures flap their hostile wings.

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Now as then noise streams from the market place, applause from the crowded theatre. The hungry lions roar. On quiet evenings. Her eighth and most-recent collection is Monstrance , Turnstone Press. The road to Ephesus was flat and open-aired, a lined mixture of blue and earth, mounded cairns rising from the open fields, like bee-hives a man.

And why travel there but for a heritage of history? Native people still tilling the biblical earth, airing their laundry on lines,. Land by itself always appears primitive until we encounter on the threaded paths there. We pilgrimage to Ephesus to witness the past and measure the present. For a place to sense the saints of perseverance, we leave our too-civilised countries to experience a land, a field, a time in its journey. We leave our lives. The dusty road to Ephesus was a boat, a bus,. In the ancient shell of Ephesus, beyond the resting amphitheater, the cell of Saint Paul, the best building standing remains the whitened library.

He lives with his family in West Nyack, New York. He tastes pearwood dust, cuts a body, blood trickled out and stilled on Skull Hill, a living man whose standard rides the blaze from demon horns. We shuffle past the woodcut, hear a flapping overhead and smell smoke but miss the gates wide open the throng rushing out. Laurel Eshelman of Elizabeth, Illinois population works a few blocks from home with her husband at Eshelman Pottery. She was one of the participants in D. He has self-published two books of verse. But the sounds of Trappist silence contained too many echoes for him.

He longed for the life away anchored in the most quiet dwelling—himself— moment by moment seeking eternity; he lived alone with the Alone. Philip C. Clear and bright as cups of Easter dye, they sputter and hiss to remind us that we stand atop a caldera heaving molten rock. Each path begins with the illustrated warning: a boy in a baseball cap breaks through the surface, parboiling his feet. I hear the story about the 9-year-old who lost himself in the steam and plunged into Crested Pool. They recovered just eight pounds of his body.

Or the man who swan-dived into Celestine Pool after a yelping dog, emerging with blanched irises. That was dumb , he mumbled for his last words, skin peeling in sheets. Thousands of years ago the first hunter to wander into this basin. He laughed, bent his face over the rising steam, and thought nothing of reaching in. This poem by Tania Runyan is from her poetry collection Second Sky , Poiema Poetry Series , which is a book of poems inspired by the life and writings of the apostle Paul. If you like what you see, and would like to submit a poem of your own to Poems for Ephesians , please contact D.

Watch for new posts every week! I clamber up a few rocks, walk a hundred yards through pink sand, then feel the canyon walls converge on my shoulders. Just skin, hawk song, my blood pounding against fossils in the dark, my only movements my hands channeling the marrow of sandstone. I can look nowhere but up the sheer red walls pocked and hallowed by chronicles of rain, forever closing but never touching, in the gap the whole sky caught. Posted: 25 September From The Faerie Queene — Book I, Canto I i A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine, Y cladd in mightie armes and silver shielde, Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine, The cruell markes of many a bloudy fielde; Yet armes till that time did he never wield: His angry steede did chide his foming bitt, As much disdayning to the curbe to yield: Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt, As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.

Posted: 18 September Toes wiggle around to see what room is available and then a quick securing of knots— twins yawn in their blankets, ancestral phrases whispered in morning light, shades of quiet anticipate breeze or storm. Just a moment of balance, then ballast settles in against the barbs that may or may not come to knock you sidelong or push you off such a narrow, level path, even when you speak armistice, goodwill, peace, the kind that offers a coat to the soldier accusing you of heresy, the kind that bids serene elation—silent and jubilant— causing you to rise amid threats wheeling about your helmet, breastplate, and shield.

Posted: 10 September Conductor When it comes down, it comes down Out of the dark heart of the nimbus I can never see it coming, Until I can see nothing else. I should be obliterated Made so mortal a conductor Of so furious a light But he grounded me before he struck And being struck, I glow. Posted: 04 September At Table Infinitesimal and of no consequence but for the daft valuation of divine love — by whom a body is made no larger, no more visible from the ridge opposite, yet through whom a body is seated in the heavenlies, where — this, a mystery — it offers no service at that high table.

And so a body is free of need to set for itself a place at any earthly table, free indeed to stand aside and, in the grace of such a love, wait on all reclined around it. Which is, of course, absurd — the very idea of transcending value — even desperate. To the praise of God: a body, nonsensical. Posted: 28 August Posted: 21 August Posted: 14 August Morning Liturgy Good morning again, child of God. Posted: 07 August Posted: 31 July Posted: 24 July Posted: 17 July Where Is Ephesus?

Posted: 10 July Posted: 03 July Ephesians with Coffee The unsearchable riches of Christ… Ephesians This letter; this truth packed fine and tight like a new brick of coffee in the morning. Pause again, regather scattered grains to a heap, pack down. Posted: 26 June Jesus, The Very Thought of Thee Jesus, the very thought of thee with sweetness fills the breast; but sweeter far thy face to see, and in thy presence rest. Posted: 12 June Posted: 05 June Rich in Mercy The gift of the Son of Man is free.

Posted: 29 May Resuscitation But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses — made us alive together with Christ Eph. Posted: 22 May Should God suddenly speak, the phlox would not be flummoxed or the red-tailed fox baffled.

Would it really be so strange if the still, small voice broke open like a bulb beneath the earth, then aired something sensible as the strong stem lifting high its lit lantern, signaling us to join in, do what we were made to do? Posted: 15 May I Sang in Darkness —— On the occasion of a special birthday The bathroom light flickers out.

Posted: 08 May Astrophysics Eph. Who says Love cannot be both particle and wave? Love which brought us together despite the darkness, should keep us together despite day breaking. Verse 2 : Light cannot speak, but is all eyes. If it could speak as well as spy on us, the worst that it could say was that I wish to stay being happy, and that I loved my heart and honour so much that I did not wish to leave him who possessed them both. Verse 3 : Must your duties take you away from here? He who has duties and makes love does as much wrong as a man who is married does if he woos another woman.

Verse 1 : All kings including James 1? All other things move onwards towards their death, and only our love does not decay. Our love has no tomorrow, or yesterday, and flowing on it never flows away, but always remains fixed at its first and last and everlasting day. Verse 2 : Two graves must contain your corpse and mine.

If only one were to do so then death would not be a parting. Alas, just like other princes, we who are princes enough in having, and being merged in, one another must in the end leave our eyes and ears behind, which have often been regaled with true oaths and sweet salt tears. But souls in which nothing dwells but love all other thoughts merely being temporary lodgers there will display this love, or a greater love, there above in heaven, when bodies are consigned to the grave, but souls rise from the grave of their bodies, the flesh being seen as a prison or grave of the soul in Neo-Platonism especially.

Verse 3 : And then we shall be blessed through and through, though no more than all the other true lovers. Here on earth we are kings, and none can be such kings as we can, nor be kings of such subjects as ourselves. Who is as secure as we are, since no one can betray us except ourselves? Let us refrain from true or false fears, and live nobly, and live on, and add years and years to years, until we reach sixty.

This is now the second year of our reign their love is now more than a year old. Verse 1 : My name engraved on the glass with some hard object, for example a diamond ring adds my constancy to it which, since that emblem was cut, has been as firm as the object was that made the engraving. Your eye, seeing it, will give it a value well beyond that of any diamond, classified as of either rock diamonds were classified as new rock or old rock, the latter being larger, named presumably from their origin in an older series of mine or in more recently discovered mines.

Verse 2 : It is good that the glass is as honest and transparent as I am, and even more so that it reflects your face and shows you to yourself probably a play on the name of Ann More here. Verse 3 : Just as the showers and storms cannot wash away a single point or stroke ornamenting my signature, so I will always remain the same as it will. And you will be better able to remain wholly constant like this, because you will have it before you as an example.

Verse 5 : Then as all my souls the Aristotelian doctrine allotted human beings three souls, a vegetative soul of growth like plants, a sensitive or sensory soul common to man and animals, and a rational and immortal soul unique to human beings are vested in you who are my paradise — you in whom alone I understand and grow and see — referring to the powers of the three souls as described above my bones which are the rafters of my body being still with you in the form of my signature, then the muscle, sinew and vein which tile this house of the body will return to you as the reconstituted body will return to the resurrected soul in heaven.

It will make you more Ann More? Verse 7 : When you carelessly fling the window open, making the window glass, with my name engraved on it, quiver, in order that you can gaze at some rival, whose mind or possessions aids him in making an assault on your heart, then imagine my name as alive, and that in doing so you offend my guardian angel. Verse 9 : And if this disloyalty of yours prompts you to overt action, and you reply to him, then in addressing it may my name flow into your mind from the window glass, and may you put my name as the address rather than his.

In that way, you will remember me correctly while forgetting me, and will write to me, though you are unaware of it. Verse 1 : Blasted with sighs by the wind, by love, and perhaps by the atmosphere of grief surrounding the death of Lady Egerton at York House on 20th January ? O perverse sex, womankind, where none of them are true but my mistress, who must be true because the proof of it is that her loyalty to others is killing me. Note: This is an extremely difficult poem to understand fully because of the lack of context.

It feels to me like a poem from the period , and that the woman referred to is Ann More, but that may well not be the case. There no one will attempt to cause schism by questioning the loyalty of any pair of lovers, when they see how Love grants us grace, allowing us to make, keep, use and ultimately be these records of love. We are documenting this for the initiates, the scholars of love, and if the ravenous Goths and Vandals should again attack Europe, learning would be preserved, because from our history, which is our universe of love, scholars might learn science, the celestial spheres how to make their music, and the angels how to compose verse.

For, though mind is the heaven where love resides, a beautiful body may provide a suitable representation of it. And give honour or conscience as their excuse for abandoning him, things which are idle fantasies, as idle as are they themselves and their privilege. Verse 6 : Here, statesmen or, cynically, such of them as know how to read may understand the nature of their occupation or skill art , which like love will be damaged by its revelations.

If anyone proceeds to examine what that nature is, then it appears that those who excel in statesmanship or in love are those who handle affairs of the moment well, the vulnerability and fragility of which no one speaks about, or dares to speak about. In this book of yours these statesmen and lovers will see a superior example of their own inferior skill, just as some people think they can find substantiation in the Bible for their own inferior belief in alchemy.

The best test of the extent of a love is made when you are with some one, but absence from them tests how long it will endure. Note: the poet plays on the meaning of latitude, extent, and longitude, length, as an analogy for the extent and duration of love. Verse 1 : We are obliged to love the good, and hate the bad, since bad is always bad and good is always good.


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But there are things which are neither good nor bad indifferent , and we can choose to hate them or love them alternately, just as our fancy takes us. Verse 2 : If Nature had originally chosen to make each woman either good or bad, then we would hate those who were bad and love those who were good. But since she chose to create them so that we can neither automatically love nor automatically hate them indifferent then the result is that any man may love or hate any woman just as he chooses. Verse 3 : If women were good it would be obvious since goodness is as visible as greenness, and reveals itself to everyone.

If women were bad they could not last long, since what is bad destroys itself and others, so it is clear that they neither deserve blame for being bad, nor praise for being good, being neither. Verse 4 : But rather they are used by men as fruit is. Those who taste the fruit a little, or completely devour it, or leave it completely alone all do as well as one another: different female lovers are simply different sorts of food, and when a man has eaten the kernel of a nut does he not throw away the shell?

Verse 1 : I can scarcely consider my love to be as pure as I thought it was, since it survives changes of fortune and season, like the grass. But if this medicine, Love, which cures every sorrow with fresh sorrow with more, again a play on her name? But like everything else which is composed of a mixture of elements Love must sometimes contemplate and view things in the mind, sometimes act and do things with the body is sometimes spiritual, sometimes physical. Verse 2 : Yet Love has not grown greater with the advent of spring, merely more visible, as in the sky stars borrow light from the sun, and shine more brightly though they are no larger an erroneous belief of the period.

If loving a person you creates more another play on her name? And though each spring adds new heat strength and passion to love, no winter will cause that increase to lessen, just as rulers levy more taxes in order to wage war, and still levy them even though peace is made.

Verse 1 : Any other devil but you, Love, would give something in exchange for my soul being given over to you. Your fellow deities ironic at Court every day teach the arts of verse, hunting, and gambling to those who were already in thrall to the Court and its courtiers. I alone receive nothing though I have given more having given his soul , but rather through being humble I am treated worse.

Verse 3 : Grant me your own disability, and make me blind the Love god Cupid being portrayed as a blind boy , as you and your agents are blind, in both respects, blind in sight and blind in mind. Love, never let me be aware that this which I feel is love, or that love is childish. Let me be unaware that others can see that she knows my pain, lest, because of it, a tender shame makes me a source of new sorrow to myself. Verse 4 : Though you give me nothing, Love, nevertheless you are right to do so, because I placed no trust in your first appearance.

Small towns that stand fast until they are taken by a weight of cannon, are not, according to the rules of war, allowed to make conditions for their surrender. The same rules apply to me, in the war of love. I cannot consider Love liable to show me his grace, having put him in the position of having to show his face.

Verse 6 : Love is enraged with me for forcing him to show his face, but chooses not to kill me. If I am to be made an example to warn off future rebels, if the unborn must learn by my flesh being cut up, and torn open, then kill me and dissect me, Love. For such torture as you are now applying to me works against your own aims, as bodies that have been tormented on the rack are of little use for anatomical study. Verse 1 : Some man who, through being false or weak himself being adulterous , was unworthy to experience old or new love, thought his pain and shame would be less if he could wreak his anger take revenge on womankind; so the law came about that one woman should only know one man sexually.

But is it the same with other creatures? Verse 2 : Are the sun, moon and stars forbidden to shine wherever they like, or lend their light to us? Are birds reprimanded or divorced if they leave their mate and roost somewhere else at night? Beasts do not lose the value of their marriage settlement just because they choose new lovers, but we are in a worse situation than them. Verse 3 : Whoever went to the effort of rigging a fine ship only to leave it anchored in the harbour, and not use it for exploration or trade? Or built fine houses, planted trees and arbours, only to leave the houses shut up, or decaying?

Good is not good unless many people possess it, and wastes away if it is guarded avariciously. Verse 1 : Dear love, I would not have broken off my pleasant dreaming for anything less than you: the theme of my dream was much too powerful to be fantasy and more suitable to be treated as real and rational. Therefore you were wise to wake me. Yet you did not end my dream, but merely prolonged it. You are so true faithful that thinking of you is enough to make dreams real, and fables true histories. Enter my arms: for since you thought it best to wake me, in order for us not to have to dream the rest of my dream let us act the remainder of it.

Verse 2 : Your eyes, like lightning or a candle-flame, and not your voice woke me. Yet, at first sight, I thought you were since you love the truth an angel. But from the moment I realised that you understood my heart, and knew my thoughts, with a power beyond that of any angel, and that you knew what I dreamed, and knew when excess of joy woke me, and came to me then, I confess thereafter it would have been a profanity to consider you anything other than a divinity being more all-knowing than the angels. Verse 3 : Coming to me and staying with me showed you as a divinity, but now you rise and go I am doubtful as to whether you are still true.

Love is weak when fear is equally strong. Love is not then a pure brave spirit if it is an impure mixture which also includes fear, shame and honour. Perhaps you treat me as men treat torches which are kept at hand to be lit and quenched again. You came to kindle me, and go away in order to return.

So I will dream that hope of your return once more, to prevent myself dying of our separation. Verse 1 : While I remain here, let me pour out my tears in front of you. For your face coins my tears and they bear your stamp, and because of the way they are minted like this they acquire value, since they are born from you. Verse 2 : Just as a craftsman, with the shapes of the continents to hand, can represent Europe, Africa and Asia on a globe, and quickly make the round zero shape of the sphere into a whole world note the absence of the Americas ; so each tear that reflects you is a globe, a world, because of that reflected image of you, until finally your tears mixed with mine overflow this tear-world that has been created, with waters sent from you her tears, and his tears induced by her , who are my heaven, and who dissolves with tears like rain.

Do not mourn for me as if I were dead and in your arms or, alternatively, do not make me die of weeping in your arms rather you should avoid teaching the sea to do what it may do in reality all too soon this implies he is leaving on a sea voyage. Do not let the wind learn, by this example, how to do me more harm than it already intends. Oh, it is all an imposture. Is love, in the end, merely sexual, in that my servant can be as happy as I can, if he is prepared to endure the brief and ridiculous act of love on the wedding night?

Do not hope for intelligence in women. Though they show their greatest sweetness and wit, even then they are still only dead flesh once they have been possessed or alternatively are mummified flesh possessed by an animating and possibly demonic spirit. Verse1 : May whoever guesses, thinks or dreams he knows who my mistress is wither as a result of this curse. May he be scorned by a woman, who is scorned by everyone else, swear falsely to others what he has sworn to her, and be torn by the fear of losing her, and the shame of having her:.

Verse 2 : May his sorrow turn to madness and his cramps turn to gout, merely by thinking about the woman who has inflicted him with sorrow and cramp. And may he feel no pang of conscience but merely the pain of scandal, and be anguished not that he had sinned with her, but that it was her he had sinned with. May he revere a woman for her virtue, who despises him for his impotence, and may both she and his potency prove equally traitorous. Verse 3 : Let him dream of treason and believe that he meant to carry it out; and confess to it; and die; and no record remain of why he did so.

Let his sons be bastards, and let them inherit nothing but his infamy. Or let him provide wealth to flatterers and hangers-on for such a length of time that he would willingly serve them, whom he has himself enriched, and in the end be circumcised in order to be regarded as Jewish and win charity from the Jews. Verse 4 : May the venom of all stepmothers, the bitterness of all gamesters, everything that tyrants wish regarding their subjects and subjects wish regarding their tyrants, whatever ills plants, mines, beasts, fowl, and fish can contribute, all ill that prophets or poets declared, and all ill that shall be added in formal lists to this, by me, fall on that man.

Since, if it is a she, Nature has already out-cursed me. Verse 1 : Send home my eyes, which have strayed from me for a long time now, oh, by gazing at you for too long. And yet since, in doing so, they have learned such ill things, such artificial modes of love, and false passions, that they have been made, by you, unfit for seeing anything good, then you may as well keep them. Verse 2 : Send home my heart, incapable of doing harm, which no unworthy thought could stain.

Verse 3 : Nevertheless do send my eyes and heart back to me, so I can know and see your lies, and can laugh and be joyous when you are in anguish like me and languish for someone who will have none of you, or proves as false as you are now. The sun is at its weakest, and now his powder-flasks, the stars, send out only squibs fireworks of light, not constant rays.

All the sap of the world has sunk, as it does in the trees during winter. The thirsty earth, as though suffering from dropsy, has drunk all the communal balm or life-giving essence Paracelsus , such that life has drained, as if through the feet of the bed, into that same earth and is there dead and interred. Yet all these things seem joyful compared to me who am their epitaph.

He shattered me to pieces and I am now conceived again from absence, darkness, death, things which are aspects of nothingness. Verse 3 : All other men draw what is good; life, soul, form, spirit, from everything and so have being.

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We two often wept a flood of tears, and so drowned the whole world. We often became like chaotic voids when we displayed concern for anything other than our love. And often absence quenched our souls, and made us like two corpses. Verse 4 : But I am none of these; nor will my sun grow in power again like the sun of the coming year.

All you lovers, for whose sake the weakened and also material rather than spiritual, therefore lesser sun is now in the sign of Capricorn the Goat the sign of lust fetching new lust for you, enjoy your summer which is approaching. Verse 1 : I fix my eye on yours and there I pity my image my reflection burning in your eye, and when I look beneath your eye I see my image again, drowned in a transparent tear.

If you possessed the art of witchcraft and were able to kill by creating and marring images, think how many ways there are by which you could carry out that murder. Verse 2 : But now I have drunk your sweet salt tears, and though you still weep I will depart. Once my reflection vanishes, then, any fear that I might be harmed by witchcraft vanishes also.

Verse 1 : Come and live with me and be my love, and we will discover some new pleasures among golden sands and crystal brooks, with silken lines and silver hooks. Verse 2 : There the river will whisper as it runs, warmed by your eyes more than by the sun, and there the fish enamoured of you will linger, begging to betray their presence to you. Verse 3 : When you wish to swim in that bath full of living things, each fish in every channel will swim to you amorously, more pleased to catch you than you him.

Verse 4 : If you are reluctant to be seen by the sun or moon, well you outshine darken both, and if I am allowed to look at you then I have no need of their light since I have yours. Verse 5 : Let others freeze with fishing rods, and cut their legs with shells and weeds, or treacherously attack the poor fish with a line to strangle them, or a mesh net.

Verse 7 : As for you, you need no apply no such deception, for you yourself are your own bait. The fish that is not attracted by such bait, alas, is far wiser than I am. Verse 1 : When I am dead, O murderess, because of your scorn for me, and you think yourself free of all my demands, then my ghost will come to your bed, and will find you, who feign to be chaste a Vestal virgin , embraced by an inferior man. Then your candle flame afflicted by my presence will begin to flicker, and the man who has possessed you, who is already tired, will think, if you stir or pinch him to wake him, that you wish to make love again.

Verse 2 : And feigning sleep will turn away from you. Then poor trembling quivering like an aspen tree wretch you will lie there, neglected, silvered with a cold sweat like quicksilver, mercury , looking more ghostlike than I will. I will not tell you now what I intend to say to you, lest it encourages you to return to me.

Since my love for you is over, I would rather force you to repent painfully than remain innocent because my threats warned you. Verse 1 : He is stark mad who can claim he has ever been in love for a whole hour without that love decaying so quickly that ten such loves can be consumed in less time than an hour.

Who would believe me if I claimed that I had the plague a year love being as much of an affliction as the plague? Who would not laugh at me if I said I saw a flask of gunpowder love being as explosive burn for a whole day? All other sorrows love being a sorrow allow room for other sorrows to possess us, and demand only a part of our spirit. Other sorrows come to us, but Love draws us to him, and swallows us without chewing.

Whole ranks of us are killed by him, as if by chain-shot cannon balls chained together. He is the tyrant pike and our hearts are the young fish which he consumes. Verse 3 : If that is not the case, then what else happened to my heart when I first saw you? I brought my heart into the room, but did not carry it away again. If it had merged with your heart, then my heart would have taught yours to show me more pity. But, alas, Love shivered my heart to pieces like glass at the first blow. Verse 4 : And yet nothing can turn into nothing, nor can any space be totally empty.

Therefore I think all the broken pieces are still in my body though they are no longer united. Now, as broken mirrors act like a hundred smaller mirrors, and show partial reflections, so my broken remnants of a heart can each like, wish and adore reflect lesser aspects of total love , but after one such love is shattered can love no more. Verse 1 : Just as men of virtue die gently, and whisper to the soul telling it to depart, while some of their sad friends say the last breath has gone, and others say no:.

Verse 2 : Let us, now we are separating, melt and make no noise, without floods of tears or storms of sighs.


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It would profane our joy to show the uninitiated our love. Verse 3 : Earthquakes bring harm and act as portents, and men consider the result and the meaning of them, but oscillations of the celestial spheres though more profound are not felt on earth innocent. Verse 4 : The dull love experienced by lovers in the spheres subject to decay and change, i. Verse 6 : So though I must depart, our two souls, which are as one, do not suffer a separation but an expansion, like gold sheet beaten to an airy thinness.

Verse 7 : If we can distinguish two souls rather than just one, then they are like the two stiff legs of a pair of compasses. Your soul, the fixed leg, does not try to move, but changes angle as the other leg extends or contracts. Verse 8 : And though the fixed leg sits in the centre of an inscribed arc or circle drawn by the other leg it still extends its angle and leans down towards the other leg as the other leg is moved outwards, and contracts its angle and rises as the other leg is moved inwards. Verse 9 : Just such a fixed leg you will be to me, who will be forced to move obliquely on my travels like the other foot of the compasses, since your constancy will make my path a true circle, and force me to end where I began, with you.

Verse 2 : Our hands were glued together firmly by an adhesive life-giving balm sprung from the earth, and our eye-beams conceived as lines of light from the eye rather than to the eye intertwined and threaded our sight together as if on a double string. Verse 4 : Just as the outcome of a battle is uncertain where the opposing armies are of equal strength, our two souls, which had committed themselves to that expansion and elevation of the soul achieved by love, hung between her therefore the poem is addressed to someone other than his lover and me.

Verse 5 : And while our two souls communed there, our bodies lay like statues on a tomb; our postures were the same all day, and our bodies never spoke. Verse 6 : If anyone, who had been so refined by experience of love that they could understand the language of the soul, and through loving well had become completely spiritual, had been standing near enough, he, though he could not tell which soul spoke, because both spoke the same words with the same meaning, might have taken away from there a new refinement of alchemical metals or minerals and go away purer than he came.

Verse 7 : This ecstasy removes our perplexity, we said, by telling us what we love. Verse 8 : Just as all individual souls are a mixture, of unknown qualities, Love re-mixes these mixed souls to make one soul that yet contains both souls, so that each is also the other. Verse 9 : A single transplant from a violet, placed in richer soil, doubles in strength, colour and size, and multiplies in number, despite being poor and scant before. Verse 11 : We then, who are this new combined soul, know what we are composed and made of, because the separate parts from which we it, the combined soul grow are the individual souls, which are impervious to change.

Verse 12 : But why, alas, do we forbear to use our bodies all this time. They belong to us, though they are not us, since we are the spiritual intelligences which control them, and they are the sphere controlled by those intelligences as the celestial spheres were said to be controlled by intelligences or angels.

Verse 13 : We owe our bodies thanks, because they allowed us to meet, allowing their powers and sensory data to be used by our intellects, and are not dross, the worthless residue thrown off in refining precious metals, but an alloy, an inferior metal mixed with the precious metals of the soul.

Verse 14 : Just as the stars work on man only by first imprinting the air with their influence, so soul may flow into the combined soul, though it first inhabits the body. Verse 15 : As our blood works to produce subtle vapours, as like souls as possible, because such fingers of vapour are needed to join body and soul, and so tie the knot that creates a human being also note the obvious sexual reference :. Note: the great prince may also refer to the Earl of Essex, under house arrest at his own York House, in , when Donne was resident there, which would, if true, assign the poem to a later date.

Verse 18 : And if some lover, such as we are, has heard this dialogue of two souls in the one compound soul, let him note how similar the merging of our bodies in lovemaking is to the merging of our souls spiritually. Verse 1 : I long to talk with the ghost of some lover of olden times, who died before the god of love was born invented. I refuse to imagine that the most intense of lovers then could have sunk so low as to love a woman who scorned him.

Verse 2 : Surely those who made love a god did not intend love to work like this. Nor did he when he was a new young god enforce such a perversity. Rather, when a like flame moved two hearts his role was to fit the active agent the man? His objective was to unite hearts that corresponded in their feelings. In that case it would not be Love, unless I loved a woman who also loved me. The god of love now extends his domain over rage, lust, love-letters and flattery, all beyond his original remit. Oh if only we were roused by this tyranny of his to take away his divinity again, then in that case I would not be forced to love her who does not love me.

For love could indeed do worse, and make me stop loving her, or inflict a greater suffering, and make her pretend to love me too, which since she already loves another would be a torment to see. Deceit is worse than hate, and she would be deceiving me if she, whom I love, pretended to love me. Verse 1 : How cumbersome, unwieldy, burdensome and corpulent my love would have grown if I had not dieted, and fed it on discretion, which love suffers least happily, so as to reduce it and keep it in proportion.

Verse 2 : I allowed love not more than one sigh a day, deriving from my fate and my faults. Verse 3 : If he wrung a tear from me, I salted it with scorn or shame to the extent that it failed to nourish him. If he sucked her tear I let him know it was not a tear he had ingested, that his drink was false, as was his meat; since eyes which are always turning about to gaze at everyone do not weep, they merely exude moisture from the effort.

Verse 4 : Whatever he dictated to me I would write down, but then burnt my letters. Verse 5 : So I reclaimed kept hungry and lean my buzzard, love, so as to be able to let it fly when hawking, i. Sometimes I rest, neglecting the sport. At other times, as other falconers do, I drive a mistress, like a game-bird, from cover, swear oaths to her, write to her, and sigh, and weep, and the game killed i.

Verse 1 : Before I sigh my last breath, Mighty Love, let me make my will and bequeath some legacies. Here I bequeath my eyes to Argus the mythical hundred-eyed giant of Greek mythology, i. If they lack sight I bequeath them to you, Love since Cupid is portrayed as a blind boy he is again bequeathing like to like. I bequeath my tongue to fame which is ever spreading word , and my ears to ambassadors who are all ears ; my tears to women who are always crying or the sea which is full of salty drops. You, Love, taught me before this, by making me serve a mistress who had twenty other lovers, only to give to those who possessed too much of the gift already.

Isabella Amaris

You Love, by making me love where that love would not be returned, taught me only to give to those who lacked the gift. You, Love, taught me, by making me love a woman who considers my love incongruous, only to give to those who equally consider my gift ridiculous. Verse 4 : I give my reputation to those who were my friends who are already charged with upholding it ; my diligence to my enemies who are already diligent enough , my doubts to scholars who already live by the spirit of doubt and enquiry ; my sickness to physicians who already spend their lives among the sick or to intemperance which is already well acquainted with it ; to Nature everything I have written in verse which is where I derived the inspiration for it and my wit to my companions who have already had the benefit from it.

You, Love, by making me adore a woman who had already moved me to love her, taught me to make the gesture of giving that which I was only returning or restoring.

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Verse 5 : I give my medical books to him who is the next to die i. You, Love, by making me love a woman who thinks mere friendship is a fit reward for younger lovers, render my gifts similarly inappropriate. Then all your beauties, Love, will be worth no more than gold buried where it is inaccessible. And all your graces, Love, will be no more use than a sundial in a grave, where there is no light. You, Love taught me, by making me love a woman who neglects me and love also, how to find a way and then execute it of annihilating all three of us.

Verse 1 : Whoever comes to dress me in my shroud when I am dead, do not harm or examine overmuch the subtle wreath of hair made from the hair of his loved one that encircles my arm. You must not touch that symbol, that secret charm, because it is my external soul. It is the second in command to my internal soul, and can act with sovereign powers on its behalf, so that when my inward soul has gone to heaven, it will leave this external one in command, and keep the body, its material domain, from decay.

Verse 2 : For if the nerves that extend from my brain to every part of my body can unify those parts all the limbs etc and make one person of the separate segments of me, then these hairs which grew upward on her head and took their strength and qualities from her more virtuous brain, can effect that unification and tie my parts together better than my nerves can.

Unless she intended by this bracelet of hair a different kind of tie, in that it would make me aware of my fate doomed to die of her love, yet tied to her by love as prisoners are manacled when they are condemned to die. Verse 3 : Whatever she meant by it, bury it with me. For since I am a martyr to Love, worship of this bracelet as a sacred object might be wrongly encouraged, if it falls into other hands.

Just as it exhibited humility on my part to allow it to do to me whatever a soul can do, so it is a sign of defiance to bury a part her hair of you with me, since you refused to save me from dying of your love i. Verse 1 : Little do you know, poor flower, that I have watched for six or seven days, and seen your birth and seen what each hour added to your growth, so as to raise you to this height, and that now laughs and triumphs on this bough, little do you know that the air will freeze soon and tomorrow I will find you fallen or reduced to nothingness.

Verse 2 : Little do you know, my poor heart, that still endeavours to find a nest, and thinks by hovering here to make a conquest of a forbidden married? Verse 3 : But you, my heart, who love to make fine distinctions to your own detriment, will ask why my going must concern you. So, since your body is going, why do you need your heart? Verse 4 : Well then, stay here, but you will realise after your stay when you have done the most you can, that a naked thinking heart without a body is to a woman only a kind of ghost; how will she know you are my heart, or since she lacks a heart how will she recognise that you are one?

Practice may make her know some other part practice of sex may make her recognise the sex organs but take my word for it that she does not know what a heart is note the conventional misogynistic sentiment. Verse 5 : Meet me in London then, twenty days from now, and you will see me more relaxed and contented from being with men, than if I had stayed behind with you and her. If you can be likewise more content with male company, be so: once there I would present you to another friend, who will be as glad to have my body as my mind. Verse 1 : On this primrose-covered hill, where if heaven were to distil a shower of rain, each drop could fall on its own primrose there are so many, and so provide manna, i.

Verse 2 : Yet I am not sure which sport I desire, one with six petals or one with four. For if my true love is less than a woman should be a four-petalled flower she would hardly be worth anything, and if more than she should be a six-petalled flower , she would be above all thoughts of sex, and seek to make my heart merely contemplate her rather than loving her. Both such options are monstrous. Since women are of necessity false, I would be happier with art rather than nature falsifying her. Verse 3 : So let primroses live and thrive with the regular number of petals, five.

And let women who are represented by the flower associated with love be content with this mysterious number five, the number of the pentagram, was also in alchemy the number of the five elements which included the ether or quintessence. If each woman is represented by the number five which is half ten, then each woman may consort with or take sexual connotation also five men.

Or if this is not adequate, then since all numbers are odd or even, and five is the sum of the numbers two and three, even and odd, and therefore represents all numbers, then women may take all men. Verse 1 : When my grave is re-opened so that a second body can be interred there to utilise the space, a traditional practice, the bones being interred in charnel houses , as graves have acquired that female trait, to be a bed to or simply, to bed, sleep with more than one man, and the grave-digger spies a bracelet of bright hair about the bone, surely he will leave us alone, believing that a loving couple lies there, who thought that the charm might allow them to meet at the grave, on Judgement Day, for a short while?

Verse 2 : If that should occur in a time or reign where Catholicism mis-devotion, i. Then you will be regarded as a Mary Magdalene traditionally represented with bright or golden hair and I a person associated with her, one of her lovers since Christ rose from the tomb, according to Christian belief, Donne clearly does not intend himself as Christ, anyway a blasphemous concept.

All women who all adore lovers and some men will reverence us. And since people look for miracles at such a time, I would like that future age to be taught by this poem what miracles we harmless lovers performed. Verse 3 : Firstly, we loved well and faithfully a miracle in itself , yet had no idea what or why we loved. Then we might happen to kiss on arrival or departure as is customary, but not between those moments of affection meals, in the sense of feeding on love: a third miracle. These miracles we performed. But now alas, I would exceed all measure and the powers of language if I were to say what a miracle she was being the fifth miracle, and as The Primrose suggests five is the number associated with women.

Verse 1 : When I am dead and the doctors have no idea why, and my friends, curious to know, perform an autopsy to examine each part, and they find your picture in my heart, you believe that a sudden poisonous mist of love will invade their senses, and act on them as it did on me, and so promote what you have done from murder to massacre.

Verse 2 : That is a cheap victory over us men. But if you dare to be brave, and take true satisfaction from your conquest, first kill the enormous giant Disdain, and then slay the enchantress Honour both guardians of feigned chastity , and like the Goths and Vandals deface the public records e. Verse 3 : For I could muster my giant and my witch, Constancy and Secrecy the cloaks under which a man might lay siege to a woman though I neither expect them from you, nor profess to them myself.

Kill me make me die of love, also exhaust me sexually as woman does, and let me die being a mere man. Be brave in a passive manner, and you will find that naked you have the advantage in inspiring love, and in sexual stamina over any man. My body therefore includes hers, and hence the things I consist of, become over-abundant in me, and overburden me, and smother me instead of nourishing me. And I might live wretchedly a long time like this, except that my fire, passion, grows again with the new fuel for it.

Now, as kings who wage war gain treasure by foreign conquest acquire more wealth, but spend more and are the first to become bankrupt, this death which I am amazed I can speak about has increased my expenditure of the elements in passion, sighs, tears and despair with their increase within me.

Verse 1 : You the ring are not as black as my heart, or as brittle as hers. What thought do you express or betoken? Do you symbolise both qualities of our love, nothing is more eternal just as the ring is endless, being circular nothing is sooner broken just as jet is brittle? Verse 2 : Marriage rings are not made of jet. Why should something less precious than is used for them, or less durable, be used as a token of our two loves?

Verse 3 : But remain with me now you are here, and circle my finger as you did her thumb. Be rightfully proud, and enjoy being safe in being with me, since she who broke her faith to me, would soon break you. Verse 1 : I have never stooped so low as those who can only find love in a lovely eye, cheek or lip. Because in the one case the senses, and in the other the understanding can grasp what it is that fuels their passion.

My love, though foolish or innocent, is braver than theirs. May I fail to find what I crave if it is merely something I already comprehend. Verse 2 : If the most perfect thing can only be expressed as Aquinas speculated concerning the deity by what it is not, by negatives, then my love is perfect. To all the things other men love, I say no.

If any man is so skilled at deciphering mysteries that he is able to understand what we have no understanding of, our own selves, then perhaps he can teach me about that nothingness. Verse 1 : Beware of loving me, or at least remember, I forbade you to love me. Not because I will restore my breath and blood with your sighs and tears, which I heedlessly wasted in producing my sighs and tears , by being to you what you once were to me, but because such great joy wears out our being, our life.

Verse 2 : Beware of hating me, or triumphing too much in your conquest of me. Not because I will act on my own behalf and repay hatred with hatred, but because you will lose the right to be called a conqueror if I, your conquest, perish through your hatred. Verse 3 : Yet, love and hate me too cf: Catullus odi et amo , so these two extreme passions cancel each other out. Love me, so I may die the gentler way through orgasm. Hate me, since your love is too powerful for me. Or let these two not destroy me themselves, and then I shall be a living exhibition, a stage, for you to display your conquest, rather than a triumph where captives were later slaughtered.

Lest you destroy your love and hatred and me, in order to let me live, love and hate me too. Verse 1 : So, so, break off this last sorrowful kiss, which sucks out our two souls and turns them to vapour. You, ghost, turn that way, and let me turn this, and let us darken our own day ourselves by parting.

We never asked anyone for permission to love, nor will we owe anyone for our death, so easily obtained merely by saying: go. Verse 2 : Go, and if the word itself has not quite killed you, make my death easy by telling me to go too. Oh, if it has killed you, let the word I uttered work against me, and perform a just sentence on the murderer by executing me. Except that it is too late to kill me in that way, since I am already doubly dead through parting from you, and telling you to go also. Verse 1 : For the first twenty years at a rate of a hundred years for each hour since yesterday, I hardly believed you had gone.

For the next forty years I thought about past favours from you, and spent the next forty on hopes that you and your favours would endure. Tears drowned a hundred years, and sighs blew out two hundred, and for another thousand I neither thought nor acted, or I did not divide them, since they were all one thought of you. Or perhaps in a further thousand years making two thousand four hundred in all, or twenty four hours I forgot that thought too.

Verse 1 : No lover says: I love. Nor can any other person pass judgement on an exacting lover. For he thinks that no one else can say, I love: nor that anyone can be in love but himself. And I cannot say, I loved, because who can say that he was killed yesterday since love kills but one cannot be dead and yet alive? Love, which possesses excess heat being younger rather than older, Death kills, through excessive cold disdain etc.

We only die once, and he who loved lately died of it. Whoever says we die twice is lying. Though the lover seems to breathe after death, and move for a while, it is a sensory deception. Such an extension of apparent life is like the twilight that lingers after sunset, or like the heat left behind in solid material by a fire that has died out two hours previously. I once loved and died, and now I am my own epitaph and tomb.

Here dead men speak their last words in epitaphs they write for themselves and so do I: I lie here slain by Love. Fools can only meet by using their feet to bring their bodies to one another; but why should our bodies hold so much power over our spirits? Verse 1 : While still inexperienced to be proven I thought Love was some kind of deity and worshipped him accordingly. As atheists at their dying hour call on some unknown power which they cannot bring themselves to name, so I craved in my ignorance for love.

Just as men desire things which are as yet unknown, and their desire gives shape to them, making them seem less when the desire is less, greater when the desire is greater. Being had sexually etc , enjoyment wanes, and what once pleased all the senses now occupies only one, and that unpleasantly, since it leaves behind a kind of sorrowing dullness in the mind traditionally the sixth sense.

Galen suggested they do not feel post-coital depression. Unless wise Nature decreed it, since they say that each sexual act diminishes the length of life by a day, so that men would despise love-making because the other curse of it lasting only briefly would otherwise encourage men to repeat it often to produce posterity: children, and successive moments of pleasure. Verse 4 : Since this is so, my mind shall not desire what no other man can find a deity in Love. I will no longer dote on and pursue things which harm me. And when I come to where beautiful women are that might move me to love, I will shun their passion though admiring their power, as men do when the summer sun is hot and they shun its heat.

Every place or level of society gives opportunities for shadow or opportunities to shun society. If all that fails, it is only a case of applying worm-seed the minute flower buds of the Levantine plant, Artemisia cina, used traditionally in Europe to expel worms from the intestine and combat fever to the tail slang for the male or female sexual organ, that is to treat the penis like a worm and treat it with a specific against worms, i. Verse 1 : Stand still, love, and I will read you a lecture about the philosophy of Love. During the three hours we have spent walking here our two shadows, which we produced, accompanied us.

But now the sun is directly overhead and so we tread on those same shadows and everywhere is free of shadow, and seen sharply clear. In the same way, while our loves had their infancy and were growing, our cautiousness meant that we masked them from others and let shadows flow from us to cloak our love. But that is not the case now. Verse 2 : That love is not at its zenith, has not achieved its greatest intensity, which still takes care that others do not see it.

Verse 3 : Unless our love remains at its zenith, we will be obliged to produce new shadows on the opposite side of us, as the sun sinks and we walk on. The first shadows were designed to conceal our love from others, but the new ones will affect us and blind our eyes. If our love grows faint and declines towards the west like the sun, you will disguise your actions towards me, deceitfully, and I will do the same with mine towards you.

Verse 4 : Love is a growing, or a constant light at its zenith , and its first minute after noon when it begins to fade is already night. About News Contact Shop Now. About News Contact. Contents The Flea. The Good-Morrow. The Undertaking.

Isabella Amaris: As The Moon And The Sun: Poems Of Love, Faith And Dreaming

The Sun Rising. The Indifferent. The Canonization. The Triple Fool. The Legacy. A Fever. Air and Angels. Break of Day. Another of the Same.