Tuesday, October 05, 2004

Old poetry . . .

A grand facade, in gaudy summers dressed,
Sly damsels dipped in bold Diana’s cup
As puckish nymphs will, sporting, make a jest
Of pangèd hearts, and while destroying, sup.

Betrayed by such disguise as nymphets brave:
Defeating downy crowns and azure eyes,
They still enchant the pauper and the knave
Who so deceived do welcome their demise.

So I bereft of means to hie away,
Do clamor like a babe ‘twixt knaves and fools
And thus approve thy visage fair display;
What self-made sight amazes, passion schools.

Though rapt with wan delusion, I adore
The torture of thy beauty all the more.


I’ll make my venue under stars
And dream of places off afar
I’ll rest my head by crystal spheres
Amidst great midnight chandeliers
Afoot brass pearls of porcelain
Asleep in swaths of white
I’ll sing to my sweet chambermaid in silent, crystal night

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