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Lady that in the prime of earliest youth,
Wisely hath shun'd the broad way and the green,
Daughter to that good Earl, once President
Of Englands Counsel, and her Treasury,
With You In My Life
My Life was a book of empty pages,
Some shredded in rages,
Others crayoned in black,
Proof how my life was a wreck.
Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless dores may sease,
XII. On the same.
I did but prompt the age to quit their cloggs
By the known rules of antient libertie,
A Book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon;
And wov'n close, both matter, form and stile;
Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own:
I wavered through the streets, among
Nothing mattered or had a name:
IT is not to be thought of that the Flood
Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flowed, 'with pomp of waters, unwithstood,'
When Faith and Love which parted from thee never,
Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God,
On Returning to the Front after Leave
Apart sweet women (for whom Heaven be blessed),
There are some qualities- some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
Edgar Allan Poe
Remember the 1340's? We were doing a dance called the Catapult.
You always wore brown, the color craze of the decade,
and I was draped in one of those capes that were popular,
the ones with unicorns and pomegranates in needlework.