I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,
For else it could not be
That she,
Whom I adore so much, should so slight me
And cast my love behind.
I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,
For else it could not be
That she,
Whom I adore so much, should so slight me
And cast my love behind.
Think but how dear you bought
This fame which you have caught:
Such thoughts will make you more in love with truth.
A virtue, like allay so gone
Throughout your form as, though that move
And draw and conquer all men's love,
This subjects you to love of one.
Come my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love Time will not be ours forever He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain Suns that set may rise again, But if once we lose this light 'Tis with us perpetual night.
Because I love you, I love you, my love,
in the attic where children play,
dreaming ancient lights of Hungary
through the noise, the balmy afternoon,
seeing sheep and irises of snow
through the dark silence of your forehead.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories