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Saturday, January 3, 2009

Sonnet




Sometimes I wish that I his pillow were
So might I steal a kiss and yet not seen,
So might I gaze upon his sleeping eyen,
Although I did it with a panting fear.
But when I well consider how vain my wish is,
"Ah, foolish bees," think I, "that do not suck
His lips for honey, but poor flowers do pluck
Which have no sweet in them, when his sole kisses
Are able to revive a dying soul—Kiss him, but sting him not, for if you do
His angry voice your flying will pursue.
But when they hear his tongue, what can control
Their back-return? For then they plain may see
How honeycombs from his lips dropping be.
—Richard Barnfield (1574-1620)

3 comments:

jaymcfly said...

how lovely , watching the recent remake of Brideshead revisted which was pretty awfull . I thought why didn't they cast Action Alex as Sebastion flyte .

pity really as it could have been a good film .

Nick said...

vera: i found you a long time ago searching for ravel's string quartet in F and i want you to know that you shouldn't worry about hits or bounce percentages or whatever because I love your blog and I visit it lots and i wish i knew you in person.

love, nick

Vera said...

Oh, Nick, what a lovely thing to say. Thank you.