Here's something exquisite for Valentine's Day: John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester.
He wasn't with us long (he died aged thirty three, poor man), but he left us some gloriously honest poetry.
Now, you may be thinking that honesty and Valentine's Day don't mix all that well, and on the whole I'd agree with you.
But how about this poem, below. Here we have reflection, honesty - and a love that'll last just about as long as those forests of scentless and never-opening Valentines red roses that are given every year.
Love and Life
All my past life is mine no more,
The flying hours are gone,
Like transitory dreams giv’n o’er,
Whose images are kept in store
By memory alone.
The flying hours are gone,
Like transitory dreams giv’n o’er,
Whose images are kept in store
By memory alone.
The time that is to come is not;
How can it then be mine?
The present moment’s all my lot;
And that, as fast as it is got,
Phyllis, is only thine.
How can it then be mine?
The present moment’s all my lot;
And that, as fast as it is got,
Phyllis, is only thine.
Then talk not of inconstancy,
False hearts, and broken vows;
If I, by miracle, can be
This live-long minute true to thee,
’Tis all that Heav’n allows.
False hearts, and broken vows;
If I, by miracle, can be
This live-long minute true to thee,
’Tis all that Heav’n allows.
Poor Rochester, who never got a chance to be poor old Rochester!
And poor, poor Phyllis.
Word To Use Today: false. This word comes from the Old English fals, from the Latin fallere, to deceive.
There is a book called ALL THE HEAVEN ALLOWS. Now I know where that's from! Thanks!
ReplyDeleteAren't those rare occasions terrific when the world suddenly makes slightly MORE sense!
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