Classic poem of the day
I
Each Moment of the long-liv'd Day,
Lesbia for me does backward pray,
And rails at me sincerely;
Yet I dare pawn my Life, my Eyes,
My Soul, and all that Mortals prize,
That Lesbia loves me dearly.
II
Why shou'd you thus conclude, you'll say,
Faith 'tis my own beloved Way,
And thus I hourly prove her;
Yet let me all those Curses share
That Heav'n can give, or Man can bear,
If I don't strangely love her.
Member poem of the day
My cousin shares an early memory,
his first of Nature, in the Alps one year –
his Mum, excited, showed him butterflies,
which swooped around him in a dizzying blur
of black and gold. He recalls their whirring wings
in harmony with her familiar tones
as she provided their name. It’s Swallowtails,
remembered, maybe, from the ancient tomes
our grandad owned. And now, three days before
her treatment’s due, he swip...
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