Ode

I

Fond Love, deliver up thy Bow,
I am becom more Love than thou;
I am a wanton growne, and wild,
Much lesse a Man, and more a Child,
From Venus borne, of chaster kind,
A better Archer, though as blind.

II

Surrender without more adoe,
I am both King and Subject too,
I will comand, but must obey,
I am the Hunter, and the Prey,
I vanquish, yet am over come,
And sentencing, receive my doom.

III

No springing Beauty scapes my dart,
And ev'ry ripe one wounds my heart;

I
Fluttering spread thy purple pinions,
Gentle Cupid o'er my heart;
I a slave in thy dominions;
Nature must give way to art.
II

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks,
See my weary days consuming,
All beneath yon flowery rocks.
III

Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping,
Mourned Adonis, darling youth:
Him the boar in silence creeping,
Gored with unrelenting tooth.
IV

Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers;
Fair Discretion string the lyre;
Soothe my ever-waking slumbers:

The first day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

The second day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Two turtle doves,
A partridge in a pear tree.

The third day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.

The fourth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Four colly birds,
Three French hens
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.

The fifth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me

I saw a Tiger's golden flank,
I saw what food he ate,
By a desert spring he drank;
The Tiger's name was Hate.

Then I saw a placid Lamb
Lying fast asleep;
Like a river from its dam
Flashed the Tiger's leap.

I saw a Lion tawny-red,
Terrible and brave;
The Tiger's leap overhead
Broke like a wave.

In sand below or sun above
He faded like a flame.
The Lamb said, " I am Love;
Lion, tell your name. "

The Lion's voice thundering
Shook his vaulted breast,
" I am Love. By this spring,

Watching love stories on TV,
watching a movie,
I wonder where we are.
I've wondered for a long time.
I've never seen any of us there,
straight on, like nouvelle vague lovers,
like psychedelic dancers.
I've never seen us, arms akimbo,
standing in the morning, waiting,
lying around in grassy meadows,
reeling in the pounding surf in a
burst of sunshine —
pale colors out of focus
or in focus, bright colors,
black and whites . . .

Where have we been all this time?
Where are we now, the right now which

Fair ! that you may truly know
What you unto Thyrsis owe,
I will tell you how I do
Sacharissa love and you.
Joy salutes me, when I set
My blessed eyes on Amoret;
But with wonder I am strook,
When I on the other look.
If sweet Amoret complains
I have sense of all her pains;
But for Sacharissa I
Do not only grieve, but die.
All that of myself is mine,
Lovely Amoret! is thine;
Sacharissa's captive fain
Would untie his iron chain,
And, those scorching beams to shun,
To thy gentle shadow run.

I

Face to face in my chamber, my silent chamber, I saw her:
God and she and I only, there I sat down to draw her
Soul through the clefts of confession:
" Speak, I am holding thee fast,
As the angel of resurrection shall do at the last!"
" My cup is blood-red
With my sin," she said,
" And I pour it out to the bitter lees,
As if the angels of judgment stood over me strong at the last,

Every night when the sun goes in,
Every True love, don't weep, true love, don't mourn,
True love, don't night when the sun goes in,
Every night when the sun goes weep, true love, don't mourn
True love, don't weep nor mourn for in,
I hang down my head and mournful cry. me,
I'm goin' away to Marbletown.

2

I wish to the Lord that train would come
I wish to the Lord that train would come
I wish to the Lord that train would come
To take me back where I come from.

3

It's once my apron hung down low,

No man may mount upon a golden stair,
Guido my master, to Love's palace-sill:
No key of gold will fit the lock that 's there,
Nor heart there enter without pure goodwill.
Not if he miss one courteous duty, dare
A lover hope he should his love fulfil;
But to his lady must make meek repair,
Reaping with husbandry her favours still.
And thou but know'st of Love (I think) his name:
Youth holds thy reason in extremities:
Only on thine own face thou turn'st thine eyes;
Fairer than Absalom's account'st the same;

Unto that lowly lovely maid, I wis,
So poignant in the heart was thy salute,
That she changed countenance, remaining mute.
Wherefore I asked: " Pinella, how is this?
Hast heard of Guido? know'st thou who he is?"
She answered, " Yea;" then paused, irresolute;
But I saw well how the love-wounds acute
Were widened, and the star which Love calls his
Filled her with gentle brightness perfectly.
" But, friend, an't please thee, I would have it told,"
She said, " how I am known to him through thee.