To the Virgins , to make much of Time. Robert Herrick.

Gather ye rose buds while ye may ,
Old time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day ,
To-morrow will be dying.


The glorious Lamp of heaven , the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent , the worse , and the worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy , but use your time;
And while ye may go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

There is a lady sweet and kind. Anon.

There is a lady sweet and kind
Was never face so pleased my mind ;
I did but see her passing by ,
And yet i love her till i die

Her gesture , her motion and her smiles ,
Her wit , her voice , my heart beguiles
Beguiles my heart , I know not why,
And yet i love her till i die.

Cupid is winged and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change:
But change the earth , or change the sky ,
Yet i love her till i die.

Child at heart

I want to laugh from my soul,
I want to care and really care
I want to be scared and have her here
I want to lie and get tears
I want to ride on a bicycle
And never fall down
I want to run around with ribbons
I want to smile for no apparent reason

Think him worth thinking of again

She was benevolent , charitable good woman
Capable of few strong attachments ; most correct in her conduct
Strict in her notions of decorum and manners that were held a standard
of good-breeding .
She had a cultivated mind and was generally speaking , rational , consistent - but she had prejudices - the true way to love.
She knew that you cannot find love ... love finds you.
She must retrench - she drew up plans for economy
She made exact calculations
She wanted more rigorous measures , a more complete reformation
A quicker release from his debt , his effects
A much higher tone of indifference for anything but justice and equity.

...yet there it was not love .
It was a little fever of admiration which had all but gone out
but it might , probably must end with love for some

Disguise me what I am .. and be my aid as haply as I shall become

Now that you know all , you can destroy all
Secrets kept in the sheets are soon to be kept in the tongue
We don't have to whisper , she said ...
Another reason to be inadequate at love
Raise your glasses to her ...
Huzzah!
Hear! Hear!
Raise your glasses to her ...
Huzzah!
Hear! Hear!
Oh , but do not utter a word to mother dear
She that hath a strong disposition
Disappoint her I cannot ...
And yet I did ... yesterday
And not even her green gloves can clean away my sin
Cinderella ... oh , no
Me thinks she was terribly dull leaving her fate in the hands of her glass slipper
No , I hardly know why
What good does thinking do ... but what I feel
No , mother your green gloves cannot make me your little girl again
To be a woman at last is no simple task
One but be wary of the heart more than ever
But I writ sins not tragedies
Every minute is a chance to make a mistake
Every minute is a chance to make it right
This time ill start over , ill be witty
Try giving not being a masochist a try
I want to laugh , mother
Please do not see me for who i am now
But what ill become
Disguise me what i am and be my guide , as haply as I shall become.

Unrequited is quite right

Feelings are such terrible things to own
They tease you and tarry you along
As if you turned into a foolish person
Yes, that is what it is
Foolishness
If i were a heartless dame
I would be content
For i cannot let go of the one i fancy
Pity he does not fancy me
I'd often hoped that he did
But love does not tire one and leave the other
In indifference
So if i writ this and say he does
Twill be a falsehood
He is aware of my feelings and affections
Tis not altered his own
For his affections i have yet to behold
Or perhaps never,
Alas! A fair lady such as me
Cannot win the fancy of a lad
Perhaps i speak more than i ought
This displeases him
Or that i had long flowing hair and breasts up to my chin
These would please him
This is all Shakespeare's fault
He said 'Trip no further; pretty sweeting , Journeys end with lover's meeting'
Needless to say, unrequited love was never William Shakespeare's fort.

Of women , of love.

What a sad observation of women and of love
What has become of it , valueless
To find a woman with indefinite attachment and yet
the man can spare none for her
And yet he may share his love with a dozen others
What is just one woman ? No , you would need lots and lots
While some women aspire to find partners based
on degree of looks and wealth
Wealth and appearance are put the peripherals of love
They say love is a battlefield...
Then arm yourself - steady on your feet
Woman you will be subjected to the lying tongue of a man
Or the violent strike and the late night argument
Long ago when love was a duty , it was done dutifully
Am sure it was duly appreciated
Sir Lancelot of Camelot and his Damsel-in-Distress
Since then we have sought to destroy everything
Warnings of Global Warming , the white rhino
Will you destroy love also?
Love claimed greater than death
Biblicilly recognized as the greatest gift of all
Oh, when men would go to war for love
The thousand ships of the beach of troy and the young lovers defying all
Kings , governments , soldiers and peace - all for love
Oh , when writers would write about love like Shakespeare did:
Love alters not when it alteration finds...
When King would defy Lord and Religion for his mistress Boleyn
The age of duels , cloaks laid for chivalry
Alas! What an age
Where women and love are not valued.

The brief tale of the Lady-Dame & the Man-at- Charms.

The Poet:
O what ails thee fair damsel?
See how you lean your arm across your cheek
Is melancholy a visiting?
And yet i remember never seen you in such state.

The Lady-Dame:
Tis nothing of a little and a lot
I know only of myself & little of the world
My inexperience punish'd

The Poet:
Ah!I know what ails you , if it were not just fever or joint pain
See how you speak with such fervour & fiery retribution
A matter of the heart i see
And yet you claimed never to be in such state.

The Lady-Dame:
L'amour , l'amour they all cry
I cannot love , love is dead in my age
To love another is to show weakness
And yet i would , but i was quick rid off

The Poet:
My lady has met her match - The Man-At-Charms
Beware for he is much a feared
His love is most generous where it is most hurtful
He loves another and another and yet another!
And yet you claimed never to love one so . .

The Lady-Dame:
Love .. did the Bard sing it loud to me
Like a song i would listen morn , noon and night
Man-at-Charms in deed , but was i so smitten or was it a passing fleeting
I can never tell . .
I did tire of the role of the lady on the high tower
Away from the world and i wanted my world to collide with another
Why not him , then?
His eyes were wild and i am wild
I was drawn irrevocably to a desire to be adored , or desired
Nay , the lady doth protest
Nay not love , dear poet

The Poet:
I know thee well , virtuous as you are kind-hearted
Deny thy nym , thy true nature
You cannot love like the shells at sea
Testing the waters and leaving them on the empty shores
You are the very ocean,
Deep , wild and with timeliness beauty
Then how can you be much bereaved with him?

The Lady - Dame:
Beauty you say ,
What is the use of beauty if no one is there to appreciate?
If love is a sickness wouldn't his kiss be a cure
I'd be like Sleeping Beauty and finally wake from life
My beauty is wasted on my fears,and he would ignite somehow
Shall i speak of this longing , or am i much at stake?

The Poet:
Speak of plight , and i will but listen:

The Lady- Dame:
I'm ill with the thought of his kiss , laced with wine and sedition
To get these kisses four to tenfold
Had i but got one of this , i could writ ten thousand verses from a single kiss
But starved lips, received no rations and thirst was mistress & friend
Was i mistook?
When a kiss was a cure and i held my breath
What is it that makes men go mad?

The Poet:
I think it well in your favor
That Man-at- charms was aloofness
Did you not see his ways
Tis strange for you have a philosophical mind

The Lady-Dame:
What good does thinking do - but what i feel?
Dear Sir, Dear friend and fellow Poet
You cannot take a measure and make it measure
In life you think , you die so and so

The Poet:
You cannot be run away with feeling
Or misery shall be mistress & friend

The Lady-Dame:
Misery is my old friend ,offenses against me misery attempts at them
What of bitterness , she keeps me warm at night
For without the sour the sweet cannot be sweet
And yet i would be goaded to say i
Eat plentifully the bitter fruits of life

And i said never to be in such state:
Am i not a human being with warm blood running through my veins
And yet bear in mind - i am a prisoner of my doing
Paralyzed by deception and pain from early years
But its time like these you learn to live again
I am one and twenty
I am much guarded for my heart , my very being , my essence

The Poet:
All the more to wait for your white knight?

The Lady- Dame:
This is not the age of Camelot , and i am no Damsel-in -Distress
Why think me naivete just as Man-at -Charms
In this day & age there is no real love
No Brave & Gallant Sir.Lancelot on his white horse
With no ill intent or malicious design
Today we have , men with ill consequence
Our media , books & songs they make it lust, comic or games
You dare offer a remedy?

The Poet:
I dare not
But this reflection , be not afraid to give your heart
Life is cruel to be sure , but time malicious teacher will prove thee wrong

The Lady-Dame:
Oh ,the world can spin so madly, love can end so badly
Stories will end so sadly,
But he does not have my heart-ache so things will not end so badly.