man that's awesome. I think my distaste for olde poetry has a gap
somewhere in the 1500s, though the reason I thought this was wonderful
was that I thought at first that Jon had written it as a
shoutout/homage/parody. all those brests...
KS
On 03/09/07, Jon Corelis <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> SONNET
>
>
> Faire is my loue for Aprill in her face,
> Hir louely brests September claimes his part,
> And Lordly Iuly in her eyes takes place,
> But colde December dwelleth in her heart:
> Blest be the months, that sets my thoughts on fire,
> Accurst that Month that hindreth my desire.
> Like Phoebus fire, so sparkles both her eies,
> As ayre perfumde with Amber is her breath:
> Like swelling waues her louely teates do rise,
> As earth hir heart, cold, dateth me to death.
> Aye me poore man that on the earth do liue,
> When vnkind earth, death and dispaire doth giue.
> In pompe sits Mercie seated in hir face,
> Loue twixt her brests his trophees dooth imprint.
> Her eyes shines fauour, courtesie, and grace:
> But touch her heart, ah that is framd of flynt;
> That fore my haruest in the Grasse beares graine,
> The rockt will weare, washt with a winters raine.
>
>
>
> -- Robert Greene
>
>
> --
> ===================================
>
> Jon Corelis www.geocities.com/jgcorelis/
>
> ===================================
>
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