Love me little, love me long

[Robert Herrick | 1591–1674]

YOU say, to me-wards your affection’s strong;
Pray love me little, so you love me long.
Slowly goes far: the mean is best: desire,
Grown violent, does either die or tire.

||

Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song:
Love that is too hot and strong
Burneth soon to waste.
I am with little well content,
And a little from thee sent
Is enough, with true intent,
To be steadfast friend.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Say thou lov’st me while thou live,
I to thee my love will give,
Never dreaming to deceive
While that life endures:
Nay, and after death in sooth,
I to thee will keep my truth,
As now when in my May of youth,
This my love assures.
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Constant love is moderate ever,
And it will through life persever,
Give to me that with true endeavor.
I will it restore:
A suit of durance let it be,
For all weathers, that for me,
For the land or for the sea,
Lasting evermore.

Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Of Love: A Sonnet

How love came in I do not know,
Whether by the eye, or ear, or no;
Or whether with the soul it came
(At first) infused with the same;
Whether in part ’tis here or there,
Or, like the soul, whole everywhere,
This troubles me: but I as well
As any other this can tell:
That when from hence she does depart
The outlet then is from the heart.

Robert Herrick (1591-1674) was an English poet best known for Hesperides: Or, The Works Both Humane & Divine (1648), a book of poems. This includes the carpe diem poem “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time.”

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
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 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.

^ In the genre of carpe diem

Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May, by John William Waterhouse
‘Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May’ by British Pre-Raphaelite artist, John William Waterhouse (1909).

✍🏻 Abandonment

❝regrets do crush me flat❞

Why?
Before & After the split.

Sunlit I

Me and you were a real life fantasy
You and I were the destiny I’d dreamed
In you and your soul I found ecstasy
In your deep eyes and open mind I beamed.

I read it said that love can truly kill
This sounds far-fetched but I’ll tell you it’s not.
Since being forsaken I’ve been so ill
This ain’t hype, I’m tied in an awful knot.

Forsaken by you, abandoned at sea
Pushed to yesterday, by your doubting mind?
Thrown to history, I’m trapped, not free
Dumped in the basket, due to a new bind?

All’s not lost for after all, you’re alive,
in this cell, I etch: “Our love will revive!”

— Sensitive Soul to Secret Sharer


The moment’s monument

( 4, 4, 4, 2 IV–IV–IV–II )

✍🏻 Remorse

it’s really relentless

Remorse -- red-eyed
Bloodied knuckles & a cowardly lover’s letter, expressing his departing…

  Red-eyed and deadened heart
  endless regret and emptiness
  my time with you was divinity defined
  oh for the past: our perfect partnership
  resting on one another after amore
  searching each other’s open books
  everything was to look forward to


I'm sorry
I’m so deeply sorry
I'm so deeply sorry
I’m so truly sorry
I'm so truly sorry
I’m so sincerely sorry
I'm so sincerely sorry
I’m so totally and wholeheartedly sorry
I'm so totally and wholeheartedly  sorry
I regret my stupidity.
I regret my stupidity.
I’m more sorry than ever before.

✍🏻 I miss you

way, ‘way’ beyond belief

Revenge
bloodied knuckles & a cowardly lover’s letter, expressing his departing…

Limitless Infinity

   6 I look but I don’t see
  I hear but don’t listen

  I’ve never felt these deprivations
  I have never known such emotions

  I touch but I don’t feel
  I eat but it’s tasteless

  I’m literally not functioning
  I am but a dead human walking

  I breathe scentless flowers
  I yearn to sense your soul

  I’d give everything to be with you
  I would do anything to be yours 9

^∞


The Cloths of Heaven

from Yeats by way of me 2 U

Had I the heaven’s embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light;
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

W. B. Yeats

A while ago I profiled Yeats and gave a few lines of the poem above, I think that reading it as a whole is very much more moving (; profound etc.)… ^

&, here’s another. This is not about love though. For me, it’s somehow about being (stuck) on the shoulders of giants which is, I’d say, a mixed blessing; a double-edged sword (good for scientific advancement but an impediment to artistic originality — deference… ‘gratitude’… reverence… dependency… &c.):

Gratitude to the Unknown Instructors

What they undertook to do
They brought to pass;
All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass.

W. B. Yeats


XX. JUST ANOTHER NUMBER

  Tied to an Oak and Ghaf rack I abear,
  whenever weren’t love a thing to revere?
  It’s the heart of every sordid affair;
  was mine dashed by the whim of an Emir?

  We’d heaven ’til reality’s ensnare,
  there’s no fate worse than this heartfelt despair.
  Lost love lacerates, I hereby declare;
  you’re the sand’s one jewel, this I’ll not forswear.

  Stretched to the edge of reason I clamour,
  my heart begs you to hear its enamour.
  My words aren’t read yet I shall enedevour,
  for with lost love I’ve just them and velour.

  Damn these feeble rhyming lines, I’m too blue;
  I dream of your neck and love-biting you.


p.s.

mixed blessing
a thing that has disadvantages as well as advantages. — “Declaring the word love so late in their relationship was, with the benefit of objective and dispassionate hindsight, very much a mixed blessing…”


a double-edged sword
a situation or course of action having both positive and negative effects. — “Talking candidly about their darker thoughts was a double-edged sword in, oh so many bittersweet goddamned ways.”