As between playsome Youth and grave Man was the room between me and you

In the room where I across sat from you –

As my balls of eyes that were wont to roam came still upon you,

And my mouth, like gates of hell, gaped wide in awe of you.

Eyes-still and mouth-gaped I up walked to you –

With eyes to goggle but no tongue to bear you’re your wonder to you,

For the jewelried thought my mind bore, tongue would not give you

No easier than court-fools their king’s beds could imbue.

So there stood I like a lapdog lost, in my eyes with dew,

And cursed the eyes which led me, legs conveyed me to you!

Are you true in seeming, were beauty by seeming true,

Or merely my duteous eyes wear this majesty about you?

But if you be true in that you seem, and you are you,

Then am I myself not, to fall in love with you,

Since I see with eyes, and eyes traitors be, which make Love to rue;

Frauds! which blind heart’s eyes with bright decoys of their own, in right undue!

And if looks do beguile looking, and these eyes be mere flatterers of you –

As still by these twinned tyrants I be led, and straight to you –

I’m fallen in a gulf bottomless, and my dark woes accrue

In light of you, that I never should come up, and fare free of you:

And though I turn blind, your frame in my heart still keeps, I’ll still worship you!

By men’s eyes, or by yourself, you live the sweetest maid –

And men’s love from you never should cease, till God’s work be unmade!

Yet there sighed I with the baggage of my thoughts in vain,

Long after you were gone, hopeless to be seen again!


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By Sydney Chesterfield on April 28, 2016 · Posted in Letters To Shindara by E.R. Chesterfield, Literary, Poetry

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