Letters To Shindara by E.R. Chesterfield Literary Poetry


Rose 1


See how piteously I gasp under fangs of a bitter world,

For the world I think so long and tedious,

Having expended twenty years past, and seek now quietus –

That, yet young, I feel the harsh winter of Age blowing cold.

But your strange refusal commands a sudden old Age upon my years

With offhanded skill, which hardly being above a year or two,

Inverts silver hairs on my head, deep-delved ridges in my brows too –

A bending of the back, and sinking eyes, as if drowned in tears.

And I submit to know here in earnest, that before your ladyship

Is my person a most abominable thing!

But for that you are, as what I am, do pray be pitying,

To warm my blood again, which but now grows cold, with descending friendship:

If your virulent spite leaves me some years still to live,

What will your most beneficent love, you must wonder, then give?


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About the author

Sydney Chesterfield

Poet, Playwright, Philosopher, Humanitarian, mad lover of children and unflinching fighter for equality on all grounds viz. Women's rights, child rights, sine die.

Twitter: @syd_field