Methinks a black patch blinds my mind’s eye…

Methinks a black patch blinds my mind’s eye,

But, quoth I, ‘methinks’? how compass think I,

If my mind’s eye be out? Once thought I loved,

Baseless thought! – by no pivotal motion moved,

But, come, come, soft, mine outward eye views, though mind’s not:

The wench’s garish sun, that by eclipse of age will not blot;

Wherefore then by my mind, whose light mine eyne doth bewray,

How dark which possess full the full tribute of day?!

O true-fair she is ‘gainst my mind’s dark claim,

Surer yet ever than deft archery made aim!

*************************************

No princess she, to rise by her father’s, like sails rigging,

But in her breed golded thrones, not thron’d by breeding:

Her triumph’s her own, more glorious than Juno’s,

Nor no thanks owes to the goddess for the strange-got excess she owes!

More god than mortals, less mortal than gods,

‘Pon her worth empiricurious conspectuses cross at odds!

Such curio of he rank not please, rather inebriate;

Nor such storminess of sweetness, where’s spleeny mood might’st placate?

This stoutly nature, whiles the wild world wax winter’d,

But the purer grows, not frailty by Season’s rough hand splinter’d!

************************************

Thus her reign not summer, nor winter, autumn, nor springtide knows,

But ‘gainst blasts of cold and violence of heat freshly grows!




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By Sydney Chesterfield on June 12, 2016 · Posted in Braindrops On Yellow Leaves, Literary, Poetry, Trends

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