O sweet wench ensoul’d, when you kiss, kiss you not lips…

O sweet wench ensoul’d, when you kiss, kiss you not lips,

No, nor with your lips, but with deep-delving eyes

Kiss my soul wet, and drench all there that lies;

Like heaven’s distill’d tears do earthly tulips!

What daemon I am, half god by soul, half mortal flesh;

Yet twice the god, half the man, kiss’d by thee,

Mason’d and weaken’d by your ensorcellery:

And where moulders flesh, twice-fired soul grows fresh:

As does slough go to make serpent glister new,

Or shed night to gloss heaven so sparkling view.

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

Allow then, O flesh, no cause that thou may’st fear,

Though fork-natured Fate come with his gift, foul or fair,

Thou smile out either hap, unaffright by defeat,

And, lo, he which mistrusts his conquests loses it;

As would oaken Fate where he finds thee dauntless,

Should he seek to breach your stockade; your lodger steel-enseal’d!

But O, the pity of it, that that close-conceal’d

Should wake the devil, and make him break our fortress!

For had thou ousted thy lesse and kept alone,

Fate had not come to make thy ruin his own!

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

But often men spare behind that would destroy them,

And that would save them uncharily condemn!




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By Sydney Chesterfield on May 14, 2016 · Posted in Braindrops On Yellow Leaves, Literary, Poetry, Trends

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