Friday, September 01, 2006

Correspondence #8

And let your soul taste each day's pleasure, spite of grief...


Let not your days without pleasure expire,
Honour's but empty, and when youth is ended
All men will praise you, but none will desire.
Let not youth fly away without contenting,
Age will come, time enough for your repenting.


Dear, do not your fair beauty wrong
In thinking still you are too young.
The rose and lily in your cheek
Flourish and no more ripening seek.
Inflaming beams shoot from your eye
Do show love's midsummer is nigh.
Your cherry lips, red, soft and sweet
Proclaim such fruit for taste is meet.
Love is still young a buxom boy,
And younglings are allowed to toy.
Then waste no time, for love hath wings
And flies away from aged things.

Robert Johnson

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