Thursday, January 04, 2007

#256: January 4, 2007

Forsooth, milady! Say what thou wouldst think
should I, a lowly shepherd of the moors
approacheth thee, and thus present this drink
from my hand (O, unworthy hand!) to yours?

Acceptance! Such delight cannot be told!
And, by success made brave, now should I press
advantage, like those generals of old,
whose small vict'ries engendered greater--yes?

See here, your hand in mine--oh, be not shy!
'Tis like a beauteous bloom cradled by earth!
Another drink? But if thy lips be dry,
a kiss to wet them is of greater worth--

Ambrosia! Thou dost cause the sun to shine!
Barkeep, the bill! Now love--my place, or thine?

1 comment:

mrs. tool said...

Yay for pick-up poetry!