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Showing posts from November, 2020

The Return, By Mary Oliver

The deed took all my heart. I did not think of you, Not ’til the thing was done. I put my sword away And then no more the cold And perfect fury ran Along my narrow bones And then no more the black And dripping corridors Hold anywhere the shape That I had come to slay. Then for the first time, I saw in the cave’s belly The dark and clotted webs, The green and sucking pools, The rank and crumbling walls, The maze of passages. And I thought then Of the far earth, Of the spring sun And the slow wind, And a young girl, And I looked then At the white thread. Hunting the minotaur I was no common man And had no need of love. I trailed the shining thread Behind me, for a vow, And did not think of you. It lay there, like a sign, Coiled on the bull’s great hoof. And back into the world, Half blind with weariness I touched the thread and wept. O, it was frail as air, And I turned then With the white spool Through the cold rocks, Through the black rocks. Through the long webs, And the mist fell, An

Sonnet by Shakespeare

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;     For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings     That then I scorn to change my state with kings.