Douglas Spencer (dougs) wrote,
Douglas Spencer

Random poetry.

I was trying, trying quite hard, to explain something to someone recently.
I was trying to express just what a particular state of mind is like.
I don't think that I entirely succeed.

In normal circumstances, I would have then reverted to poetry.
On this occasion, however, Shakespeare seems to have been there first.

Sonnet 57

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.

Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absense sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;

Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought,
Save, where you are how happy you make those.

So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.

I hope it makes a bit more sense now ...

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