(As she is usually expressed with a Seraphim beside her.)


Well meaning readers! you that come as friends
And catch the precious name this piece pretends;
Make not too much haste to admire
That fair-cheeked fallacy of fire.
That is a Seraphim, they say
And this the great Teresia.
Readers, be rul’d by me; and make
Here a well-plac’d and wise mistake
You must transpose the picture quite,
And spell it wrong to read it right;
Read him for her, and her for him;
And call the saint the Seraphim.

Painter, what did’st thou understand
To put her dart into his hand!
See, even the years and size of him
Shows this the mother Seraphim.
This is the mistress flame; and duteous he
Her happy fireworks, here comes down to see.
O most poor-spirited of men!
Had thy cold pencil kist her pen
Thou couldst not so unkindly err
To show us this faint shade for her.
Why man, this speaks pure mortal frame;
And mocks with female frost love’s manly flame.
One would suspect, thou meant’st to paint
Some weak, inferior, woman saint.
But had thy pale-fac’d purple took
Fire from the burning cheeks of that bright book
Thou wouldst on her have leapt up all
That could be found seraphical;
Whate’er this youth of fire wears fair,
Rosy fingers, radiant hair,
Glowing cheek, and glistering wings,
All those fair and flagrant things,
But before all, that fiery dart
Had fill’d the hand of this great heart.

Do then as equal right requires,
Since his the blushes be, and hers the fires,
Resume and rectify thy rude design;
Undress thy Seraphim into mine.
Redeem this injury of thy art;
Give him the veil, give her the dart.

Give him the veil; that he may cover
The red cheeks of a rivall’d lover.
Asham’d that our world, now, can show
Nests of new Seraphims here below.

Give her the dart for it is she
(Fair youth) shoots both thy shaft and thee.
Say, all ye wise and well-pierc’d hearts
That live and die amidst her darts,
What is’t your tasteful spirits do prove
In that rare life of her, and love?
Say and bear witness. Sends she not
A Seraphim at every shot?
What magazines of immortal arms there shine!
Heav’n’s great artillery in each love-spun line.
Give then the dart to her who gives the flame;
Give him the veil, who kindly takes the shame.

But if it be the frequent fate
Of worst faults to be fortunate;
If all’s prescription; and proud wrong
Hearkens not to an humble song;
For all the gallantry of him,
Give me the suff’ring Seraphim.
His be the bravery of all those bright things,
The glowing cheeks, the glistering wings;
The rosy hand, the radiant dart;
Leave her alone, the Flaming Heart.

Leave her that; and thou shalt leave her
Not one loose shaft but love’s whole quiver.
For in love’s field was never found
A nobler weapon than a wound.
Love’s passives are his activ’st part.
The wounded is the wounding heart.
O heart! the equal poise of love’s both parts
Big alike with wound and darts.
Live in these conquering leaves; live all the same;
And walk through all tongues one triumphant flame.
Live here, great heart; and love and die and ****;
And bleed and wound; and yield and conquer still.
Let this immortal life where’er it comes
Walk in a crowd of loves and martyrdoms.
Let mystic deaths wait on’t; and wise souls be
The love-slain witnesses of this life of thee.
O sweet incendiary! show here thy art,
Upon this carcass of a hard, cold heart,
Let all thy scatter’d shafts of light, that play
Among the leaves of thy large books of day,
Combined against this breast at once break in
And take away from me my self and sin,
This gracious robbery shall thy bounty be;
And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me.
O thou undaunted daughter of desires!
By all thy dow’r of lights and fires;
By all the eagle in thee, all the dove;
By all thy lives and deaths of love;
By thy large draughts of intellectual day,
And by thy thirsts of love more large than they;
By all thy brim-fill’d bowls of fierce desire
By the last morning’s draught of liquid fire;
By the full kingdom of that final kiss
That seiz’d thy parting soul, and seal’d thee his;
By all the heav’ns thou hast in him
(Fair sister of the Seraphim!)
By all of him we have in thee;
Leave nothing of my self in me.
Let me so read thy life, that I
Unto all life of mine may die.

I long to talk with some old lover’s ghost,
Who died before the God of Love was born:
I cannot think that he, who then loved most,
Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn.
But since this god produced a destiny,
And that vice-nature, Custom, lets it be,
I must love her that loves not me.

Sure, they which made him god meant not so much,
Nor he in his young godhead practised it;
But when an even flame two hearts did touch,
His office was indulgently to fit
Actives to passives. Correspondency
Only his subject was; it cannot be
Love, till I love her that loves me.

But every modern god will now extend
His vast prerogative as far as Jove.
To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend,
All is the purlieu of the God of Love.
Oh were we wakened by this tyranny
To ungod this child again, it could not be
I should love her who loves not me.

Rebel and atheist too, why murmur I
As though I felt the worst that love could do?
Love might make me leave loving, or might try
A deeper plague, to make her love me too,
Which, since she loves before, I’m loth to see;
Falsehood is worse than hate; and that must be,
If she whom I love should love me.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                 Shakespeare: Honoring a Muse is Sexist, They Say

                                    Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 38

They say that honoring one’s muse is sexist now
That the nine goddesses plus one are victims
Objectified passives honored in name
But neglected when the royalties are paid

But a muse is a goddess of power and truth
The artist or writer does indeed gaze at her
But the goddess gazes back, informing your art
With her beauty and her sternest truths

They say that honoring one’s muse is sexist now -
Ignore their jealousies: obey the goddess

european article 11 & 13...

a comment i wish i made:

my convulsing, ardent attempt to craft a hello to break a silence, as humor ridden as possible...weird prosthetics... scouts of the daft void, limbo passives... i hope i am the words that say: you cannot abandon the life that is most clarifying to you, in the current, & subsequently apparent... can i allow myself to suppose playing ping-pong with a (hopefully) awaiting recipient? i made notice of what people leave in the comment section in a spectrum of other pages... and... i... had to forget myself, being socially adept, for the worth of a market sq. pseudo-tirade... i don't want to sell Ecuadorian bananas... or Russian promises...these are my words... they are but akin to scuttling rats... harangue.. misnomers by any misnomer standard... bait of the contra-blank... i want to write, what is worth forgetting, with what i am to fall asleep with, and not wale up with, tomorrow; which i will, nonetheless will, have to wake up with; in short?

love the poetry.

who died what who what fate?
one cannot even
attempt
succumbing
to a non-rugby-player
status
of language usage...

              so...
no... forget it...
      me?
i'm starting to even bother
giving a **** about
the whole affair...

     the e.u. the e.u.
  the e.u. the e.u.
       the e.u.
is on fire...
    the e.u. the e.u.
is on fire...
the e.u. is on fire...
we need no water let
the e.u. burn
burn e.u. burn...

   Kentucky...
we also wished you came
across
the Atlantic...
to deal with the Nazis...
because...
we were the people
who needed the
more the mode of
more McDonalds...

H'america:
      needed elsewhere!

   hey!
'ere we go go no go...
status
sub-Stockholm suburia.

In jedem Moment,
in dem eine Person lebt,
ist sie ein passives Werkzeug der Unvermeidlichkeit

What up big dog its that that's the police officers diggler prayer with his esteem
Esteemed colleagues and passives minority oppressives
We not too here for that

Starter coat

Good morning Sloane

Law 1

Obtain deployed decoys last name

Order sent federal detain watson
Ventura police
Go army
Budget camp
He homeless

Rashid mc the mystic
Stumbled upon to a leaf missed tick
Now his daughter pay the funk master tell me no hearts is broke

Dj rasheed
At 8-11 under a.m find routine e break and low beam the ballroom mid city team leads

Follow all orders I made nasa hire my eggs

Remember duty first end for most im journalists of tada and brass retirement service depart

Too many Brady's for Kamala Wisdoms minds your focal point guards the bills hands

Kendall fund my enlisted a punked car son he can't flex off exempt!!!

In the army reserves we are granted a theatre company in peace time that we will have no means under title to deploy

And from that a public deployment if war theatre is an act of a traitor

All aligned coordination and coordinates visible under our knights sky that's the marines are henceforth marked and painted
That's a go

Police have drawn a line

That's news