BREATHLESS

 “Master Revelation”

I'm not too fit, I'll have you know,

I'm overweight and rather slow,

But when I run, I manage; though

I'm breathless!

Though in the past it was not thus,

I am not one to swear and cuss,

Except that, trying to catch a bus,

I'm breathless!

When as a youth, I used to play

With sweet young ladies in the hay,

The girls would be the ones to say:

"I'm breathless"!

At sport I'd always stay the course,

I was as strong as any horse,

But now, with just a little force,

I'm breathless!

I guess my life has reached the stage

When these things happen at my age.

If all my passions I assuage,

I'm breathless!

No longer, now, do I aspire

To climb a mountain, walk on fire,

Instead I curb each wild desire:

I'm breathless!

-o0o-

THE ROSE

Amanda McBroom

Some say love, it is a river

That drowns the tender reed.

Some say love, it is a razor

That leaves your soul to bleed.

Some say love, it is a hunger,

An endless aching need.

I say love, it is a flower,

And you it's only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking

That never learns to dance.

It's the dream afraid of waking

That never takes the chance.

It's the one who won't be taken,

Who cannot seem to give,

And the soul afraid of dying

That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been to long,

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong,

Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snows

Lies the seed that with the sun's love

In the spring becomes the rose.

-o-0-o-

STELLA'S BIRTHDAY - March 13th 1719

 Jonathan Swift 1667-1745

Stella this day is thirty-four,

(We shan't dispute a year or more:)

However, Stella, be not troubled,

Although thy size and years are doubled,

Since first I saw thee at sixteen,

The brightest virgin on the green;

So little is thy form declined;

Made up so largely in thy mind.

Oh, would it please the gods to split

Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit;

No age could furnish out a pair

Of nymphs so graceful, wise, and fair;

With half the lustre of your eyes,

With half your wit, your years, and size.

And then, before it grew too late,

How should I beg of gentle Fate,

(That either nymph might have her swain,)

To split my worship too in twain

-o0o-

Extract from

SONG OF SONGS

 My beloved spake, and said unto me, 

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, 

and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. 

Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

-o=0=o-