Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Love and other drugs

Dunno why - perhaps being brushed by the leafy wing of the Angel of a Very Sore Pate - but this has been on my mind this morning:

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

~ Andrew Marvell

My sun on this sunless day.


Syrbal/Labrys said...

Iron gates of life, indeed. And those sometimes rusty gates necessitating tetanus shots....

FDChief said...

Yep. That's the scary part; while we fear most the drumfire of our enemies and those who hate us, it is the ones we love that can slip inside our defenses and kill us with a word, or a look.

To love is to trust, and to trust is to make the beloved part of the bastion we build around ourselves. And, as we so often find to our sorrow, there is nothing so deadly and sure as the assault that slips in through the postern gate.

Syrbal/Labrys said...

Yes, loving is the very biggest risk of all, isn't it? And therefore it IS the stuff of legends, the definer of heroism. And once one HAS done it once, one does not stop....and that love grows and spreads to encompass more.

I'm not one for thumping allegedly holy books, but someone talking about love? Now there is the sacred...and I'd much rather die of and for love than of hate!

Lisa said...

The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.

I like the Cavaliers. Young men use their lines to get some action early in life, and after the disappointments and the dissipation of a life, their sentiments shine true, again.

Marvell & Co. remind us that this is the life we have, and the love we take is the love we make.

The Carpenters' "Hurting Each Other" came to mind the other day; why must people cause themselves and others such misery? Flat-out stupid, really.

"Some of them want to abuse you; some of them want to be abused."