quinta-feira, 30 de março de 2017

This is poetry #1

Out of Catallus

COME and let us live my Dear,
  Let us love and never fear, 
What the sourest Fathers say: 
  Brightest Sol that dies today
Lives again as blithe tomorrow, 
  But if we dark sons of sorrow 
Set; o then, how long a Night 
  Shuts the Eyes of our short light! 
Then let amorous kisses dwell 
  On our lips, begin to tell 
A Thousand, and a Hundred, score 
  An Hundred, and a Thousand more, 
Till another Thousand smother 
  That, and that wipe off another. 
Thus at last when we have numb’red 
  Many a Thousand, many a Hundred; 
We’ll confound the reckoning quite, 
  And lose ourselves in wild delight: 
While our joys so multiply, 
  As shall mock the envious eye.

By Richard Crashaw

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