SoP 7: "To His Coy Mistress" and The Danger of Loving an Imp

To His Coy Mistress
Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast;
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart;
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
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
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
- - - - -
The Danger of Loving an Imp
Tis dangerous to love a slyish imp,
To strangers she is quite skeptic
And when she's a skeptic, the stranger is prone
To 'ceive blows most knavish, that's typic.

Inately s'picious, she gets quite confused
About her nameless admirer.
And when she's confused, you'd better watch out
For iminent impish-like fire.

With folk she don't know, whose i.d. stay mum
Under the veil "Anon'mous,"
She smirks a sly smirk, and says to herself,
"I've 'cided to be auton'mous...

"...And possibly wield my blog-running power
By ex-naying that shadowy shroud
And so my Admirer'd have to say something,
No longer 'hind the 'nonymous cloud."

And with a poised finger she almost did press
The button to cut off the choice,
And then she did think, "But what if the guy
Loses the courage, his voice?"

The impish girl thought, then with a sigh-shrug,
"I'll give it just one more small chance."
And so, Secret One, I say to you now,
To willingly show self's last chance.
- - - - -
To be frank, if a certain somebody (you know who you are) doesn't give me some kind of clue (blogger profile link, webpage/blog link), the option of comments-in-complete-anonymity's going adios, sianara, good-day-to-you-sir. I've been good enough to inadvertantly give a certain somebody a glimpse of my soul, I think I deserve the same.
- - - - -
I apologize for neglecting to post a poem yesterday, I simply didn't have time to whip anything up. Perhaps I'll double up one of these next days.