What we have sealed, and here have spoken,
Were loosed and echoed long before.
Leave we here a common token
Amidst its kindred thousand score.
We named Life ours, and all Her store,
Thought ours the fiat and command
That ruled Her subtle parts, which wore
The print of many a pulseless hand.
We drew and drank of all Life's Charms;
We owned we did invent Love's game;
But Love had lived in others' arms,
When Love went by another name.
All things we bore, others had buried.
The dead once wearied of what we'd prized.
And while with Love or Sin we tarried,
She slightly smiled, unsurprised.
-Thomas Banks-
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2 comments:
Sounds beautiful, but I can't figure out exactly what it means, and I don't want to embarrass myself by guessing wrong. Could you give me a hint?
I wanted something Solomonic, suggesting the abscence of novelty in action that results from human nature being as tarnished as it is. With sort of an A.E. Houseman meets Leonard Coen thing going on.
Glad you liked it.
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