A Posy of Love Poems

4TH CENTURY B.C.

How beautiful, my wellbeloved, is your body of granite—

It smites my eyes like an army with banners.

Your lips are the red wine poured from goatskin bags,

Your brows are warriors' full-drawn bows,

Your glances the arrows they shoot therefrom,

And your hair is the mane of a lion, tawny and thick.

17TH CENTURY

Let us not love tonight past mind

But stifle our intent

Lest blazing passion, unconfined,

Provoke imperilment.

Against the dark, our fierce desire

Would flare too bright for sight,

So must we tame our blinding fire

And bank it for the night.

With luminating dawn's return

And appetite's increase

Our lusty flame can safely burn

In furious release.

18TH CENTURY

Since even modest airs and prudish dress

May not deter rash beaux from wantonness,

Can your unsullied innocence o'ervault

Concupiscent intention to assault?

My sweet, have no misgivings, for you wear

So plainly insurmountable an air

That ogling lechers, hunting am'rous game,

Will blush, apologize, and flee in shame.

19TH CENTURY

Ethereal nightingale, gallantly singing

Your heart out in rich melodies

To insentient stones, earless trees,

And indifferent insects, forsake them! Go winging

To town like a dart to the mark, I implore you,

And, serving as courier bird,

Tell her who is waiting this word:

"I'm locked in my room and can't come but adore you."