Hither.
Whence piled in wait my four-poster doth lean,
sans bed-mate, toward expectation
but limbs stoked with flame soon loseth heat.
Sighs yielding to latent chill this Lady needeth
a kind Cavalier, unsworded and ardent,
her favours to take wherein appetite easeth.
By Belial I wouldst rather lie hence on dry hay
in yon barn than castled in lonely stone
chamber so I prithee mine Sire do make haste.
Stride a steed and draw hither to what be fate
lest this feverish state begin to cool
and wither the bliss with a frigid ice-maiden ?
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Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: April 6th, 2019 03:21
- Comment from author about the poem: Hope you enjoy this fine Rembrandt sketch along with a bit of weekend whimsy.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
Offline)
Comments7
THANKS FAY : Lovely picture : Lovely poem ! I can empathise : I lie each night waiting for My Brian and hoping mr Ardour lasts till Easter ! He's going along the Eroded Coast next week : I hope & pray he doesn't stray too far to the EDGE ! Thanks for sharing
Blessings and a peaceful weekend : its nearly 10pm here
Love & Joy : ANGELA 🧡🧡🧡🧡
I'm currently reading 'Tess of The d'Urbervilles - (think I've spelt that right)and this reminds me so much of some of the scenes - it's a very naive story by today's standards but the English is so so good - pity there doesn't appear to be any modern writers up to Hardy's standards. Which brings me back to this - you should be writing books - your use of the language is par excellence!
Doh! Woof, woof, woof! Quiet Fido. Too much ardour, he says! heehee. I dunno if I'm hither or thither, or on foot or horse-back, with all this ardour!
Very well written piece, nice use of archaic language
Some know how - and like Michael said - you do.
Whimsy away Fay,
Whimsy away.
This is so fine.. nay tis grande and I feel so flirtesth with and verrily .. absolutely to die for...A great write as always, but just a little special methinks x
Thou thinkest correctly dear Sire on that term "special" and thy wordlings indeed lighten my morning as they vacillate merrily betwixt Olde English and Now-Speak - and verily mine Liege I be still a-smiling...............Yea it pleaseth me wholly that thou likest this ode to clandestine trysts and for which I proffer my utmost gratitude.......... x
The language of yore, holds much still for this pilgrim....great mysteries and more....
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