romance

A Valentine

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For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines! – they hold a treasure
Divine- a talisman- an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words- the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet’s, too,
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-
Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.

 

– Edgar Allan Poe

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Romance

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Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been- a most familiar bird-
Taught me my alphabet to say-
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child- with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky.
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings-
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away- forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings

 

– Edgar Allan Poe

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Autumn Romance

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Hand in hand they wandered
north-eastward across the vales
during the beautiful autumn time
in England’s Yorkshire Dales.

The sun shone over the valleys
nature was never so fair,
on the day he wooed the one he loved,
the girl with the flaxen hair.

The depth of his soul was captured
by a softness, pure as the snow.
His young life he would surrender
because he adored her so.

Voices echoed from a village church
and as he knelt before his love…
he could hear Mendelssohn’s melody:
‘O For the Wings of a Dove’.

Who else within the whole wide world
could feel such ecstasy rare?
At a time when fairy-tales came true,
they both vowed their lives to share.

 

– Joyce Hemsley

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17th June – On This Day In History

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Born:

1943 Barry Manilow (singer)

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Died:

2012 Rodney King (victim of police violence)

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On This Day:

1944 Iceland declares independence (from Denmark)

ic

 

Have a good Sunday, 17th June

www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk

Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts

Romance

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Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been- a most familiar bird-
Taught me my alphabet to say-
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child- with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky.
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings-
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away- forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.

 

– Edgar Allan Poe

www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk

Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts

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