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Poetry
Celtic Series: No sickness worse than love
15/16th century poem

No sickness worse than secret love
It's long, alas, since I pondered that
No more delay; I now confess
my secret love, so slight and slim

I gave a love that I can't conceal
to her hooded hair, her shy intent
her narrow brows, her blue-green eyes
her even teeth and aspect soft

I gave as well - and so declare-
my soul's love to her soft throat
her lovely voice, delicious lips
snowy bosom, pointed breast

And may not overlook, alas,
my cloud-hid love for her body bright
her trim straight foot, her slender sole,
her languid laugh, her timid hand

Allow there was never known before
such a love as mine for her
there lives not, never did, nor will,
one who more gravely stole my love

Do not torment me, lady
Let our purposes agree
You are my spouse on this Fair Plain
so let us embrace


True_Loves1stKiss
Community Member
  • [02/11/15 08:05pm]
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  • [06/12/10 09:28pm]




  • User Comments: [1]
    Shaky jakeward
    Community Member





    Thu Jul 16, 2015 @ 06:10pm


    biggrin nice poem biggrin your really talanted cool


    User Comments: [1]
     
     
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