poetry

I love poetry. No, really. Check this one out:

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly today,
Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy-gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear;
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose.

-Thomas Moore

And this one, its a classic!

Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

- William Shakespeare

Here's a late-night attempt of my own:

[Several attempts have been edited out this morning which had the potential to be quite embarrasing, and on the strength of which I really should have been in bed asleep long before I wrote them. Sorry to rob you of the juiciness. --Iain]

Wait.
Don't hurry yourself,
Be patient through this life,
For nothing worth receiving,
Will pass by fast as light.

Stop.
Think it over some,
And make sure that it's right,
For if its not, a moment's joy
Will not be worth the strife.

Go.
Get to bed now Iain,
And rest your weary brain,
For surely nothing's switched on right;
You're sprouting crap again.

- Iain