Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LOVE MADE IN THE FIRST AGE, by RICHARD LOVELACE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: In the nativity of time Last Line: Enjoying of myself I lie. Subject(s): Love | ||||||||
In the nativity of time, Chloris, it was not thought a crime In direct Hebrew for to woo. Now we make love as all on fire, Ring retrograde our loud desire, And court in English, backward, too. Thrice happy was that golden age, When compliment was construed rage, And fine words in the centre hid; When cursed No stained no maid's bliss, And all discourse was summed in Yes, And nought forbad, but to forbid. Love, then unstinted, Love did sip, And cherries plucked fresh from the lip; On cheeks and roses free he fed; Lasses like autumn plums did drop, And lads indifferently did crop A flower and a maidenhead. Then unconfined each did tipple Wine from the bunch, milk from the nipple; Paps tractable as udders were; Then equally the wholesome jellies Were squeezed from olive-trees and bellies, Nor suits of trespass did they fear. A fragrant bank of strawberries, Diapered with violets' eyes, Was table, tablecloth, and fare; No palace to the clouds did swell: Each humble princess then did dwell In the piazza of her hair. Both broken faith and th' cause of it, All-damning gold, was damned to th' Pit; Their troth, sealed with a clasp and kiss, Lasted until that extreme day In which they smiled their souls away, And in each other breathed new bliss. Because no fault, there was no tear; No groan did grate the granting ear, No false foul breath their del'cate smell; No serpent kiss poisoned the taste; Each touch was naturally chaste, And their mere sense a miracle. Naked as their own innocence, And unembroidered from offence They went, above poor riches gay; On softer than the cygnet's down In beds they tumbled of their own, For each within the other lay. Thus did they live, thus did they love, Repeating only joys above; And angels were, but with clothes on, Which they would put off cheerfully, To bathe them in the Galaxy, Then gird them with the heavenly zone. Now, Chloris! miserably crave The offered bliss you would not have, Which evermore I must deny; Whilst ravished with these noble dreams, And crowned with mine own soft beams Enjoying of myself I lie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INVENTION OF LOVE by MATTHEA HARVEY TWO VIEWS OF BUSON by ROBERT HASS A LOVE FOR FOUR VOICES: HOMAGE TO FRANZ JOSEPH HAYDN by ANTHONY HECHT AN OFFERING FOR PATRICIA by ANTHONY HECHT LATE AFTERNOON: THE ONSLAUGHT OF LOVE by ANTHONY HECHT A SWEETENING ALL AROUND ME AS IT FALLS by JANE HIRSHFIELD GRATIANA DANCING AND SINGING by RICHARD LOVELACE LA BELLA BONA ROBA by RICHARD LOVELACE THE GRASSHOPPER; TO MY NOBLE FRIEND MR. CHARLES COTTON by RICHARD LOVELACE |
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