Inspired by the Uneaten Cake
(and a little help from Byron's title).And Thou art Dread, as Young and Cute after "And Thou art Dead, as Young and Fair"
And thou art dread, as young and cute
To those who think thee dead,
Yet none would dare thy charms dispute,
As with all drawn by Fred;
"Is she human, or a demon?"
Has the M.T. forums steamin',
Tit for tat, thread to thread --
Whichever thou shall prove to be,
Was, is, and shall be, loved by me.
I have my doubts: I'll say thou mak'st
A most peculiar date;
Thou, from the choicest morsels tak'st
Thy hunger for to sate.
And soon thou glow'st with energy,
Although thy foolish morsels be
Untouch'd upon thy plate --
When I, such transformation see,
Thou scar'st the livin' crap from me.
I shall not ask from whence thou came,
Nor of thy span of years;
Thy beauty, by black ribbons fram'd
Sets thee beyond all peers;
Thou look'st the flow'r of innocence
(Despite a faint malevolence),
And thus doth calm my fears --
A riddle wrapped in mystery,
Yet such is Love (at least, for me).
Thy distant smile, when it doth bloom,
It is a curious thing:
'Twill not illuminate the room
Like that from thy friend Ping;
Like Mona Lisa's little grin
It hides more feelings deep within
Than to the surface brings --
All this, and more, see I in thee,
And mak'st thee more beloved by me.
Thou lookest young, yet seemest wise
Beyond thy youthful years;
Such wisdom great expense implies
In blood and sweat and tears.
My Love shall never ask the price
To pay in virtue or in vice,
In full, or in arrears --
Yea, even vice is nice with thee,
Begg'd, borrow'd, stolen, all by me!
On how the course of love might run,
I cannot bear to guess;
Lo, something new beneath the sun
Might be this love's progress:
A normal span of life with thee,
Or life-in-death, eternally?
But I could not care less --
I'm in too deep to want to flee,
Be thou the life -- or death -- of me.
(Apologies to George Gordon, Lord Byron)And Thou art Dead, as Young and Fair
And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth;
And form so soft, and charms so rare,
Too soon return'd to Earth!
Though Earth receiv'd them in her bed,
And o'er the spot the crowd may tread
In carelessness or mirth,
There is an eye which could not brook
A moment on that grave to look.
I will not ask where thou liest low,
Nor gaze upon the spot;
There flowers or weeds at will may grow,
So I behold them not:
It is enough for me to prove
That what I lov'd, and long must love,
Like common earth can rot;
To me there needs no stone to tell,
'T is Nothing that I lov'd so well.
Yet did I love thee to the last
As fervently as thou,
Who didst not change through all the past,
And canst not alter now.
The love where Death has set his seal,
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
Nor falsehood disavow:
And, what were worse, thou canst not see
Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.
The better days of life were ours;
The worst can be but mine:
The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,
Shall never more be thine.
The silence of that dreamless sleep
I envy now too much to weep;
Nor need I to repine
That all those charms have pass'd away,
I might have watch'd through long decay.
The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
Must fall the earliest prey;
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd,
The leaves must drop away:
And yet it were a greater grief
To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,
Than see it pluck'd to-day;
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair.
I know not if I could have borne
To see thy beauties fade;
The night that follow'd such a morn
Had worn a deeper shade:
Thy day without a cloud hath pass'd,
And thou wert lovely to the last,
Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
As stars that shoot along the sky
Shine brightest as they fall from high.
As once I wept, if I could weep,
My tears might well be shed,
To think I was not near to keep
One vigil o'er thy bed;
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
To fold thee in a faint embrace,
Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee!
The all of thine that cannot die
Through dark and dread Eternity
Returns again to me,
And more thy buried love endears
Than aught except its living years.