Spike (big_pile_o_dust) wrote in hellmouth_of_la,

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Ode to my Beloved!

"And therefore if to love can be desert,
I am not all unworthy. Cheeks as pale
As these you see, and trembling knees that fail
To bear the burden of a heavy heart, -
This weary minstrel-life that once was girt
To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail
To pipe now 'gainst the valley nightingale
A melancholy music,--why advert
To these things?"

I paused in my writing, wondering if it mattered whether or not one actually held a pen between one's fingers if the words, O the words, were spoke from the heart to the beloved! And my beloved had no inkling, none yet, of the truth of these words! O, that I might sit beside the lovely one and merely... gaze upon that face that captured this poor poet's heart!

Hmm... it is slightly late, however. Perhaps speaking the words aloud would not do me any good, especially if Mum was home waiting for me. Twas almost suppertime, after all. Words could wait...

O, but they could not!

I smiled again as I walked amongst the people oblivious to bulge swelling in my heart, and finished my words.

"O Angel, it is plain
I am not of thy worth nor for thy place!
And yet, because I love thee, I obtain
From that same love this vindicating grace
To live on still in love, and yet in vain, -
To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face."

I sighed happily, straightening my jacket and pushing the glasses higher up after they had slipped down slightly. "Excuse me, miss, but might you--?" How odd. The young lady gave a strange look and continued walking away.

I suppose after that party at Cecily's, I should be used to such things... but part of me still hopes.

"Sir, I--"

"Yes, so sorry to bother, but--"

This time, my sigh was of frustration. If no one would speak to me, however could I deliver my new poem to my love?

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