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Poetry: On love

by Tenebris

Created on: June 30, 2008

What is love, but a mischievous game play'd
Hotly and with passion, for low estates
Among children, fam'lies, lovers, states,
Taking its substance among its stray'd
Proponents who, failing, rail at the fates
Unfailingly, to grant what their fruits deny;
Rash promises bind ever tighter the tie,
Plaiting a single coin of lust and hate.
O man! O woman! Leave this useless sigh
Solely to those who fear to test the grade;
Each child of man is given to look high
Howe'er, to climb, the stairs must first be laid.
Only look up! The sky remains the sky
Now secure your footing has one star stray'd?
O gray-eyed virgin, do you ever smile
Regarding how we mortals self beguile?

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