You’re not one of my favorite poets. Too fraught, too crazy, too “Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know.” as one of your lovers described you and as I’ve written about elsewhere.
I’ve never really gone for that sort of thing myself. More interested in the thought that “I can be myself with you,” than that which describes some sort of lunatical and extra-reality extravagance; that which you seem to specialize in.
Still, you–whoever you are–do you. K?
IMHO, one of your most lasting contributions to Western Civilization has been that in the person of your daughter, Ada, the Countess Lovelace, someone who really mattered.
A woman, in case you hadn’t noticed.
Otherwise: When We Two Parted. Ouch (no music required):
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well—
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?—
With silence and tears.
I might have been pleased to encounter you, a couple hundred years ago. But Lord, I think I’d have kicked your ass. A diet of vinegar biscuits? No thank you.
Really. What a narcissist twit. LOL
Rest in Peace.
