Sitting in Michael's Lap
How Do I Love Thee?
(with apologies to E. B. B.)
Shall I approach thee gently, with reserve,
Impeccably and truly nonchalant?
Should such neglect, in seeming, rightly serve
To pique the sense of need, or stir the want?
Or shall I sweep thee up in passion’s fire,
Unwavering, ignoring all protest?
Might such a flood, a drowning by desire,
Decide the shore whereon thine heart shall rest?
Shall I expose this soul, so firmly masked,
So long unseen, the vision strikes me strange?
Shall trembling lips relay what heart hath asked,
“How do I love thee?” What should hope to change
By musing thus? In answer comes the call,
Its timbre proud: “I’ll love thee not at all.”
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange...
--William Shakespeare, from The Tempest
[This message has been edited by Skyfyre (edited 05-22-2000).]