Phoenix
by Dale J. Sprague
Variations of Shakespeare
Love's Labor's Lost
Earthly souls given for fame and fortune live registered only upon brazen tombs, and having been graced by the degradation of death and drained by ravenous devouring time, the endeavor of this present streaming may gain that atonement which makes dull, death's keen edge, and makes us overlords of time. Therefore, brave venturers of mind, you are that fire against your own dark desires in a world, a slave to its own promiscuous vanity
Resist for a moment worldly pleasures and become still and contemplative beyond them..for the grosser manner of the world's delights makes us all baser slaves to pleasure's cost. To lust..to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die, living within rigid walls of some non plus ultra philosophy...living with dull senses..living barely aware of life
All pleasures are vain! But that most vain which, with pain is purchased, does inherit only pain...as to painfully pour over a book, to seek the light of some theory, while theory the while can so treacherously blind what the eyes plainly see..for the world's incumbency does make vain light seek itself, and calling itself, light of light..itself it beguiles. So, unless one finds where light in darkness lies, light grows dark by the loss of one's eyes
To please my eye, show me how to look through a fairer eye, for that brighter eye will dazzle revealing after theory what follows, like any other thing with shadows. Study would be like heaven's glorious sun that disallows itself to be deep'searched with saucy looks
Small have book parrots ever won except the shine of other books casting onto them. Like the ancient earthly gazers of heaven's lights who give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit from their shining night than others who walk the Earth and know not what they are. Thus, it is said, "Knowing too much of another's work is to know naught but to give report"...and every stargazer can give a name
If ventures of seeking truth are met with smug faces, it is only because those faces refuse to change. If the quest for truth is met with shining faces from the prospect of finding gold, it is only because those faces do not know how quickly they will be changed...for once truth is perceived, there is lethal light for sure..a brighter light for what originally shined will overshine
Like love is truth, and I, in truth, in love! I, love's sting, and the very law keeper to a humorous sigh. A critic...never. A simple night watcher am I for this domineering tutor to passion's pride, this blind all'seeing fickle entity, this senior'junior, giant'dwarf Lord Cupid..regent of love rhymes, Lord of dark tossing dreams, the anointed sovereign of heart sighs and soul pain..Lord of all waywards and malcontents..dread prince of hussies, King of oakleafs, sole imperator and great general of stiff trotting officers in uniforms of common morality..for the sake of my little heart!..and I!..to be a corporeal of this General, hopelessly strutting like an exposed peacock
What? I love? I court? I seek a wife? A woman that is like a German clock, still a'repairing, ever out of order, and never going a'right, but being watched that it may still go right! Nay!! This resignation is worst of all
Or to love the worst of all..a pale wantonness with velvet skin and two dark voids for eyes..or one who would perform the act of love though a thousand'eyes be her vanguard..to sigh for her, to watch over her..to pray for her
Nay..softly, I say nay, for it is a plague to the soul that Cupid would impose for my neglect of his almighty dreadful little might
Well...I will love, write, sigh, pray, court, and groan, for I nevertheless must love the hopeless complication of a lady, the simple peace of a rustic woman
If I am compelled to make oaths within the shadows of love, how shall I swear to love in the light? So it is, that the darkness of faith could never stay if it were not vowed to Beauty. Thus, bound to love am I, to beauty inspired, to love and be filled, to love until death of desire
Though the most stalwart aspects of my conscience seem to you to be no more than river willows bent by gentle currents, I have, for love of life, set aside my favorite study themes..for my study, my discipline, my thought, my dreams are now of your eyes and the aura of your heart. My study is your truth. My study now is where those pleasures and woes live that art would comprehend. If knowledge be the end, to know the love you inspire shall suffice..for well learned is the mind that speaks from love. Aye..even your tongue when anger bent, is but music and sweet fire to my mind...Dear Beauty, please forgive my darkness while I seek your praise
While so much life chases other life, I chase myself. While so much of life waits in the dark for their spoil, I toil in the dark..a darkness that defiles. Defile...a foul word!! "Well..set thee down, sorrow," for so it is said, the fool said, and so say I, the fool
Well proved, Wit! By the Lord of Love, this love is like a mad god..it kills sheep..it kills dreams..dreams kill me..I, but a ghost ridden passageway in the night...well proved again!..o'crowned judgment of my wit
I will not love! If I do, I invite only the death of me. There must be a better fate, a better faith
O, but her eye!..and enchanting aura. By its light do I see her eyes clearly..if it was but for her eyes, I would not love
Well..I have been no more than a fly cast into the wind..fleeting, skirting upon the surface of my deep, knowing only what proceeded from the mind of throat, I begin in this darkness, the darkness of love's womb
By heaven..I do love! And it has taught me to rhyme and to be melancholy. "Well..my love reads my poetry..a clown bore it..a fool sent it..the lady comprehends it..sweet sad clown, sweeter fool!..sweetest lady"
For love of life, my time has slowed, for these words have flowed from the wakes of my dying world..."So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not to the fresh morning drops upon the rose, as your fresh aura gives to the night of me..nor shines the radiant moon half so bright through the transparent bosom of my deep, as does your face through the tears of my mind giving light. You shine in every tear that I do weep..sad happy tears, silent cry, these waters pour from my mind, yet, make fertile, the ground you hold." How shall you know my grief? No matter, for my mind in living but brief, sheds itself until I have been sowed, and you shall behold the life, beholding the silent of me, what grows upon the ground you hold
Lord Cupid, whose month is forever May, espied a blossom passing fair, playing in the wanton air. And Lord Cupid knows that through the velvet leaves of green, the wind all unseen, readily finds its passageway, as the lover does, sickened to near death, and so speaks with heaven's breath..."Sweet spirits of youth", says he, "I must forsake the death, for the life of me..for my hand is sworn, never to pluck what Lord Cupid has chosen from stems of thorn
Sweet spirits of youth I cannot meet, for they are so apt to pluck a sweet! O, I cannot help but feel sinned against me...but nay!! Lord Cupid holds the deep of me. Sweet spirits, unseen of the heaven above, reborn am I, turning mortal for love"
And so it is, that love inspired lives not imprisoned in mind, but with the force that makes all the universe and time..that beauty inspired by love courses as swift as thought in every natural power, giving to every power, a double power. It adds precious visions to the eye, for a lover's gaze would blind an eagle, or a lover's ear will dwell long upon the faintest sound. This Beauty makes feelings more soft and sensible, and the tongue more sharp and indelible. For valor, Love gives strength of soul..yet, subtle and sweet, Love speaks in melody, making heaven drowsy with harmony. And it has been said, "A poet who is wise, never employs the pen until after Love has tempered the ink with Love's sighs"
Love! It makes fools of us all! Who has entered love, must love the fool..for in love, we loose oaths to ourselves. In love, we are reborn..with oaths to love