Love And Death

…from the quills of dead white poets

Lord Byron (1788 – 1824)

I watched thee when the foe was at our side,

Ready to strike at him – or thee and me

Were safety hopeless – rather than divide

Aught with one loved save love and liberty.

 

I watched thee on the breakers where a rock

Received our prow and all was storm and fear,

And bade thee cling to me through every shock;

This arm would be thy bark, or breast thy bier.

 

I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes,

Yielding my couch and stretched me on the ground,

When overworn with watching ne’er to rise

From thence if thou and early grave hadst found.

 
The earthquake came, and rocked the quivering wall,

And men and nature reeled as if with wine.

Whom did I seek around the tottering hall?

For thee. Whose safety first prove for? Thine.

 

 

And when convulsive throes denied my breath

The faintest utterance to my fading thought,

To thee – to thee – e’en in the gasp of death

My spirit turned, oh! oftener than it ought.

 
Thus much and more; and yet thou lovs’t me not,

And never wilt! Love dwells not in our will

Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot

To strongly, wrongly, vainly love thee still.

About Paul Jacko

Jacko was born in Czechoslovakia not long before the communist putsch in February 1948. He studied industrial chemistry there and left in 1969 for Australia, where he became a lawyer and established his own practice. He has now retired and beside hunting, fishing, camping, prospecting and playing golf he amuses himself by writing.
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