“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Saturday, February 7, 2015
The value of depreciation
Deny that we are better whole
For love is loss! Sacrifice is loss!
All the giving takes its' toll,
gambling on return, a coin of toss.
Tho' loves worth the investment-
it does yield a return.
Albeit, a candied sentiment
made of sweet words we learn.
O how do we know its true,
Not counterfeit in kind?
All love that 'tis shiny and new
in growing time goes blind.
For spotting true love there are no glasses,
But lo when you're not e'en looking, that love surely passes!
Image Published by D. McKay, Philadelphia (http://archive.org/details/talesfromshakesp00lamb3) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. "Tales from Shakespeare" by Charles and Mary Lamb, 1922.
*Inspired by Shakespeare, 1564-1616 (who isn't?) "Sonnet 116"
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