Sep 2018
"MY LOVE IS AS A FEVER..."
All that long hot summer through
I shared a summer cold with you
that seemed to last forever.
Whether, sharing the same germs, dreams,
bacteria or whatever
it seemed to bind us so...very close together.
If this was love...it couldn't get no better.
And all my heart
could say
even to this day...is:
'Bless you...bless you...bless you.'
All that long hot summer through
I shared a summer cold with you
that seemed to last forever.
Whether, sharing the same germs, dreams,
bacteria or whatever
it seemed to bind us so...very close together.
If this was love...it couldn't get no better.
And all my heart
could say
even to this day...is:
'Bless you...bless you...bless you.'
Sonnet 147: My love is as a fever, longing still
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed:
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed:
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
