Friday, July 8, 2011

Song From Amphitryon

      FAIR Iris I love, and hourly I die,
      But not for a lip, nor a languishing eye:
      She's fickle and false, and there we agree,
      For I am as false and as fickle as she.
      We neither believe what either can say;
      And, neither believing, we neither betray.
      'Tis civil to swear, and say things of course;
      We mean not the taking for better or worse.
      When present, we love; when absent, agree:
      I think not of Iris, nor Iris of me.
      The legend of love no couple can find,
      So easy to part, or so equally join'd. 
      John Dryden

      photo Sculpture by the Sea June 2011: grethe bachmann


Teresa Evangeline said...

That's an interesting look at "love." Relationships are so much easier when viewed this way. :)

Thyra said...

Yes, He's special! I remember a Dryden-line "There is a pleasure sure in being mad which none but madmen know......." So I was prepared for something else from him. Someone could write a poem like this today.