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

1631-1700




photo Sculpture by the Sea June 2011: grethe bachmann