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April 13, 2005
Helen
Helen, from The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe.
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here I will dwell, for heaven be in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sacked; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colors on my plumed crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appeared to hapless Semele; More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azured arms; And known but thou shalt be my paramour!
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Posted on April 13, 2005 11:33 AM by Love P74.
Filed in Love Poems under love poems.
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The last line should be "And none but thou shalt be my paramour!"
Posted by: Teresa at October 1, 2005 09:12 PM