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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.
Permalink permalink | Comments (1)

Comments

The last line should be "And none but thou shalt be my paramour!"

Posted by: Teresa at October 1, 2005 09:12 PM

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