Thursday, 18 February 2010
The Thursday Poem
My Love Is Like to Ice
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
Nut harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, which is congealed with senseless cold,
Should kindly fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kind.
(c. 1552 - 16th January 1599)
From the book: Poem for the Day One