I've been writing poetry for British Literature class, and just for the fun of it, I thought I'd post the various stages of its being. This is the one I turned into class this morning and received everybody's comments on.
Ianthe to Landor
Perhaps we’ve set a faithful love aglow.
Perhaps your poems remember all my best,
My youth and beauty, that I’m summer-blessed.
Perhaps you even have great talent so
All nations read your stellar words beyond
Your grave. It isn’t good enough. What thrill
Does mortal verse bring me? It someday will
Be nothing, lost, when sun and stone pass on.
Annihilation does not wait for me.
When he’s chased you the way Atlantis went
(You time-drowned man), I’ll live because I’ve asked
Eternity for immortality.
The day galactic north goes south, a mint
Of love and memory is mine—untaxed.
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