Valentine's Day Elegies

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
I began this December 1995, and have added to it as life happens.

Submitted: November 09, 2011

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Submitted: November 09, 2011



The Heart of the Poet declares what only Angels Dare to give Utterance. O Divine Love, All Love’s Excelling, Form within me Thy Gift: a Natural Principle emanate from Fountains Divine. The Enjoyment of the Soul continues in the Contemplation of the Beloved: May this Union carry on into other States of Existence. The first Poet of Love and Truth Declared—All Things Transitory are but Symbols reflect; All that was Lost, here it be Found: And all Mysterious, At last it is Known; Beyond Death and Hell, The Soul of Woman leads us Upward and On!


To be delivered on Valentine’s Day or Wedding Anniversary; and Sent by way of Sincerity. These Elegies express every Man’s Care and Love for the Women in his Life. Tho my Words be all Vain, I would show all Women their Worth. For in the Beginning was the Word; from the Thought came the Image and the Feeling; so the Seed was planted in the Soul: from God to Man, and Man to Woman, even to the Wife of his Youth—even Her whom he Clasped quickly to his Bosom.


To foretell the Future as tho it already were; to Herald the Millennial Dawn; to delight in New Romance and Truest Love—Romantic Love burns in Couples when once Embers near died, now Flame again. We rejoice in the Golden Age, in Arcadia, once lost but here Regained; to love in the Pastoral. Every Lover and Poet that cried for love Lost and broken Heart—Goethe and Gretchen, Burns and Jeanie, Byron and Haydee, Wentworth and Anne—now they wait no more with Breaths abated, but Rejoice in Loves fulfilled again.


The Artist may demonstrate his Passion by his Genius—who Sculpted the Venus de Milo, who Painted the Birth of Venus and Primavera, who Composed Sonatas Moonlight and Pathetique, or who Wrote of Wisdom Sophia—but is not Life more than Music, a Painting, a Sculpture, or a Poem? Surely in Life we learn only by these two Keys: thro Suffering, and Love. Suffering purifies Men’s Souls, and prepares them for Love. And from Whom is it better to Learn Love than from Women?


When the Tears coursed down my Face at Night, or my Heart was Overcome, I Meditated on Thee, Dear Friend, so soon depart. Once, one falsely Accused was sent to convict Labor. One frostbit Morn he thought Haply on his Wife, Feeling her Near; and in the Contemplation of her Image in his Mind his Burden was suddenly Aloft. And when Perchance I study Happily on my own Wife, are not my burdens also Lifted?


Daughters and young Girls have always been Tender Flowers to me, desirable to Gaze on and Protect. When I grew older, there came Women who loved me First, which Mine own could not Return; but my Worth is still measured by your Daring love to Share with me, losing Courageously. To Women I have loved, whose Love set Elsewhere: I thank you, for the Energy of my imagined Happiness compelled me to live a Better life, and to pursue my own Appointment with Love.


To my Mother I express my Child’s love, for my Spiritual Rebirth which later I so Labored to Achieve was Shadowed by your first giving Birth to me, by your own Labors. Mom, I can be Intimate and Caress others because since a Child I from your Hands was first Touched. Think not, Mother, that the Flower of your Womanhood has dried, but ever Composes my Manhood thro your Experience—and from you I Honor my Bloodlines.


To my Wife I express my love, Constant and True, whose Love overshadows me too—who I Foreknew before I Knew her; and when the wingéd Bird of Flight my Shoulder touched—I Foretold her Coming soon. Now I see her Greek and Romantic Face, her Tokens touched in Sacred Embrace. She Fills the Fountains of the Soul, and Waters My Well—She is Faith, Hope, and Charity. She guides me to the Mystery of Love—to the Golden Triangle, to the Proportion Divine: I, Thou and God.


Femininity is a State of Mind and Heart, never subject to Years. Man is Masculine because only a Young Girl’s ideal face moved him Once before. He responds when She sets the Tone and makes the Mood—Her Eyelash falls, her Lips part, she Sighs, her Hands move, and her Bosom swells. She still bears the Fruit and fruit’s Blossoms of Eve. And the Beauty of Women is the greatest Sign in Nature that God is. O the Miraculous Beauty of Women! But what makes Him more the Man is the Soul of Woman: Her Perfections of Beauty, and Perfectness of Peace and Grace—like a Mantle leads me to the Glory of Hope, and the Endurance of Love.


A Peculiar quality in Man is his Moral Agency, how great Feats are Achieved by Resolution. Before Bolivar crossed the Andes, Garibaldi marched across Italy, and Washington endured at Valley Forge, there was a young Girl Tendered and Forged in their Hearts. Before Independence was Liberty; before Fraternity, Equality; before Adams was Abigail, and before Jefferson, Martha. So the Revolution was in the Minds and Hearts of the People. For Her the Ideal they Mounted on the Imagination of Love as on Eagles’ Wings, and with Courage Undaunted. Love stirred the Feelings of Kings and Queens, Softened the Relations between Men and Women, and Soothed the Heart of the Fierce Warrior, and the Seeker of Great Knowledge.


In times past the Ideal Love was a Symbol—the Knight, the Bard and the Minstrel reminisced on a Woman they might never touch: Nausicaa, Eurydice, Dulcinea, Campaspe, Rosalind, Shakuntala, Erendira, La Fornarina, Aphrodite, Omphale, or the Virgin Mary; and by his Longing for Her did good Deeds. She was the Intimation Incarnate of a better Life. Life became the Dream made Symbol in the Image of Woman: the Gypsy girl; the Highland Lass; the Pastoral Maiden in the Field; Rachel by the Well; Ruth the Moabitess; Abigail’s Visitation with David; Heloise and Abelard; and Mercedes and Dantes. But later the Troubadour withdrew his Fantasies while Laying upon his Deathbed.


Like the Don, we all speak as to Sancho. “Ay my Friend, my Life has passed in Vain, and even Imagined Deeds have Withered and Feigned. But if only pretended Deeds of Passion were as Truthful as My Heart!” But now Friends Wiser and Patient we return those Tokens of Friendship. “Ah how True, but tho you lived in a World of Iron, your mind was Garnished still with Virtue (that is Moral Excellence), my Friend. Know Quixote your own Life is well lived, and the Seeds of Love Fulfilled.” And then his Circle of life Redounded in Love when he Reposed at last.


This very thing Everyman Hopes in Knowing his own Nothingness, Wishing his Dear Wife or Sweet Lover condemns not his Best Intents that came to Naught…So by Mercy, Hope and Grace are we Justified. Even so was Dante, who graced to Paradise only with Beatrice beside. She held the Missing Key. For in her is the Unerring Index of the Soul thro the Secret Promptings of the Heart. Only by Woman is Man’s Soul Reborn, the Spirit Messenger in the Vision Quest. Woman is Glory! We count to the Perfection of Ten thro Seven Mystic Veils. And even across the Veil she guides me to the Tree of Life, and to Gardens Paradisial—to Taste the Fruit and the Still Waters beside.


In the Anguish of my Soul I laid my Beloved in the Grave. O the Agony! My Kingdom was rent; I fled the Enemy of my soul. Yet in the last night Watch, in a Vision, as thro a Glass her Image came and Locked me in Sacred Embrace. For precious Moments she lay with me, Breathing and Hearts Beating as One; then She left. I would go thro Endless Cycles of Life and Death to be with Her again. These shall be my thoughts of You when we Meet—I want you when I quiet! And I want you when I stay! And when unashamed I Gaze! Like Orpheus’ myth and the Origin of the Soul, When You departed you made me lack my Whole; I was only one Half of my Soul’s other Soul!


Whence came we? Wherefore? Where to from here? What of the Mystic Pledge and Prenuptial Vow, Shattered by Time and Chance before the Bridal Chamber? What becomes when Two men love One woman, or when a man is Beloved by More than one Woman? What of One where is no Other, or when the First was Lost? Thousands of Millions would Encircle the Globe on Bended Knee for True Love. O to Love and be Loved! Compensate us God for what we Lack! Shake the Superflux and show the Heavens more Just! Make Beauty Plain, and Plain Women Adorned with Beauty! For Beauty Resides in the Sound of Her Voice, and the Light in her Eyes—Three Windows to the Soul.


The Heart of the King is Inscrutable, and is His Own Interpreter. He searches over a Dark Matter, and Brings it to the Light. It is Glorious in his Eyes. What was Lost shall be Restored. What shall be is Greater than we Know. There are no words to describe; there is no other—an Atonement Infinite and Perfect is made ’tween God and Man, and the King to his Queen. Woman shall Rise in the Resurrection, like Crouching Venus from a Scalloped Seashell; in Embodied Enjoyment, Majestic and Nude; Enrobed in the Robes of Righteousness; Going on to Eternal Increase and Celestial Burnings.


Have we now come full Circle? Grace Eternal justified our Works, which Sprang from Resolution. Resolution came from the Burden of Love. Pray tell, what is the Object of our Love and Determination?—Why, from our First Love, even from a Woman, and none else! Then say, of what Manner of Love is a Woman our best Ideal? Ay, Romantic Love, for now and for all Eternity! From this Springs all Loves beside which are the Smallest Portion thereof. And even when All we’ve Given is our all to God, still He gives us this Love last of All.


For the Mystery of Love and Marriage is the Greatest in the Universe, touching even the Most High. And for that Man who Wills to follow Love Truth will require of him great Sacrifice. Whoso not willing to put his All on the Altar of Tribulations, for God, cannot Retain the Love of his Lover in the Endless Eternities that Follow. For He Only who has sacrificed All can Possess the Principle of Perfect Love distilled in his Breast from Divine Sources. And the Kelson of the Creation is Love; the Last and the Greatest, from the Foundation to the Crown, unto the Scepter of Power: the One, the All.


Therefore, O Woman, or Women that hear these Poor words Mine, whose Womanly Bodies renew by Moon’s Revolutions, more nearer to Nature and Nature’s God, filled also with God’s Fruit: Be you never filled Over much with Sorrow, but know you’re Counted and Wanted. Your Worth is beyond Measure, more deeply Cherished, still more than Life or any Man can say: So to my Wife, and to Women Friends together we say—in different Manners, different Ways—whom we Love each and all, and all with all our Hearts!

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