Myself, as other people see me:

[azurelunatic]

"You continue to remind me that unrequited love is NOT necessarily dumb or boring, and is sometimes a valuable lifestyle option from an internal point of view . . ."

In Lit class on Thursday, a poem was pointed out to me, one that I'd heard of before, and heard quotations from, but ... never had read the whole thing. I savoured the reading.

Andrew Marvell, "To His Coy Mistress"

          Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
          But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave 's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
          Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

I especially adore the first third, the description of the courtship as it should progress, "vaster than empires, and more slow". I feel the words of this on my skin.

Of him, of course, I adore his mind the most, and I should spend an age each on his wit, his honor, his intelligence, his kindness, his loyalty ... even his elusive love. If I don't have it as a woman, I surely have it as a friend.