Lacking anything particularly appropriate for the opening or closing of the year, or for that matter anything to say on the subject that isn’t already covered by my poem “Commence with Honor” and my Thanksgiving essay, I’m just posting the next poem in my backlog.
Ah! how, after so many tears I’ve shed,
Your simple silent presence brings me peace.
Not joy yet, for you do not speak or smile,
But ’tis better than the melancholy
In whose grip I’ve moved for hours, days, on end
While you, my sunshine, from my skies were gone.
But here, now, a quicker passion moves me,
A rushing stage fright, boiling through my veins—
A fear of your rejection of my suit,
Which from today’s false dawn would bring full night,
Beyond the baseless fears of any stage.
For I’m a player, as the Bard once wrote;
For the first time within his ages now
I’ve found a part—though in my doleful songs
I’ve not yet reached your eyebrow for a theme
Because the rest of you’s so rich a store
That fitting words’re bounded only by worth,
Rather than by any dearth of topics.
I don’t remember when I wrote this, though it was most likely my freshman or sophomore year of college. The allusion in this poem is about as penetrable as I got in that phase, I suspect. In any case, I’ve also posted this on my wiki, and as always feedback of any kind, whether commendation, reply, critique, interrogative, or suggestion (especially of a real title or what to post next), or anything else, is eagerly requested and greatly appreciated.