Today’s update is a series of polls, for Valentine’s Day. It was suggested by Justin Stone. It’s superficial yet deep; matter-of-fact, yet eccentric. You know, like love.
Re, the previous here is a little mid-poll poem, by William Blake.
“Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell’s despair.”
So sung a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle’s feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:
“Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another’s loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven’s despite.
Here is another mid-poll poem, by Leigh Hunt:
Jenny kiss’d me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in.
Time, you thief! who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in.
Say I’m weary, say I’m sad;
Say that health and wealth have missed me;
Say I’m growing old, but add-
Jenny kiss’d me!