THE COLONEL TO HIS LADY, WHEN ABSENT AT WAR
ABSENT from thee as salt from meat
Then ask me not, why seek I battle?
Thy choiceless lover must retreat
To wander ‘midst the cannons’ rattle
(Lucey if you think 32 pound shot rattles you whelk you need to stand a bit closer – H.)
Dear from thy board then let me fly
From all the pleasures of my home
From bread not stale, and mutton pie –
Thy absence I endure to roam.
Far from my love I find my duty
Midst maids more fair, or finely dressed
Yet fix’d is my idea of beauty
On thy comfortable breast
For H___, though your love is no poet (his bloody cornet is tho’, more’s the pity – H.)
Though flattered much, and tempted less,
He has, thank God, the wit to know it –
And the sense to love what he has, best,
Now that is sweet. Loved it!
The painting is beautiful. is that how you see Luce?
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Hmmm, you know, it almost is! Slightly fairer, in the flesh,
but the billowing poet-shirt and the intent expression is spot on.
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