We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
John Dryden
April
by Henry Allen
Good Friday, dogwood petals cruciform,
the windblown light, the rain that drifts like dust,
the naked river lit by thunderstorm,
the mud, the pollen. Still, you just can’t trust
it’s spring. Then April squalor comes your way,
the blessed chaos of a puberty
that brings deflowerings to bloom some day.
How sad, how glad, this springtime destiny.
You fall in love and everything is changed,
the very light itself, the taste of air,
the world’s a plot, your very own, deranged
but wildly true, at least while love is there.
To be in England, Paris … poets’ dreams …
while fallen petals flee down noisy streams.
Calm Was The Even (Excerpt from An Evening’s Love)
By John Dryden
Calm was the even, and clear was the sky,
And the new budding flowers did spring,
When all alone went Amyntas and I
To hear the sweet nightingale sing;
I sate, and he laid him down by me;
But scarcely his breath he could draw;
For when with a fear, he began to draw near,
He was dash’d with A ha ha ha ha!
He blush’d to himself, and lay still for a while,
And his modesty curb’d his desire;
But straight I convinc’d all his fear with a smile,
Which added new flames to his fire.
O Silvia, said he, you are cruel,
To keep your poor lover in awe;
Then once more he press’d with his hand to my breast,
But was dash’d with A ha ha ha ha!
I knew ’twas his passion that caus’d all his fear;
And therefore I pitied his case:
I whisper’d him softly, there’s nobody near,
And laid my cheek close to his face:
But as he grew bolder and bolder,
A shepherd came by us and saw;
And just as our bliss we began with a kiss,
He laugh’d out with A ha ha ha ha!
Fourteen Lines 