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Either give into my love or prepare yourself, because instead of caressing you lovingly and gently, I'll forcefully tear you up. I was then given this collection as a gift from my mother-in-law without her prior knowledge of how incredibly invaluable the title poem had been at aiding me through such a difficult time in my journey as a new mother. So from himself impiety hath wrought, That for his prey to pray he doth begin, As if the heavens should countenance his sin. How could he put up with this threat to his marriage, this dark mark on his youth, this heartbreak in spite of his wisdom? Tarquin could see this silent battle between white and red going on in the delicate skin of her face.
His eyes and his heart together were like the lowest soldiers who fight with each other at the end of a war, stealing everything they can, enjoying murdering and raping without caring at all about children's tears or mothers' groans. Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss; Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder, Swelling on either side to want his bliss; Between whose hills her head entombed is: Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies, To be admired of lewd unhallow'd eyes.I was deep in the throes of motherhood and it all felt like a wave I couldn’t breach the surface of. And, if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done As is the morning's silver-melting dew Against the golden splendor of the sun!
Getting angry with himself, he started to hate his naked body and his desire, which was (as of yet) still in control. Just like a well-fed dog or a stuffed hawk—unable to smell well or fly quickly— will pursue their desired prey lazily or even reject it entirely, Tarquin took more than his fill that night. But she, that never coped with stranger eyes, Could pick no meaning from their parling looks, Nor read the subtle-shining secrecies Writ in the glassy margents of such books: She touch'd no unknown baits, nor fear'd no hooks; Nor could she moralize his wanton sight, More than his eyes were open'd to the light. Quoth he, 'She took me kindly by the hand, And gazed for tidings in my eager eyes, Fearing some hard news from the warlike band, Where her beloved Collatinus lies. He found it hard to keep his gazed fixed on him because Collatine was so good and Tarquin himself was betraying him.
They arrived, her father accompanied by Junius Brutus and her husband accompanied by Publius Valerius. He was waiting until pitch-black night fell—the time of fear and dread when the world goes dark and day is locked away. After making them swear they would take revenge, she revealed the offender and the complete circumstances of his crime. I was roughly four months postpartum when I found the title poem ‘All I See Is You’ and it was gut-wrenching, poignant, I could barely read the words out loud.
She says, her subjects with foul insurrection Have batter'd down her consecrated wall, And by their mortal fault brought in subjection Her immortality, and made her thrall To living death and pain perpetual: Which in her prescience she controlled still, But her foresight could not forestall their will. Thy princely office how canst thou fulfil, When, pattern'd by thy fault, foul sin may say, He learn'd to sin, and thou didst teach the way? But her situation was worse: when she woke up, she saw something that confirmed her nightmare was real.
My daughter is 5 weeks old and already I’m realising that nobody really talks about the not-so-fun parts of motherhood. But some untimely thought did instigate His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those: His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state, Neglected all, with swift intent he goes To quench the coal which in his liver glows. After that, I intend to take your body to the some low-level servant's bed, to make him share your sad fate. So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave; Thou nobly base, they basely dignified; Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave: Thou loathed in their shame, they in thy pride: The lesser thing should not the greater hide; The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot, But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root. No matter how old and past our prime we get, impulsive desires can still overtake us like they do young men!
by him that gave it thee, From a pure heart command thy rebel will: Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity, For it was lent thee all that brood to kill. Tarquin was the latter, lying awake revolving in his head the dangers involved in getting what he wanted.
Collatine's bragging about Lucrece's perfection was probably what enticed Tarquin, the son of a king. They'll change my family's coat of arms to represent how hard I fell in love, so that my children will have to bear the shame. He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence; She like a wearied lamb lies panting there; He scowls and hates himself for his offence; She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear; He faintly flies, sneaking with guilty fear; She stays, exclaiming on the direful night; He runs, and chides his vanish'd, loathed delight.
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