by Christopher Marlowe
This poem appears to be a distant ancestor of all those horror films where teen couples die horribly as a consequence of sneaking off to have illicit pre-marital sex. Our cultural obsession with virginity as a symbol of moral purity and an only marginally more subtle form of Patriarchal reduction of...
Absolutely beautiful. The while upon a hillock down he lay And sweetly on his pipe began to play, And with smooth speech her fancy to assay, Till in his twining arms he locked her fast And then he wooed with kisses; and at last, As shepherds do, her on the ground he laid And, tumbling in the grass, ...
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A great poem, which should be read more than once. It's beautifully written, it's full of passion and it's extraordinarily lovable.
I have to admit that I remember very little about this one other than I read it for a Renaissance poetry class. Maybe I'll reread it at aime point.
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