GoR Zine 1.003

zine 1.003 2025-10-03

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Lilac Love

n a ce t s i s e r

Robert Burns "O Were my Love yon Lilac Fair" O, were my love yon lilac fair With purple blossoms to the spring, And I a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing, How I would mourn when it was torn

By Autumn wild and Winter rude!

But I would sing on wanton wing, When youthful May its bloom renewed.

O, if my love were yonder red rose, That grows upon the castle wall, And I myself a drop of dew Into her lovely breast to fall, O, there, beyond expression blessed, I would feast on beauty all the night, Sealed on her silk-soft folds to rest, Till scared away by Phoebus’ light!

Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Tennyson’s Ulysses

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