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All I See Is You: Poems and Proses on Motherhood (Jessica Urlichs: Early Motherhood Poetry & Prose Collection Book 2)

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This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, Which, like a falcon towering in the skies, Coucheth the fowl below with his wings' shade, Whose crooked beak threats if he mount he dies: So under his insulting falchion lies Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon's bells. His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly; Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye; And to the flame thus speaks advisedly, 'As from this cold flint I enforced this fire, So Lucrece must I force to my desire. There was no noise except for hunting cries of owls and wolves, since it was the time of night for them to catch silly lambs .

Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside; But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing, Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting. Even in this thought through the dark night he stealeth, A captive victor that hath lost in gain; Bearing away the wound that nothing healeth, The scar that will, despite of cure, remain; Leaving his spoil perplex'd in greater pain.And therein heartens up his servile powers, Who, flatter'd by their leader's jocund show, Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours; And as their captain, so their pride doth grow, Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. This deed will make thee only loved for fear; But happy monarchs still are fear'd for love: With foul offenders thou perforce must bear, When they in thee the like offences prove: If but for fear of this, thy will remove; For princes are the glass, the school, the book, Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look. Their silent war of lilies and of roses, Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field, In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses; Where, lest between them both it should be kill'd, The coward captive vanquished doth yield To those two armies that would let him go, Rather than triumph in so false a foe. Even after I die, the scandal will live on, and will continue to ruin my otherwise perfect reputation.

Maybe he was so jealous of Collatine's valuable possession—Lucrece—that he'd do anything to compete, and the thought of it took over his mind. True valour still a true respect should have; Then my digression is so vile, so base, That it will live engraven in my face.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. It was like when the hour hand on a clock is a few seconds slow— in a single hour, those seconds don't matter, but after a few hours the clock is minutes behind. So that in venturing ill we leave to be The things we are for that which we expect; And this ambitious foul infirmity, In having much, torments us with defect Of that we have: so then we do neglect The thing we have; and, all for want of wit, Make something nothing by augmenting it. No matter how old and past our prime we get, impulsive desires can still overtake us like they do young men! He was marked by a cut that would never heal, a scar that would stay with him despite attempts to cure it.

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