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Thanks to a residency at EcoHealth, my verse these days finds inspiration in the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at LMU M√ľnchen, where I tutor composition and edit a poetry weekly, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach at MVHS and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.


Song of Venus

from King Arthur

by John Dryden


Fairest Isle, all Isles Excelling,
Seat of Pleasures, and of Loves;
Venus here will chuse her Dwelling,
And forsake her Cyprian Groves.


Cupid, from his Fav'rite Nation,
Care and Envy will Remove;
Jealousy that poysons Passion,
And Despair that dies for Love.


Gentle murmurs, sweet Complaining,
Sighs that blow the Fire of Love;
Soft Repulses, kind Disdaining,
Shall be all the Pains you prove.


Ev'ry Swain shall pay his Duty,
Grateful ev'ry Nymph shall prove;
And as these Excel in Beauty,
Those shall be Renown'd for Love.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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