Here's an essay we read and talked about in class. Read it!:

To His Coy Mistress (1681)
By Andrew Marvel
Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Should'st rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and thy forehead gaze,
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest.
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near,
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor in thy marble vault shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honor turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our times devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness uo into one ball
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

OK, and then read this spoof of the original poem. It's pretty funny. But you would have to kinda understand the original poem to understand the spoof. Or..maybe not. Either way it's funny. My professor said that one of her old students wrote this one:

To His Reticent Tease
If tomorrow never came,
I'd put up with your teasing game.
We could sit and waste the days
In goopy dumb romantic ways.
You'd prattle on about our hearts,
While I could sit and admire your parts.
I'd ogle both your cherry lips
And scrutinize your curvy hips,
Admire your rosy thighs with zest,
And contemplate your great big chest.
I guess that you enjoy that stuff,
But frankly dear I've had enough.
I've suffered in this horny state
Forever--and yet you make me wait,
And when Death's scythe comes swinging down
We'll both be going underground.
In the future, all I can see
Is six feet deep for you and me,
Where worms will get what I can't caress
Concealed beneath your flimsy dress.
So what's the point of staying pure
To lose it to a fishing lure?
Be grateful that I wait for you,
I could get it from someone new.
So before we both turn old and gray
Won't you at least give me a lay?
Let's get to it while we're able
Perhaps here on your coffee table.
But all I really wish to say,
Is let's have our fun while we still may
Since someday soon we'll both be dead,
Let's cut the crap and go to bed.
For though we cannot make time stop
It goes quite fast when I'm on top.
---Micheala Schlocker, 1994

hahaha....It was pretty amusing i thought. That guy in the poem is such an ass though. gahaahha..anyways, that's about all for now. Just felt like sharing that :P