We're just about to run out of poetry month! Here's Annie Finch, to close things out until next year.
Sir, I am not a bird of prey: a Lady does not seize the day. I trust that brief Time will unfold our youth, before he makes us old. How could we two write lines of rhyme were we not fond of numbered Time and grateful to the vast and sweet trials his days will make us meet? The Grave's not just the body's curse; no skeleton can pen a verse! So while this numbered World we see, let's sweeten Time with poetry, and Time, in turn, may sweeten Love and give us time our love to prove. You've praised my eyes, forehead, breast: you've all our lives to praise the rest.
In response to Andrew Marvell, of course. Both poems are pretty good, so I'm reluctant to take sides. Except: Annie Finch has a blog! Does Andrew Marvell have a blog? Not to my knowledge, no. So Finch wins this round.