Those lovers, young, may think they know,
But they won't know the score,
Until they're married twenty years,
And then they add some more.
Some lovers must experiment
On ways that 'sex is best; '
But practicing eroticism
Doesn't meet the test.
The thing they need to learn is that
Good sex is tied to love;
And love is the ingredient
There is too little of.
With love they'd learn the meaning of
The many ways to give,
The many ways successful lovers
Learn to love and live.
Some lovers suffer setbacks when,
In early years, they learn
They don't experience true pleasure,
Just because they yearn.
They've got to work for each success,
For each good year; and then
They'll put it all together,
So that each will comprehend.
The ways they understand are those
True lovers learn with tears:
That bodies, hearts, and minds.... and sex....
Mature throughout the years.
So, cling together lovers, young,
But learn this lesson, true:
Be true to each.... your love will grow....
And sanctify the two.
(Written shortly after my 24th wedding anniversary in May 1975, Geneva, Switzerland)
Frank, born in Washington, lived his early years in the small community of Glencarlyn, across the Potomac River from the Nation's Capital, in Arlington County, Virginia. After his father, Francis I. V. Gardner, died in a construction accident. his mother, Marie Gardner, moved with Frank, age four, and his two sisters, back to Washington, where she went to work as a clerk-typist for the U. S. Government. Frank attended elementary and high school in Washington. After completing two years of college in 1942, Frank enlisted in the U. S. Marine Corps to fight in World War Two. After boot camp... Read more...
Born in 1714 in Halesowen (now Worcestershire) England living at the family home 'The Leasowes'. Halesowen, which, up to the early years of the 18th century was in part of Shropshire. He was educated at Solihull Grammar School, where he met and became firm friends with the future poet Richard...
Jeg saae kun tilbage. Mig Livets Lyst bortklang;
Da toned mig i Sjælen saa trøstelig en Sang;
See frem, men ei tilbage! Hvad Hjertet attraaer,
Maaskee dog engang under Solen du naaer.
Lad Bølger bortrulle! lad Løvet flagre hen!
Rask bruser dog Strømmen, frisk Skoven staaer...