Yeah, my crappily-paid job has some perks. Today, the books which landed on my desk for inclusion in my 'In brief' column of 50-word new book summaries/reviews included both a very interesting and funny book about depression (Sunbathing in the Rain by Gwyneth Lewis) and, best of all, the new edition of The New Penguin Book of Love Poetry. The latter includes some, if not all, of my favourite poems ever, including the 18th/19th century poet Walter Savage Landor's best-known poem, which is the best poem about unrequited love and the fuckers who encourage it in others ever written. it's a poem that had great revelence for me at various stages in my semi-adult life. And for the benefit of my readers, I shall reproduce it here today (it's short).
You smiled, you spoke, and I believed, By every word and smile deceived. Another man would hope no more; Nor hope I what I hoped before: But let not this last wish be vain; Deceive, deceive me once again!