Desert Strike

by Leo Nix

  Children – Lenny, Liam, Danielle (Harry and Jenny), Elle and Harry (Riley and Katie), Annie (Lucy),

  Dogs – Dog, Blue Dog, Black Dog, Red Dog and her puppies

  Extras – Uncle Wardiri (Donna's aboriginal Grand Uncle), Jarl Horsely (Arkaroola, book 2), Billy (see books 1, 2 and 3), Shamus (books 1, 2, 3),

  If you enjoyed my book I would appreciate your review, thanks

  To His Coy Mistress – Andrew Marvel (1621-1678)

  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

  Shouldst 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;

  A hundred years should go to praise

  Thine eyes and on 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 wingèd 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 honour 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 time devour

  Than languish in his slow-chapped power.

  Let us roll all our strength and all

  Our sweetness up 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.

  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/To_His_Coy_Mistress