Sonnet 086 - LXXXVI
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all too precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonished.
He, nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him wi…
A Day Or Two At The Museum I🏛️
博物馆的一两天 I🏛️
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missing project:
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Skellow (adj.)
Descriptive of the satisfaction experienced when looking at a really good dry-stone wall.
Douglas Adams & John Lloyd, The Meaning of Liff https://tmoliff.blogspot.com/2012/09/skellow-adj.html
Apparently today is #ShowYourStripes day.
If there are still people unaware that #ClimateChange is happening... maybe we can get them up to speed by sharing our stripes.
If some who are aware it's happening think it's already "too late"... maybe we can tell them that ac…
Sonnet 126 - CXXVI
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
…