| Saturday, May 20, 2006 |
| SUNDAYS ARE SUPERB 2 |
I must be getting soft in my old age or something. I said I would post things that I like on Sundays and whilst I am definitely a prose and not a poetry person, this always stuck with me. There is something about the idea of abusing the sun for spoiling your perfect night that I like...
THE SUN RISING.
by John Donne
BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."
She's all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.
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Just to contradict myself, here is a nice shot of Loch Lomond at dawn.
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posted by michael the tubthumper @ 4:19 pm  |
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| 3 Comments: |
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Damn I'm going to the Motherland (well, the Isle of Mull). And it had better be soon. Nice shot.
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i'll be a woman of few words on this comment;
WOW
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lovely pick ... lovely poem
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Damn I'm going to the Motherland (well, the Isle of Mull). And it had better be soon. Nice shot.