Saturday, completed.
Mar. 15th, 2009 02:31 amA difficult day. We've survived it. Now it's Sunday.
Self soothing - playing the Martin Backpacker (I learned Both Hands tonight - quite simple) and reading some poetry.
This made me think of loving Beth; I read it to her and she laughed:
It's St. Vincent Millay, of course
Sonet I
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs, -no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair
Than small white single poppies, - I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist, - with moonlight so.
Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed,
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink - and live - what has destroyed some men.
And here's Both Hands
Self soothing - playing the Martin Backpacker (I learned Both Hands tonight - quite simple) and reading some poetry.
This made me think of loving Beth; I read it to her and she laughed:
It's St. Vincent Millay, of course
Sonet I
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs, -no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair
Than small white single poppies, - I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist, - with moonlight so.
Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed,
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink - and live - what has destroyed some men.
And here's Both Hands