Tuesday 5 June 2012
Monday 4 June 2012
Shakespeare's 60th Sonnet
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Saturday 2 June 2012
Tuesday 29 May 2012
Saturday 26 May 2012
Saturday 12 May 2012
Friday 11 May 2012
Wednesday 2 May 2012
Saturday 21 April 2012
Friday 20 April 2012
Thursday 19 April 2012
Tuesday 17 April 2012
Saturday 14 April 2012
Friday 13 April 2012
Wednesday 11 April 2012
Tuesday 10 April 2012
Monday 9 April 2012
Sunday 8 April 2012
Wednesday 4 April 2012
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