Sunday, April 15, 2012

Got a fun day planned if everything goes right. Cynthia should be over early this afternoon and we'll look through all my fabric to see if we can find the backing to make the 2 grad pieces into pillows. If there is nothing appropriate here, she'll go through her stash. And believe me, her sewing stash makes my stitching stash look like I'm a rank beginner.

Then we're going to go and listen to a jazz quartet down at the Performing Arts Centre, back to her place for a homemade pea soup supper and a craft night. Now how does life get any better? Fingers crossed that nothing screws us up!

And back to the poems. I've been very slack lately!

To Night

Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Which make thee terrible and dear, --
Swift by thy flight!

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand --
Come, long-sought!

When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sighed for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turned to his rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest,
I sighed for thee.

Thy brother Death came, and cried,
Wouldst thou me?
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmured like a noontide bee,
Shall I nestle near thy side?
Wouldst thou me? -- And I replied,
No, not thee!

Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon --
Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved Night --
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!

Percy Bysshe Shelley
1792 - 1822

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