When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Liberal Theology, Liberal Politics
5 years ago
Beats Walt Whitman all to heck.
ReplyDeleteDepends on my mood. Art is subjective, right?
ReplyDeleteShouldn't this also be tagged "wife stuff?" :)
ReplyDeleteWho told you Art is subjective? Next thing you know you will be blabbing on about the nature of piety and justice being unknowable.
ReplyDeleteWhen we all know that the wife if the final arbiter of all things.
;-)