I admit that I am a little peeved at myself for not having written a post with significant length this week, but it’s been a long week and my brain is not only tired, but also screaming at me to write poetry. And when one’s brain “strongly encourages” that one should write poetry, it’s nigh-on undeniable.
So, instead of writing the lengthy post I had planned for this evening, I will leave you with one of my favourite bits of poetry (it’s Shakespeare, are you surprised?).
If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs (the sister and the brother),
Then must the love be great ‘twixt thee and me,
Because thou lov’st the one and I the other.
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
As passing all conceit, needs no defense.
Thou lov’st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Phoebus’ lute, the queen of music, makes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown’d
When as himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both (as poets feign),
One knight loves both, and both in thee remain.