When the Lamp is Shattered
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead-
When the cloud is scattered
The rainbow's glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
As music and splendor
Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart's echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute:-
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman's knell.
When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
Its passions will rock thee
As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee,
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
Happy March! It's practically spring! I did warn you that I was going to be boring and domestic the rest of this week, right? The good news is that we have about half a deck built -- the posts have been sunk into concrete and there are actual boards down, though most of them haven't been nailed in place yet and there are no railings or anything like that. I got a lot of writing done and took a long walk since the weather was gorgeous, but apart from bonding with squirrels and spending far too much time on Tumblr and DeviantArt looking at Les Mis fan art, I don't have a lot else to report.
After dinner (eggplant parmesan and sweet potato hash), we watched the last two parts of Parade's End. You all have probably noticed that I am not in love with Benedict Cumberbatch, and I'm unconvinced that he's a great actor as well -- maybe it's the roles he takes, but he has three convincing facial expressions and looks like he's constipated the rest of the time. There was not one character I could really like in the miniseries, not even as a feminist, since the independent-means-selfish wife and suffragist-turned-doormat love interest started to infuriate me. Some Lake Whetstone photos: