The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review
littlereview

Poem for Sunday, C&O Canal, Effie Gray


Trust Thou Thy Love
By John Ruskin

Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?
Trust thou thy Love: if she be mute, is she not pure?
Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet;
Fail, Sun and Breath!--yet, for thy peace, She shall endure.

--------

Am juggling simultaneous chat windows with Daniel (whose building buzzer phone calls are for some reason forwarding here instead of to him), my TrekToday editor (who is in the U.S. and I will finally get to meet him tomorrow), my next door neighbor Carole (who is my local expert on all matters concerning DC tourism), and Cheryl (whose birthday was Saturday!). So am mentally disjointed, sorry!

After a quiet morning reading, we started watching the Maryland-Bowling Green game, but first there was a delay for lightning, then the Terps started playing so badly that we decided to go see some actual turtles in the wild in the C&O Canal. The storm was over, but because it was still overcast and somewhat cool, we saw very few! Though we saw birds and ducks and did not get too muddy, so it was all good!











</center>

We stopped at the Bethesda Co-op on the way home from the canal, so we had Indian food for dinner. Then we watched Effie Gray, the Emma Thompson-penned movie about Millais' wife, though the film focused entirely on her miserable marriage to John Ruskin. Having seen pretty much every movie and TV show about the Pre-Raphaelites ever made, I see why Thompson was accused of plagiarism. The movie is slow but stylish!
Subscribe

  • Poem for Thursday and Great Falls Geese

    I Am Waiting By Lawrence Ferlinghetti I am waiting for my case to come up and I am waiting for a rebirth of wonder and I am waiting for someone…

  • Poem for Wednesday and Great Falls Cardinals

    The Bird Her Punctual Music Brings By Emily Dickinson The Bird her punctual music brings And lays it in its place— Its place is in the Human…

  • Poem for Tuesday and Carderock

    A wounded Deer – leaps highest – By Emily Dickinson A wounded Deer – leaps highest – I've heard the Hunter tell – 'Tis but the ecstasy of death…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments