Long Island Sound
By Emma Lazarus
I see it as it looked one afternoon
In August,--by a fresh soft breeze o'erblown.
The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon,
A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon.
The shining waters with pale currents strewn,
The quiet fishing-smacks, the Eastern cove,
The semi-circle of its dark, green grove.
The luminous grasses, and the merry sun
In the grave sky; the sparkle far and wide,
Laughter of unseen children, cheerful chirp
Of crickets, and low lisp of rippling tide,
Light summer clouds fantastical as sleep
Changing unnoted while I gazed thereon.
All these fair sounds and sights I made my own.
Sorry about the late-night hysterical squee yesterday; I just couldn't help myself. *g* Am rushing off to lunch with office_ennui and then rushing home for the shitload of work dumped upon me; hopefully I can get at least some of it done before my son's violin lesson this evening. (Watching Russell Crowe trying to get the notes right in the M&C extras footage has been most enlightening to him, as he is frustrated that he cannot play like Perlman already; considering that it was Crowe who made him want to learn the instrument in the first place, this seems only fair to me. But, oops, I am close to squee again.)
On a much more somber and infuriating note, from hallucinateme: "Michigan Preparing To Let Doctors Refuse To Treat Gays"</b>. What in hell is wrong with these people?! I want to go back to teaching at DePaul, a university named after a Catholic saint who insisted that Christians had an obligation to feed, clothe and educate even people who did not share their beliefs...and this was centuries ago! Why, why, why isn't there a Vincentian Pope?
From musesfool, and yay, I get to do more Malfoys, with Remus watching no less: