"The real trick to life is not to be in the know, but to be in the mystery."
-Fred Alan Wolf

02 August 2016


Doisneau, The Clock, 1957

How sweet I roam'd from field to field, 
         And tasted all the summer's pride, 
'Till I the prince of love beheld, 
         Who in the sunny beams did glide! 

He shew'd me lilies for my hair, 
         And blushing roses for my brow; 
He led me through his gardens fair, 
         Where all his golden pleasures grow. 

With sweet May dews my wings were wet, 
         And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage; 
He caught me in his silken net, 
         And shut me in his golden cage. 

He loves to sit and hear me sing, 
         Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; 
Then stretches out my golden wing, 
         And mocks my loss of liberty.

William Blake

No comments: