Paisley Howell (tellatale) wrote,
@ 2008-03-08 11:18:00

Proud to report my toes are healed! Course they're still a little bruised. Didn't realize a bruise could get that dark shade of purple. But I reckon you guys didn't need to know that.

Enjoy this!

'Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold- too cold for me-
There pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

Edgar Allen Poe. Brilliant. Slightly insane but brilliant.

Paisley

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kennicot
2008-03-08 10:57 pm UTC (link)

Poe wasn't insane, he was simply misunderstood! And he was so sad after the death of his love, someone should have tried to give him a hug. It's too bad he wasn't a Hufflepuff, someone would have given him a hug and a cup of tea and taken care of him right good then.

Oh that poem should be a song! I think I am going to take that and make up a tune for it and sing it while I go tidy up the Common Room a bit.

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tellatale
2008-03-09 01:19 am UTC (link)

Well when I say insane I only ment off his rocker a bit, not as an insult in anyway but you do have to admit he wasn't all there. A lot of that does have to do with him losing loved ones. It was his mother, foster mother, wife and a number of other people that died that he cared about. That's true, he would have done alright in Hufflepuff! Or Ravenclaw.

If you make it into a song, let me hear it when you're finished.

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