Author: Michael (---.donpac.ru)
Date: 01-09-06 10:01
The former post was off topic and was removed as it was a violation of our
Great Books spirit.
These forums are being phased out & replaced. Join us at our new
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jollyrogerwest.com Great Books forums,
and booksliterature.com Great Books forums.
Please respect that these are Great Books sites. We far prefer
discussions along the following
The ultimate determinant in the struggle now going on for the world will
not be bombs and rockets but a test of wills and ideas - a trial of
spiritual resolve: the values we hold, the beliefs we cherish and the
ideals to which we are dedicated.
If eyes were made for seeing,
Then beauty is its own excuse for being. -Ralph Waldo Emerson
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls, all silvered o\'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer\'s green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing \'gainst Time\'s scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Mine eye hath play\'d the painter and hath stell\'d,
Thy beauty\'s form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein \'tis held,
And perspective it is best painter\'s art.
For through the painter must you see his skill,
To find where your true image pictur\'d lies,
Which in my bosom\'s shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;
Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art,
They draw but what they see, know not the heart.