Author: Julia (---.zone129.zaural.ru)
Date: 01-02-06 14:07
The former post was off topic and was removed as it was a violation of our
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They see poetry in what I have done. No. I apply my methods, and
that is all there is to it.
In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But \'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue\'s tune delighted;
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway\'d the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart\'s slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old;
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wondering at the present nor the past,
For thy records and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste.
This I do vow and this shall ever be;
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
And his heart was stirred, it felt a father\'s kindness: such an emotion as the possessor of beauty can
inspire in one who offered himself up in spirit to create beauty. -Thomas Mann, Death in Venice