We read another poem in class today that I though was interesting, Shakespeare's 73rd sonnet.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
We talked about how it refered to not only death and old age, but also the death of anything and how when you know that you are going to loose something you love it more and you love it differently.
In other news, I thought that I had a leaf in my hair today since it was windy but when I went to pull it out, it was a hornet! That surprised me.