The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling.
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

-W.Shakespeare

Wednesday 17 April 2013

The Good in the Bad


There are sweet spirits in fermented fruit.
We need our heavy anchor in the tempest,
And pray for sanguine shade in the desert. 
There are lovely lilies in the bog.
We look for telling signals in the fire,
And passion in a lover’s petty jealousy.

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