By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
He rose at dawn and, fired with hope,
Shot o'er the seething harbour-bar,
And reach'd the ship and caught the rope,
And whistled to the morning star.
And while he whistled long and loud
He heard a fierce mermaiden cry,
"O boy, tho' thou are young and proud,
I see the place where thou wilt lie.
"The sands and yeasty surges mix
In caves about the dreary bay,
And on thy ribs the limpet sticks,
And in thy heart the scrawl shall play."
"Fool," he answer'd, "death is sure
To those that stay and those that roam,
But I will nevermore endure
To sit with empty hands at home.
"My mother clings about my neck,
My sisters crying, 'Stay for shame;'
My father raves of death and wreck,-
They are all to blame, they are all to blame.
"God help me! save I take my part
Of danger on the roaring sea,
A devil rises in my heart,
Far worse than any death to me."
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I woke up to pouring rain on Thursday, which returned on and off all day, though we had some periods of pretty overcast skies with the sun bursting through -- I kept going out to see if I could see a rainbow or a bunny (no on the former, yes on the latter) so I got to see lots of wet flower petals and shiny spring greens. Otherwise it was not an eventful day, mostly spent working on reviews and going food shopping, though when I stopped in Hair Cuttery to get shampoo-and-conditioner because it's cheaper there than at Ulta, I got a free cosmetic bag, too.
We watched this week's infuriating The 100 (I hate ALIE more than Pike) and a Bones episode (I don't want to know what Zack is up to, do I?) and now we're watching Russell Crowe celebrate his birthday on The Tonight Show by trying to convince Jimmy Fallon he doesn't have a xylophone covered in dingos, but my best fannish news for the day came from a tweet by Taron Egerton strongly implying that Colin Firth will be in Kingsman: The Golden Circle because reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated. From the National Aquarium last weekend:
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