Monday, January 20, 2020

Poem for Monday and Museum Afternoon

The Gallery
By Andrew Marvell

Clora, come view my soul, and tell  
Whether I have contrived it well.  
Now all its several lodgings lie  
Composed into one gallery;
And the great arras-hangings, made  
Of various faces, by are laid;  
That, for all furniture, you’ll find  
Only your picture in my mind.

Here thou are painted in the dress
Of an inhuman murderess;  
Examining upon our hearts  
Thy fertile shop of cruel arts:  
Engines more keen than ever yet  
Adorned a tyrant’s cabinet;
Of which the most tormenting are
Black eyes, red lips, and curlèd hair.

But, on the other side, th’art drawn  
Like to Aurora in the dawn;
When in the East she slumbering lies,  
And stretches out her milky thighs;  
While all the morning choir does sing,  
And manna falls, and roses spring;  
And, at thy feet, the wooing doves  
Sit pérfecting their harmless loves.

Like an enchantress here thou show’st,  
Vexing thy restless lover’s ghost;  
And, by a light obscure, dost rave  
Over his entrails, in the cave;  
Divining thence, with horrid care,  
How long thou shalt continue fair;
And (when informed) them throw’st away,
To be the greedy vulture’s prey.

But, against that, thou sit’st afloat  
Like Venus in her pearly boat.
The halcyons, calming all that’s nigh,  
Betwixt the air and water fly;  
Or, if some rolling wave appears,  
A mass of ambergris it bears.
Nor blows more wind than what may well  
Convoy the perfume to the smell.

These pictures and a thousand more
Of thee my gallery do store
In all the forms thou canst invent  
Either to please me, or torment:  
For thou alone to people me,  
Art grown a numerous colony;  
And a collection choicer far
Than or Whitehall’s or Mantua’s were.

But, of these pictures and the rest,
That at the entrance likes me best:  
Where the same posture, and the look  
Remains, with which I first was took:  
A tender shepherdess, whose hair
Hangs loosely playing in the air,  
Transplanting flowers from the green hill,  
To crown her head, and bosom fill.


We went downtown Sunday morning so we could be there when Pokemon Community Day started, because Piplup was the chosen Pokemon this month and Piplup is a penguin and therefore one of the ones I remember Adam talking about from long before I cared about Pokemon at all. We parked near the Botanical Garden and walked around the National Mall in a big loop before going to the National Gallery of Art, where we ate lunch before the Community Day event ended. Then we went to the exhibits on pastels and on Alonso Berruguete's sculpture.

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We came home while it still looked like the Titans could beat the Chiefs, before the Chiefs started blowing them out and made it clear they deserved to be in the Super Bowl. Then we watched the start of the Packers-49ers game, but it was obvious by the start of Supergirl that San Francisco would be joining Kansas City, so we switched to superheroes while we had dessert, following it up with Marvel's Runaways (which is finally treating Leslie as a fellow victim who was groomed by a child abuser, not a schemer with PRIDE).

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