By Richard Lovelace
Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind
That from nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.
True, a mew mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more.
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I had a bunch to do on Wednesday and I got nearly a third of it done, so I get to feel accomplished. It helped that LiveJournal was dead for a lot of the day, so I couldn't be distracted there. My kids have no school on Thursday, so we're planning to go to Winterthur to see the gardens in bloom, and I had to get going on articles due Friday.
I got to have dinner with Gblvr and do a bit of shopping -- there is now a store in the mall that sells beach-town India cotton sundresses for $10, which makes me ridiculously happy, and Forever 21 has socks for under a dollar with cherry blossoms, turtles, and little birdies. I am in a rush to get to bed, so here are some Brookside Gardens photos:
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