By Christina Rossetti
Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.
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Thursday was uneventful, mostly involving chores, like putting clothes away in my room while Adam and his girlfriend were discussing my failures as a parent and objecting to being overheard since I require Adam to keep his door open when his girlfriend is in there. We had Papa John's pizza for dinner because there's always a big discount when the Nationals score more than five points and win the day before.
Evening involved watching a Star Trek episode, then watching a Relic Hunter episode, then watching Stewart and Colbert eviscerate the Vatican's treatment of nuns and London's preparation for the Olympics ("Harry Potter and the Death of the Franchise!" "Get your geography straight, Doctor Who!"). Here are some more photos from the Colonial Fair at Claude Moore Farm last weekend:
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