By John William Burgon
It seems no work of Man's creative hand,
by labour wrought as wavering fancy planned;
But from the rock as if by magic grown,
eternal, silent, beautiful, alone!
Not virgin-white like that old Doric shrine,
where erst Athena held her rites divine;
Not saintly-grey, like many a minster fane,
that crowns the hill and consecrates the plain;
But rose-red as if the blush of dawn,
that first beheld them were not yet withdrawn;
The hues of youth upon a brow of woe,
which Man deemed old two thousand years ago,
Match me such marvel save in Eastern clime,
a rose-red city half as old as time.
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My Wednesday was unexciting. I had dinner plans that fell through because one of my friends has a concussion and the other wasn't feeling well, and I haven't figured out how to make my computer talk to my Roku yet. My catsitter friend came over in the evening to visit us and brought Cinnamon a heating blanket, which Cinnamon is very pleased about though Daisy is trying to find a way to sneak onto it.
But The X-Files!!! Which I think of as "the member berries episode"! The FLASHBACK! The Donald Trump jokes (aliens building a wall to keep us in our solar system because we send drugs, crime, rapists, and some, they assume, are good people: "You are free to explore Uranus all you want"). A conspiracy nut being right twice a day. Date Night. However the series ends, this is the episode I'll think of as the finale.
We also watched the Petra: Lost City of Stone episode of NOVA, which was very interesting and played the Raiders of the Lost Ark music because they know we know it from the movie, not the poem above. I forgot to mention yesterday that we watched The Flash's stupid prison storyline and the awesome Black Lightning (Anissa!!!). Historic books and art based on Shakespeare, Sappho, and the Bible from the Walters Museum in Baltimore:
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