By Jan Struther a.k.a. Joyce Maxtone Graham
By the red furnace stands
Apollo mute,
Holding in upraised hands
His iron flute.
Slowly from back and brow
The bright sweat drips;
He sets the clarion now
Light to his lips,
And ever, as he blows,
Without a sound
His molten music flows,
Golden and round.
Never from herald's breath
In brazen horn,
Telling of strife and death
Or of peace new-born;
From silver clarinet
By fingers small
To lips of ruby set
In raftered hall;
From jilted shepherd's reed
Plaintively proving
How he in very deed
Must die of loving–
Never from all these came
A music sweeter
Than this bright sphere of flame
With neither sound nor name,
Cadence nor metre,
That steadily, as he blows
On his iron flute,
Trembles and swells and glows,
Gold-amber, amber-rose,
In melody mute.
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Flickr and I have been fighting for the past two hours, so I must keep this short -- none of the photos below may have tags or albums saved, sorry. Not an exciting morning, which involved unpacking and travel laundry; in the afternoon I had a pass for the first Deoxys EX raid, so first I went to the mall for a Mewtwo raid, then I stopped in the park with people from that raid for another, and I had bubble tea and a bagel while waiting for Deoxys (which I now have on both accounts, though in both cases someone else helped me catch him).
Hmm, I guess it was a Pokemon-centric afternoon, which is easier than thinking about politics. Paul and I went to the food store via a Pokestop that I'd been told had the new Spinda quest, so now I have the third Spinda, too. There was football on this evening while I was fighting with Flickr, and I think Kansas City may have beaten Denver, but I did not pay much attention. Here if they show up are some photos of the Chihuly installations in the gardens around the Biltmore estate and in one case in the entrance hall of the mansion:
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