A gathering of clouds has veiled the moon, and now darken as it sets. A few starry patches remain, but are too small to reveal much sky. I doubt that I will see meteors tonight. The Leonids are seldom visible here, where November clouds are the norm. It is but a small disappointment, and leaves me none the worse.
Some verse:
Some verse:
Music, When Soft Voices Die
by Percy Shelley
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory--
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-20 12:10 am (UTC)heh