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Poetry to file by

I've completely given up on waiting for the damned filing gnomes to arrive. Today, I spent about an hour making folders and rifling through paper. On the one hand, I accomplished something. On the other . . . *sigh* If I didn't know how many folders I'd made and how much paper I'd filed, I'd swear I hadn't touched the basket full o'filing. No, not an "in"-basket. A LAUNDRY basket full o'filing.

But all day, I've been in the pleasant company of Christopher Marlowe. He keeps singing "and I will make thee beds of roses and a thousand fragrant posies, a cap of flowers and a kirtle, embroidered all in leaves of myrtle." And I do mean singing, because once upon a time in my life singing madrigals in high school and college, I believe we must've sung a setting of "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love". Or else it was an art song solo I did. Or something.

Here (again), the text of Christopher Marlowe's lovely poem:

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.

There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair linèd slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.

Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

I would love for someone to be making (or at least offering to make) me a bed of roses and thousand fragrant posies. And I love the idea of proving all the pleasures. But today, Mr. Marlowe made my filing time much easier, and so I thank him.

Those of you wanting to know what reply the shepherd received, or those of you with a perverse sense of humor — and I know who you are! — will want to follow the link to my earlier post, to check out Sir Walter Raleigh's The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd.

Having given up on filing gnomes today, I'm off to see about some Christmas elves. Fred Claus, here I come!

Today's the end of the WBBT, with one final tour stop: Blake Nelson at The Ya Ya Yas.

To check out the snowflakes featured in today's blogosphere, click on the Robert's Snow button to the left. The girls at 7-Imp have reposted this year's Scaredy Squirrel snowflake by Mélanie Watts (originally shared yesterday by Emily over at Whimsy Books. In addition, Jules and Eisha have also been keeping an ongoing list of blog posts thus far featuring snowflakes and the artists who created them.

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( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
(Deleted comment)
Nov. 11th, 2007 02:17 am (UTC)
Perhaps he's waiting until he's finished embroidering your kirtle.
Nov. 11th, 2007 02:04 am (UTC)
Fail, Kelly, not file.

That's what happens when you keep hearing Markus Zusak's accent in your head.

Nov. 11th, 2007 02:16 am (UTC)
Are you saying they're the failing gnomes? Crikey! No wonder they didn't show up!

And I've not yet heard the divine Mr. Z in person, but I'd like to!
Nov. 11th, 2007 04:41 pm (UTC)
I want some filing gnomes. Can you send them my way if they ever show up?
Nov. 11th, 2007 08:42 pm (UTC)
I will try to remember. At this point, I've given up all hope of them showing up to file. I just wish they'd stop coming by to assist the papers in multiplying.
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )

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