TRIP TO WINDSOR CASTLE POEM 34

A dark and gloomy day today - there is a dull quiet to the atmosphere. Sleepy in aspect today I am still thinking about some Quilter songs I heard in a concert yesterday. They spoke about dreams and ambitions and life in a distinctly English fashion. The chromaticism within the piano accompaniment had a deep intimacy about it while the tenor's line soared over.

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“This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself, Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea.” William Shakespeare

Behaviour

They say behaviour is outward,

And readable like the page,

Blacked and red with ink,

Pliable to touch when manipulated.

One can go through the motions,

One can draw an emotion,

So you movement indicates,

Suggests something to me.

Something innate and unspoken,

Except by the lines and curves,

Of your body leaning towards me,

Defining the undefined without words.

“Is there any wilderness of sand in the deserts of Arabia, is there any prospect of desolation among the ruins of Palestine, which can rival the repelling effect on the eye, and the depressing influence on the mind, of an English country town in the first stage of its existence, and in the transition state of its prosperity?” Wilkie Collins