Friday Poetry
Because I was in the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Joan on Friday, enjoying the extraordinary experience of Stendhal’s Syndrome in the company of the woman I love, a Samuel Daniel poem.
Tethy’s Festival
Are they shadows that we see?
And can shadows pleasure give?
Pleasures only pleasures be,
Cast by bodies we conceive;
And are made the things we deem
In those figures which they seem.
But those pleasures vanish fast,
Which by shadows are exprest;
Pleasures are not, if they last;
In their passing is their best:
Glory is more bright and gay
In a flash, and so away.
Feed apace then, greedy eyes,
On the wonder you behold:
Take it sudden, as it flies,
Though you have it not to hold.
When your eyes have done their part
Thought must length’n it in the heart.
The Things That Make Us Happy Make Us Wise 
You forgot to mention that in addition to an encyclopedic knowledge of fonts, the Word Press Man and his lady have gumption, and, as you know, that is everything!
R
P.S. I love your new site. It is as elegant as Tuxedo Boy but I wish the background color was as bright as Little Miss Sunshine.
I think you meant to leave this comment at the old site . . . but there’s something surreal about having it here, so I’m leaving it.
i just love reading blogs where i learn something new … Stendhal’s syndrome is something i’d never heard of –