Pre-Raph feelins
Thou art more than the Gods who number the days of our temporal breath;
Let these give labour and slumber; but thou, Proserpina, death.
Therefore now at they feet I abide for a seaon in silence. I know
I shall die as my fathers died, and sleep as they sleep; even so.
For the glass of the years is brittle wherein we gaze for a span;
A little soul for a little bears up this corpse which is man.
So long I endure, no longer; and laugh not again, neither weep.
For there is no God found stronger than death; and death is a sleep.
Swinburne
English Lit exam tomorrow, Marxism paper due tomorrow, studied, half typed, half brained, half witted.... summer I can feel your teeth biting on my shoulder.