most soothing poem I know
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "The Day is Done
http://www.bartleby.com/102/65.html
I feel like that a lot these days. I walk around the world, it seems like, during the day, stuffing my head with Latin nonsense and trying to make sure I get places on time. All a girl could really ask for at the end of that is a lap to lay one's head on.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
Not sure how I feel about the "Arabs" insertion in there, but otherwise the picture is so dreamlike and lovely. "And lend to the rhyme of the poet / The beauty of thy voice." ahh. Some day.
***
In other 'news'... this is rather hilarious. I have a 'goiter.' I told my mom, if that's a goiter, then it's a pretty shapely one, because when you hear the word 'goiter' you (or at least I) think of a wizened old man or a drunk passed out on the street.
In reality, it is merely my thyroid glands, not acting to their full potential despite being pumped with stimulating something-or-others by some other part of my body. So, they are swollen. A second round of blood tests will determine if I will have to take pills to correct this for the rest of my life.
*headdesk*
I mean, it's pretty common, apparently, hypothyroidism, and I didn't know this but my paternal grandmother had thyroid CANCER... and it's not that.
But ugh. Yay for swollen necks. (-has to be the strangest sentence I've typed in a while.)
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "The Day is Done
http://www.bartleby.com/102/65.html
I feel like that a lot these days. I walk around the world, it seems like, during the day, stuffing my head with Latin nonsense and trying to make sure I get places on time. All a girl could really ask for at the end of that is a lap to lay one's head on.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
Not sure how I feel about the "Arabs" insertion in there, but otherwise the picture is so dreamlike and lovely. "And lend to the rhyme of the poet / The beauty of thy voice." ahh. Some day.
***
In other 'news'... this is rather hilarious. I have a 'goiter.' I told my mom, if that's a goiter, then it's a pretty shapely one, because when you hear the word 'goiter' you (or at least I) think of a wizened old man or a drunk passed out on the street.
In reality, it is merely my thyroid glands, not acting to their full potential despite being pumped with stimulating something-or-others by some other part of my body. So, they are swollen. A second round of blood tests will determine if I will have to take pills to correct this for the rest of my life.
*headdesk*
I mean, it's pretty common, apparently, hypothyroidism, and I didn't know this but my paternal grandmother had thyroid CANCER... and it's not that.
But ugh. Yay for swollen necks. (-has to be the strangest sentence I've typed in a while.)