segunda-feira, 19 de outubro de 2009


“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make,
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for th mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.”

3 comentários:

lokaz disse...

obrigada Flo
cê é um anjo...
ja te falei que vou participar da proxima subversos? acho que sim...
esperopoder ir pra SP denovo

lokaz disse...

Flo, coloquei suas estorinhas comigo lá no
o bosco comentou lá pra vc :P

lokaz disse...

mas as tiras foram selecionadas pra subversos?
hahaha ia ser engraçcado :P

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