Tried to get Kenneth Branagh to read this for us, but apparently he's still at Stratford rejoicing in Friday evening's triumph:
“Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.”
I'd love to hear your teacherly guy's analysis of that Lindsay,
Tried to get Kenneth Branagh to read this for us, but apparently he's still at Stratford rejoicing in Friday evening's triumph:
ReplyDelete“Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.”
I'd love to hear your teacherly guy's analysis of that Lindsay,
Lindsay,
ReplyDeleteYour artwork is spot on - I'm so jealous ;-)
Ash
So glad God we poets still have free will, opinions and guts. Great satire Lindsay.
ReplyDelete