yeah I feel like that one of my sisters is convinced the best way to co0ol down is to eat hot food
Have I menttioned that apparantly its Un-PC to say Un- PC!
:lol:
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yeah I feel like that one of my sisters is convinced the best way to co0ol down is to eat hot food
Have I menttioned that apparantly its Un-PC to say Un- PC!
:lol:
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I hope everything goes well with your book fool.Quote:
Originally Posted by imthefoolonthehill
I wish I could drink of the Honey Dew.
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
thanks bongity bong.
Beware! Beware!
Beware of what Scher?????????
Beware the thought that leads to doom.....
A damsel with a dulcimerQuote:
Originally Posted by Bongitybongbong
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she play'd,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me,
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
from Kubla Khan by Coleridge.
It was a reference to Basil's post, which was a reference to Jack's post... :D
Kubla khan thats the one that starts in (somthing or other starts with X but pronounced z) did Khabla khan a pleasure dome decree..?
wasnt he high on drugs when he wrote that??
oh I just wondered...Quote:
Originally Posted by Scheherazade
so if all thoughts started out with a so then how can we alternate between alternatives?
Yes, Scher showed a sample from Samuel Taylor Coleridge's famous work, for good reason, or "Kubla Khan." I find it a true work of poetic art, though many others, yet perhaps no one on the forum, would disagree.Quote:
Originally Posted by Nightshade
To answer your second question, yes, Coleridge had a chronic addiction to laudanum, a derivative of opium, and wrote "Kubla Khan" after waking from a drug-induced dream, until a visitor interrupted him, and Coleridge left the epic poem forever unfinished.
The whole text:
Kubla Khan
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.