Geese crying overhead in the near-dark. Back to Blake today, I am hoping. I have started rereading Eliot's The Mill on the Floss, in case that turns out to be the next book I write about. Meanwhile, my long poem also hovers. Surely with so many words trembling in the aether I'll manage to write something today.

from Tenth Song in Astrophil and Stella

Sir Philip Sidney

Thought, see thou no place forbear:

          Enter bravely everywhere

          Seize on all to her belonging;

          But if thou wouldst guarded be,

          Fearing her beams, take with thee

          Strength of liking, rage of longing.