I've had just enough time... to celebrate another Valentine Day cum Chap Goh Meh Day
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When flowers kisses... |
When I finished reciting that poem, one farmer’s wife clapped very enthusiastically and very loudly. Only one. The rest stared at me in stoney silence maybe wondering if I have gone out of my mind. I cannot remember how I connect the poem with the rest of the technical report but I must have done it somehow for I finished it off quite acceptably to receive decent applause at least, if not as enthusiastically as that farmer’s wife.
But I never tried that stunt again in the other towns and cities. Not in Victoria with my stories of crazy Gila birds that hanged like bats and where that pretty reporter asked me to squeeze in with her into her small car with her microphones saying “it sounds better this way”. Not in the imposing steel and glass towers of Sydney. Not in Wagga Wagga where I was in my elements with my stories of tip toeing naked kangaroos on cold autumn nights and the horror of being naked in a hen house of hundreds of excited chicks. That performance got me a TV interview and the invitation to go rice sowing on a light plane.
Mmmm… Come to think of it, maybe the timing was just not right. Maybe, I should have recited it only on Valentine Day.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
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A lovely pair... |