Simon and Garfunkel are the sweetest respite from Percy Bysse Shelley that I think can possibly be found. My entries for the next little while will, I predict, be full of naught but foof and fluff. Because that is what I have been stuffing my head with. Shelley can make a breathtaking spectacle of a mountain and a ravine, and Wordsworth makes a fabulous picture of Tintern Abbey. Keat''s Odes are beautiful if one understands the ssssymbolism (symbology, to Boondock fans:)

And, yawning, believe me when I tell you that that stuff is thirsty work. I long merely to finish the evening's class and walk to the Barnes and Noble down the street, humming up the escalator to the cafe' area and the armchair in the corner that is Mine. I want to crawl in and sit with a book in front of me, not necessarily reading, and just let that all sink in. I can't even remember the symbolism of Tintern Abbey even though we spent at least an hour on it.

I'm beginning to nod off now--I imagine not many people would stay up after that class to write amusing things in their weblogs, but then I'm weird. So, has anybody read anything by the poets mentioned and what was your first reaction? If you haven't, don't mention Ezra Pound or I will hurt you . . . : )

sleepyheaded in italy,

your faithful writer