Then all smiles stopped together....

Memories of advanced english class...this was one of our favorites...

My Last Duchess

Robert Browning

That's my last duchess painted on the wall,Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her?
I said "Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
That depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts byThe curtain drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 't was not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhapsFra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much" or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat:" such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed: she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 't was all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace -all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush,at least. She thanked men - good! but thanked
Somehow - I know not how - as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech - (which I have not) - to make your will
Quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss
Or there exceed the mark"- and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse- E'en then would be some stooping;and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together.
There she standsAs if alive.
Will 't please you rise? We'll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting is my object. Nay, we'll go together down, sir.
Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.

Welcome aboard wench

All you men, women, children, trolls, purple gremlins, were-rabbits. et al put your hands together and welcome aboard Anjali, who has been so kind as to join in me in getting this blog out of the boondocks where it is currently languishing.
Expect more wackiness. You have been warned.

What...another one?

Well, here we are with another blog. Unjustified, some might say...why the waste of cyber space when my updates on the already existing one are few and far between? Well, it is because of the great civil war raging in my head which makes for rather fantastic headaches and a constantly vacant expression which is beginning to worry the mother woman. You see, there are these two annoying voices in my head which are always at loggerheads with each other (pardon the pun)...there is the cynical and silly voice which feels things like toilet monsters and hats and bananas in baskets are terribly funny and yawns at anything of a slightly serious nature. this is the voice which usually wins most arguments as it is by far rather more entertaining. It is also in keeping with my public image of a featherheaded clown. Now, the other voice has become rather insistent that it needs an outlet too, though it has even less to say than the cynical voice. this is the serious voice, by the way. So here we are, pandering to my love of the arts and mythology and long winded sentences with no end in sight.

Here is where i explore the other me...what rot, i can hear from all you kiddies...but hell, rot is always entertaining! So join me, on this quest, as i try to find my inner hercules and set free my drama-queenesque tendencies...