. . . .She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
8 comments:
nice...love the flowers you chose to accent the quote...ah things left unsaid...
Oh, I really liked that...you chose perfect pictures to illustrate the quote.
Wonderful photos! But what in the world is that in the last photo?
this is quite shot. love the caterpillar in the shot.. what a perfect camouflage :)
Thanks for your lovely poem and accompaning images. I don't recognize the poem, but it's very romantic, always longing for something which is beyond reach.
The verses beautiful and the pictures beautiful especially the rosebud. Thank you! Cathy
Mama-bug -- the last picture is of a man made of pottery, sitting on a rock -- my version of patience on a monument.
The quote is from Shakespeare's TWELFTH NIGHT from a speech by Viola describing her untold love.
I actually didn't notice the caterpillar when I took the first picture. But when I saw it on my computer, that quote (or the first part of it) popped into my mind.
Amazing picture!
Thanks for the quote , and for your comment to explain it.
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