Meditations On First Snowstorms

Such a fall of snow,
Such a fall of snow,
It's been long years since such a thing was seen.
But the snowflakes didn't know,
But the snowflakes didn't know.
They fell, and the earth lay beautiful,
Lay beautiful and clean.

Snow flies down, to whirl, melt, or hover,
And with flurries dancing through,
The winter sweeps over, sweeps over
All that's been there before you.

Upon the fallen white,
Upon the fallen white,
The first snow spreading over the damp earth
Come clear, though shy and light,
Come clear, though shy and light,
The first uncertain footprints
That look a bit like yours.

Snow flies down, to whirl, melt, or hover,
And with flurries dancing through,
The winter sweeps over, sweeps over
All that had been there for you.
--- the group Plamya, probably their most famous song. Cute how misremembering one one-syllable preposition could turn this into either a lovers-meeting song or a breakup song.

( Ruminations in poetry, for my own memory, mostly )

The Passion That Is King In You

ROMEO: And we mean well in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.
MERCUTIO: Why, may one ask?
ROMEO: I dream'd a dream to-night.
MERCUTIO: And so did I.
ROMEO: Well, what was yours?
MERCUTIO: That dreamers often lie.
ROMEO: In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
MERCUTIO: O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
...
ROMEO Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
Thou talk'st of nothing.
MERCUTIO True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
BENVOLIO This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
...
ORLANDO: Are you perchance in love?
ROMEO: Ay, that I am.
ORLANDO: And she loves you not?
ROMEO: Not me, and no one else; for she's so cruel
To hide her beauty all away from men
By vows of chastity, and ne'er the world again
Shall see the face of one in this way fair,
For ne'er a child she shall ever bear.
But I'll not bore one who has never loved.
ORLANDO: Ay, but I have.
ROMEO: You have? But not so true
Can be the passion that is king in you.
As streams before a dam run broad and deep,
So greater is the love of one who has
No hope of e'er being loved in return.
ORLANDO: I know not whether I could have that hope
For palace walls stand between her and me.
Our eyes met once, but once, and then we knew
We loved; and it was like a glorious sun
Had shone over my dark and empty life
And birds sang where I had let silence reign,
But only for an instant; Fortune's wheel
Then rolled between us, spokes like prison bars,
Concealed the sun, and prisoned me once more,
And doors of parting killed the singing birds.
ROMEO: At least she loves you. I have no such chance.
ORLANDO: But I face death if I return to meet her.
ROMEO: Death is a glorious sleep I'd gladly risk
To see my love and know that she loves me.
ORLANDO: Are you suggesting my love kills my courage?!
For her I'll wrestle Hydras and Pythons,
Face Jove himself, and from his mount him throw,
Walk down to Hades with a lamp lit by her hands.
What's Hercules to me? He did twelve labours,
I'll outdo him and twelve thousand do
For one fair smile of fair Rosalind.
ROMEO: Of who?
(c)2001 me (why, you were racking your brains for when this scene happened in Shakespeare?)

Yeah, someday I'll find again the rest of that grade ten assignment, to write an extra scene into As You Like It. I really don't know what possessed me ("You have? But not so true can be the passion that is king in you..."), but that very lunch hour after the assignment was handed out, I was bitten by the Muse,  and  Athaira was hard pressed to keep transcribing as my inspiration struck.  Romeo was at the time pining for Rosaline, wandering about pining for her, and so he and Orlando have a fight before they realize those are two different women with similar names.

ORLANDO: Capulet? Montague? Rosalind's uncle
Is the usurping younger Duke of France.
ROMEO: Have I strayed so far in my wanderings
To go from Verona straight to France?!

And now, walking home in the dark, muscles relearning the art of walking on uneven, uncertain, snowbound terrain and still swaggering kiss-my-ass while doing it, I found myself reciting Orlando's and Romeo's speeches, and laughing.

I still have a crush on Mercutio. And I probably always will.

P.S. I now remember that before we started studying As You Like It, or it was probably Twelfth Night,  because we did that earlier, Lord Toby had us fill out a question sheet concerning key things to think about when reading a Shakespearean comedy,
Q. Why do people fall in love? Is there such a thing as true love?
Tourmaline's A: Because one day a chemical at the base of your brain goes whacko and makes you long for the admiration of the first idiot you see. The effect is permanent and irresistible. Yes, there is such a thing as true love.

Too late to keep me from being a cynic. Far too late.