poetry friday: in honor of the Summer Solstice

The Summer Sun

GREAT is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven without repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.

-- Robert Louis Stevenson

mysterious lady

Evan just read a quote re Eliot's The Wasteland, that it can't be read, it can only be reread.

That is exactly how I feel about Diana Wynne Jones books. I was just putting Conrad's Fate away, thinking "maybe in a while I can reread this and then actually understand it enough to be able to write a review of it."