by Christine Daye » Fri Feb 02, 2018 8:58 am
"...hmmm... if you will study the poets... for words of love... then you must, must must read Bryon...
"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies....
"...and Shakespearean sonnets... and Shelley... oh... and I know he is not so fashionable... But Mr Edgar Allen Poe... he has a darkness that speaks to me...
" Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll!- a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river;
And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear?- weep now or nevermore!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
Come! let the burial rite be read- the funeral song be sung!-
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young-
A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young...."
She pauses for a moment.
"...ah... perhaps not... for words of love... still... there are many great minds from whom to learn... who have felt most keenly... the agony and the ecstasy of love... how will my words compare...?"
A shrug.
"...it matters not..."
She stiffens as his lips draw close to her green gloved hand, as if to draw it away, but when he doesn't connect, she carries on as if nothing has happened.
"...one of the two highlights? What is the other? Or do you intend to campaign for King...?"
She smiles, teasing gently.
Christine Daye - Malkavian neonate, harper and mezzo-soprano
Courteous, Acclaimed
Favoured by Antigone, Ashwin Major
Last night she came to me, my dead love came in((OOC - Sarah Callaghan,
sorcha.ni@gmail.com))