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A young man turned thirty-six
He fought for liberty and died down in Greece.
It's a last day in the yellow leaf;
It's a heart that's eaten by canker and grief.
And isn't it Byronic ... don't you think?
It's Assyrians like wolves on the fold,
Cohorts gleamin' in purple and gold --
Like the forest leaves after Autumn hath blown,
Who would've thought they'd wither?
( Read more... )
[Calliope alone knows where that came from (except that my next project at work will involve our collection of Byroniana, including his tea caddy). I don't even like the original song: I'm an English major -- I know what irony is, and it isn't rain on your wedding day. That's just weather. (It might involve the pathetic fallacy, of course, particularly if you're being married in a melodrama. But that's another post.)]
He fought for liberty and died down in Greece.
It's a last day in the yellow leaf;
It's a heart that's eaten by canker and grief.
And isn't it Byronic ... don't you think?
It's Assyrians like wolves on the fold,
Cohorts gleamin' in purple and gold --
Like the forest leaves after Autumn hath blown,
Who would've thought they'd wither?
( Read more... )
[Calliope alone knows where that came from (except that my next project at work will involve our collection of Byroniana, including his tea caddy). I don't even like the original song: I'm an English major -- I know what irony is, and it isn't rain on your wedding day. That's just weather. (It might involve the pathetic fallacy, of course, particularly if you're being married in a melodrama. But that's another post.)]