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| Bathsheba at Her Bath, Rembrandt |
That's the title of the NC-17 French lesbian movie that I'm going to see this afternoon, after I have coffee with a fellow de-schooler. I'll let you know how it is -- the movie, not the de-schooling -- whether I give up dreams of Javier Bardem in favor of the fairer sex. Here's a poem from the 16th century:
Bethsabe's Song
Hot sun, cool fire, tempered with sweet air,
Black shade, fair nurse, shadow my white hair.
Shine, sun; burn, fire; breathe, air and ease me;
Black shade, fair nurse, shroud me and please me.
Shadow, my sweet nurse, keep me from burning;
Make not my glad cause cause of mourning.
Let not my beauty's fire
Inflame unstaid desire,
Nor pierce any bright eye
That wandereth lightly.
George Peele (1556-1596)
Maybe I should have posted Sappho, but I loved this one, especially the line Make not my glad cause cause of mourning. I got a couple of sweet emails today from teachers at Oliver's school that have worked with him and with Henry, when Henry was at the same school. My eyes teared up when I read them. I also heard that the Powers That Be at the school were snarky when they heard we were leaving, and my ego bristled and my thoughts turned toward the negative, but I let it go, let it go, let it go, more links in the chain behind me.
Make not my glad cause cause of mourning.
