A quote from Shakespeare this week.
‘Measure for Measure’
Act 4, Sc.1.
” Hide, oh hide those hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bosom bears
On whose tops the pink that grow
Are of those that April wears: “
I have to disagree here, since:
Soon, too soon, where mounds
sculpted by your tides and taut skin
now tease the sun, gravity will
shape declivities, and rosebuds
will be puckered and brown.