Wednesday, January 18, 2006
It's Carnival Time!
Before I rush off to my comic shop (and other adventures), I wanted to leave you with a late Elizabethan poem that deals with being an artist, intellectual, hobbyist, or lover with considerable insight.
Michael Drayton, Untitled, 1600
As other men, so I myself do muse
Why in this sort I wrest invention so,
And why these giddy metaphors I use,
Leaving the path the greater part do go.
I will resolve you: I am lunatic;
And ever this in madmen you shall find,
What they last thought of, when the brain grew sick,
In most destraction they keep that in mind:
Thus talking idly in this bedlam fit,
Reason and I (you must conceive) are twain.
'Tis nine years now since first I lost my wit;
Bear with me then, though troubled be my brain.
With diet and correction, men distraught
(Not too far past) may to their wits be brought.