Plus ça change...
Here's a poem, that I remembered enjoying a long time ago.
A Late
Aubade
You could be sitting now in a carrel
Turning some liver-spotted page,
Or rising in an elevator-cage
Toward Ladies' Apparel.
You could be planting a raucous bed
Of salvia, in rubber gloves,
Or lunching through a screed of someone's loves
With pitying head,
Or making some unhappy setter
Heel, or listening to a bleak
lecture on Schoenberg's serial technique.
Isn't this better?
Think of all the time you are not
Wasting, and would not care to waste,
Such things, thank God, not being to your taste.
Think what a lot
Of time, by woman's reckoning,
You've saved, and so may spend on this,
You who had rather lie in bed and kiss
Than anything.
It's almost noon, you say? If so,
Time flies, and I need not rehearse
The rosebuds-theme of centuries of verse.
If you must go,
Wait for a while, then slip downstairs
And bring us up some chilled white wine,
And some blue cheese, and crackers, and some fine
Ruddy-skinned pears.
- by Richard Wilbur
Ah yes. I didn't even
like blue cheese in high school when this poem first made me smile!
It is no secret that I love to sleep, and stay in bed. Several Christmases in a row during high school, I asked for bed accoutrements for my "big present" (aka the "santa present") -- I got pillows, a comforter, throw pillows... very exciting for me. At some point in college my ideal weekend day was a whole day spent in my big bed:
le jour du grand lit! Not just sleeping, mind you, but eating yummy snacks, (in bed! shocking, I know...) and reading... etc. One of my current prized possessions is my down comforter. The more things change, the more they stay the same?
