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Dear Foxy,

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Shakespeare wrote :

« No longer mourn for me when I am dead.
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell.

Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so,
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.

O if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay;

Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone. »

[“The Triumph of Death”]
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He also wrote :

« Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments: love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove;
O, no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth ’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love ’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. »

[“Wedded Love – Sonnet CXVI”]
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Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote :

« Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken;

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed:
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber »

["CCLXXXVIII]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0MkpcI3khY&ab_channel=SoundOnVision

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Hi Bp. My internet has been down. I agree with. Your assessment. Thank. You for the. Lovely poems. Hopefully I scan. Get my internet to work soon.

Dear. BP,,

Sorry for the. Typos. My. Computer. Is. Not. Working. And. I. Am. Not. Used. To. My. Son,s. iPad.

I. Agree about. W.H Auden. His poem is. Rather pessimistic. It was the best I could. Come up with at the time. Youth. Selection. Is better.

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Dear Foxy,

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Thanks for the typos.

If machines were really designed to write like humans, Foxy, they would make a lot more mistakes. Typos are not just human, they are also very personal. There’s a disconnect between brain and fingers that is particular to each one of us.

Your typos are peculiar to you and you alone, Foxy. It means that it really is you who is writing to me, not somebody else, or just the application of algorithms and artificial intelligence.

By the same token, I’m sure Joe would have appreciated Auden's elegiac poem, not so much for any intrinsic quality it may (or may not) have but, rather, for the sincerity and heartfelt expression of your personal sympathy and condolences.

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Thank. You. For. Your. Kind. Words. They. Are. Appreciated.

You. Have. Given. Me. Frequent. Attacks. Of. Smiling. Through. The. Heart.

Thank You. BP.

Dear BP,

The internet has miraculously come back just now
and it feels like an old friend has returned.
I much prefer my old computer to the ipad my
son bought for me. Anyway, it's good to go back to my
old style of posting once again.

Thank You for all your poems once again. They and
your posts are deeply appreciated.