Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
Probably tripled his transfer value in just 90 minutes of football. Ripped Blackburn apart at times. The 2nd half flick over the Blackburn defender and mazy run were exquisite.
Woolfenden and Chalobah are both very classy .... of course they'll make errors .... just like every player on the planet (crikey have you ever watched England play)... but their qualities are plain to see.
Mogga's analysis of Harrison is also spot on. The guy is an absolute handful and will be a great asset as the season progresses.
Donacien is a work in progress but looked a lot more comfortable at right back. Overall, the early signs are encouraging with more players to come in ...
Off the field same old shyte persists .... kiosks on Portman Road sold out of programmes by 2.30 and at half time Cobbold sold out of water on one of the hottest days of the year. Extraordinarily inept given Marcus Evans supposedly made a chunk of his fortune in hospitality.
Plus the exterior facade of the Cobbold is a disgrace, peeling dank windows resemble a derelict tower block from the 70s. Replace them with blue and white ones you numpties.
Also the flags on the East of England stand - sad, unwashed and limply hanging there unloved season after season. Clean them FFS or replace them with new ones!