[malakhi]

The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless;
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;
I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

I wonder if Walt had a pond.

Long have you timidly waded, holding a plank by the shore;
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.

I'm guessing "yes". ;o)

[Invincibly Ignorant]

I'm guessing "yes". ;o)

Hey if you were born 30 years earlier you could have been Maynard G. Crebbs on Doby Gillis.

[Invincibly Ignorant]

Oh. About Maynard G. Crebb? I meant that for you whatwith your love for literature and poetry. :-)

[OLD REGGIE]

". . . I am mad . . . "

I'm guessing this tells the story.

[OLD REGGIE]

I wonder if Walt had a pond.

Strange, I was looking out the window at my "pond" this morning. There was a gentle rain which barely made dimples on the surface. The Ducks were swimming, a few Mourning Dove's were feeding on the bank, So quiet, so peaceful. I was mesmerized.

The first "classic" literature I was exposed to was The Merchant of Venice. I remember two assignments from this play. I had to memorize, and recite, Portia's "The Quality of Mercy . . . " and Shylock's "I am a Jew . . . ".

This was more than 60 years ago and I still remembered a few lines.

Oh well, all I was interested in was "The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven . . . ". I got that right anyway.