TO GEORGE SAND ON HIS DESIRE by E. Browning

Thou large-brained woman and large-hearted man,Self-called George Sand ! whose soul, amid the lions
Of thy tumultuous senses, moans defiance
And answers roar for roar, as spirits can:
I would some mild miraculous thunder ran
Above the applauded circus, in appliance
Of thine own nobler nature's strength and science,
Drawing two pinions, white as wings of swan,
From thy strong shoulders, to amaze the place
With holier light ! that thou to woman's claim
And man's, mightst join beside the angel's grace
Of a pure genius sanctified from blame
Till child and maiden pressed to thine embrace
To kiss upon thy lips a stainless fame.

TO GEORGE SHAND, A RECOGNITION by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

True genius, but true woman! dost deny The woman's nature with a manly scorn
And break away the gauds and armlets worn
By weaker women in captivity?
Ah, vain denial! that revolted cry
Is sobbed in by a woman's voice forlorn, _
Thy woman's hair, my sister, all unshorn
Floats back dishevelled strength in agony
Disproving thy man's name: and while before
The world thou burnest in a poet-fire,
We see thy woman-heart beat evermore
Through the large flame. Beat purer, heart, and higher,
Till God unsex thee on the heavenly shore
Where unincarnate spirits purely aspire!

SHALL I COMPARE THEE..... by W. SHAKESPEARE

Shall I compare the to a Summer's Day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

ON HIS BLINDNESS by JOHN MILTON

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide,

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest He returning chide,

'Doth God exact day labor, light denied?'

I fondly ask. But Patience to prevent

That murmur soon replies, 'God doth not need

Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait.'

INVINCIBLE AND SHORT CHANGE: NO MORE (Anonymous)

The title s the easy part. if you get my drift, Drift
Short of change don't go looking in Curly's jacket
Pocket, now will you then.
Your sister from Bethlehem in the O F of S is on her way
Taking the Tribunal down from Hannekom train station.

Zelda's mother's been poorly, I believe.
Moved her from left wing into right corner
She's there at The Rugby Memorial Nursing Homes
For geriatrics and Allzies. My mom's booked in for next year.

Arthur, that's Zelda from Bethlehem, is here for 2 weeks
He's come to see Brashalley whose had a spot on his lung
The doctors say it's nothing but a smudge on the lense
Oh perhaps he said the plate - all the same it appears
That he doesn t have the C word or anything.

Did you HEAR - Johnny s been having it off with Delilah
that's one of the baker's assistants in the baking section
Takes real risks, he does. His old lady does the banking
and the books four days a week. Likely to come across
the two of them one of these days!

Her name's Delisha and he's an I Tie by name of Guiseppe.

Well Buds, that's all thats hot off the press for the mo.
Send my regards to Mathilda, Bethany and Seth.

Take care, your friend

Bartholomew.