Shall I compare thee to a winter's day?
Thou art more frosty
Rough winds do shake the snow drifts away,
And winter's lease is all too short I'm told:
Sometime too chilly the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his icy pavement slippy,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's temperature is nippy:
But thy eternal snowman shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that carrot nose,
Nor shall Spring brag thou melt'st in his shade,
When in eternal top hats and stove pipes thou are froze,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives winter, and winter gives life to thee.
My spud's eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than this pepper's red:
If snow be white, why then this lettuce is dun;
If sprouts be wires, frayed wires stick out from under this bread.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in this radish;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in this salad, for which I'm kind of gladdish.
I love to hear cheese curds squeak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw green goddess since long ago,
But this dressing, when it's poured, spills on the ground:
And yet by heaven, I think my lunch as rare,
As any salad belied with false compare.
Elsie's not setting the world on her fire with her sometimes iambic pentameter, but I'm sure Shakespeare wrote some rocky rhymes in his day. For the mean time Elsie should hang onto her day job, but as soon as she gets her first play produced Bill, Sarah, Heather and I will be in the front row of the otherwise empty pub theatre.
|Standing in front of Shakespeare's tomb I heard, "Richard, what's your Shakespeare face?" This is what I saw. No joke.|