Alors voici la suite du poème: Since then, other enchantments have blazed and faded, enemies changed their address, and War made ugly an uncountable number of unknown neighbors, precious as us to themselves: but round your image there is no fog, and the Earth can still astonish.
Of what, then, should I complain, pottering about a neat suburban kitchen? Solitude? Rubbish? It's social enough with real faces and landscapes for whose friendly countenance I at least can learn to live with obesity and a little fame.
Et pour ce vendredi 7 de 2007, bonne fête à Camille!