Communicator (communicator) wrote,
Communicator
communicator

Last of the Time Lords

What a shame. I was watching the show in a house full of people who were all very lovely, but quite sceptical about Doctor Who, and I was all quietly 'You just wait this is going to be the coolest' and er, it wasn't.

There was some good stuff in it, just like there's bad stuff in the best episodes. Anyway, too tired to post any more now, so here's Tithonus


(well part of it)

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,

Me only cruel immortality
Consumes

I wither slowly in thine arms,
Here at the quiet limit of the world,

Alas! for this gray shadow, once a man--
So glorious in his beauty and thy choice,
Who madest him thy chosen, that he seem'd
To his great heart none other than a God!

But thy strong Hours indignant work'd their wills,
And beat me down and marr'd and wasted me,
And tho' they could not end me, left me maim'd

Let me go: take back thy gift:

A soft air fans the cloud apart; there comes
A glimpse of that dark world where I was born.
Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals
From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure,
And bosom beating with a heart renew'd.
Thy cheek begins to redden thro' the gloom,
Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine,
Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team
Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise,


with what another heart
In days far-off, and with what other eyes
I used to watch (if I be he that watch'd)
The lucid outline forming round thee

Thy presence and thy portals, while I lay,
Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dewy-warm
With kisses balmier than half-opening buds
Of April, and could hear the lips that kiss'd
Whispering I knew not what of wild and sweet,

Yet hold me not for ever in thine East;
How can my nature longer mix with thine?
Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold
Are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled feet
Upon thy glimmering thresholds, when the steam
Floats up from those dim fields about the homes
Of happy men that have the power to die,
And grassy barrows of the happier dead.

Release me, and restore me to the ground;
Thou seest all things, thou wilt see my grave:
Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn;
I earth in earth forget these empty courts,
And thee returning on thy silver wheels.
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