Friday morning

Thinking about things:

Beautiful words. Calligraphy class. And home.

Yesterday, amid the flowers and papers and ink bottles and sideways and across the table conversations about letters and words and paintings and friendships and proximity and development and worries and hurt, we calligraphy students copied Lord Byron's "She walks in beauty" from a beautified draft [with flourishes and weight given to particular words] created by my dear friend and master teacher of calligraphy Lauren.

I love this poem and have written it [in my simple cursive-version of calligraphy] two times in the past. I have an excerpt of one of these versions [the first four lines of the poem with the adored phrase "meet in the aspect of her eyes "] on my wall above my desk in my study. [I often cut apart/up my calligraphy to make presentable artifacts. For looking at and perhaps for reminding me of thoughts I need to keep close by].

Lord Byron wrote this poem in 1814 after he saw a cousin at a party wearing a dress of mourning with spangles on it.

CLXXIII.

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY

Lord Byron

I. SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

II.

One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling place. III. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!