Estou trabalhando neste momento. Um calor incivilizado em Lisboa. Enquanto não dá tempo de postar (estou trabalhando neste momento) deixo vocês na companhia do senhor William Wordsworth:

Lines written when sailing

Written when sailing in a Boat At EVENING.

How rich the wave, in front, imprest
With evening twilights summer hues,
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent path pursues!
And see how dark the backward stream!
A little moment past, so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
Some other loiterer beguiling.

Such views the youthful bard allure,
But, heedless of the following gloom,
He deems their colours shall endure
‘Till peace go with him to the tomb.
–And let him nurse his fond deceit,
And what if he must die in sorrow!
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet,
Though grief and pain may come to-morrow?