Poem of the day

Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight
from Hero and Leander
by Christopher Marlowe (c. 1564-1593))

It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows, let it suffice,
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?

Poem of the day

This has been often recorded. Here are examples by John McCormack and Richard Dyer-Bennet.

Oft in the Stilly Night
by Thomas Moore (1779-1852)

Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood’s years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm’d and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain hath bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.

When I remember all
The friends, so link’d together,
I’ve seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather;
I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.

Poem of the day

Sonnet I from Modern Love
by George Meredith (1828-1909)

By this he knew she wept with waking eyes;
   That, at his hand’s light quiver by her head,
   The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes,
   Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay
   Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away
With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
   Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat
   Sleep’s heavy measure, they from head to feet
Were moveless, looking through their dead black years,
By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall.
   Like sculptured effigies they might be seen
   Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between;
Each wishing for the sword that severs all.

Poem of the day

Cantilena a Lesbia
by Esteban Manuel de Villegas (1589-1669)

Al son de las castañas
que saltan en el fuego,
echa vino, muchacho,
beba Lesbia y juguemos,
siquiera el Capricornio
tiré lanzas de hielo,
mal agüero á casados,
buen auspicio á solteros;
enemigo de Baco
cuando estaba en el suelo,
destrozándole vides,
rumiándole sarmientos,
y agora no tan dócil,
que no procure vernos
aguados con mil aguas
y helados con mil hielos.
Yo apostaré, mi Lesbia,
que si le diese el cielo
poder en causa propia,
que nos hiciese yermos.
¡Oh, cómo el insolente
diera fin al viñedo,
y juntamente en Darro
con todos los sedientos!
porque daños mayores
se le siguen al cuerpo,
beber tus aguas, Tajo,
que echarse en las del Ebro.;
pero ya que los astros
mejor que esto lo hicieron,
echa vino, muchacho,
beba Lesbia y juguemos.

The problem is “traditional” objectivity, not objectivity per se

This editorial has been wildly miscontrued by those who thinks it means abandoning the concept of truth. So perhaps a few quotes are in order.

“I didn’t consider it [objectivity] a standard for our newsroom. My goals for our journalism were instead accuracy, fairness, nonpartisanship, accountability and the pursuit of truth.”

“We urge news organizations to, first, strive not just for accuracy based on verifiable facts, but also for truth — what Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward have called “the best obtainable version of the truth.” This means original journalism that includes investigating and reporting on all aspects of American life.”

What's needed for each are clear and consistent policies regarding social media and political activity.