Poetry Thursday

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour!

William Shakespeare“Twelfth Night”, Act 1 scene 1
Greatest English dramatist & poet (1564 – 1616)

I just returned from the Stratford (Ontario) Shakespeare Festival, where one of this year’s featured productions is Twelfth Night.  Although I didn’t see that particular play this time, I have seen it done at Stratford in the past, and they do a marvelous job (with everything, actually). I also bought my husband a souvenir t-shirt bearing the opening stanza. His men’s choral group sings a lovely version of this song, arranged by David Dickau.  Always makes me swoon…

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