There is something peculiarly British about the fact that we have many different words for precipitation arising from our legendary obsession with the weather, itself not surprising for a people living on an island at the junction of four weather systems but with a prevailing westerly airstream. In contrast, the most dramatic and powerful of human emotions is summed up in a single rather bland word “love.” To the Ancient...
Come, lady, no more delay, it is time for love,And I am waiting, hot with expectant desireTo begin that sweet voyage of explorationThat leads to paradise, as we fly to the starsIn mutual embrace, daily cares forgottenIn the exquisite ecstasy of married bliss.Come lady, finish your nocturnal ritualsAnd stand before the bed where I lie waiting,My desire inflamed by your aching lovelinessThrobbing with the sweet ache of anti...
