A snippet of John Keats's Ode to a Nightingale (vandalised by a juvenile faux-nihilist who thinks he's funny but who is actually not funny because he's shitting on a meisterwerk) and, below it, a complete poem by Edward Thomas. Both are taken from The New Oxford Book of English Verse. (Click to enlarge.)
* What, Tasmania?
** A sacred fountain on Mt Helicon that came into being care of a clumsy winged horse. Visited occasionally by a gaggle of water nymphs called the Muses. Pretty sure there was no shiatsu in those days, though must check this.
Somehow this is beyond flippancy.
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