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dormeurduval:

Sestina, by Ciara Shuttleworth, from The New Yorker Nov. 29, 2010
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Out of the mouths of monsters….

Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep
Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.

The Tempest(3.2.130-138).

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<3

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“Keep your goals away from the trolls.”

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