Next To Heaven - 51
The penultimate Next To Heaven of Season 1 concerns unrequited love. The main text of this episode is a poem by Robert Burns, “Anna, Thy Charms.”
"Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
And waste my soul with care;
But ah! how bootless to admire,
When fated to despair!
Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
To hope may be forgiven;
For sure 'twere impious to despair
So much in sight of heaven."
"Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
And waste my soul with care;
But ah! how bootless to admire,
When fated to despair!
Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
To hope may be forgiven;
For sure 'twere impious to despair
So much in sight of heaven."
posted by rob parrish at 9:33 PM
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1 Comments:
"Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love..."
Oh yes. Tee hee and weep. It's all in the saucepan. The seepage of unrequited passion. Of course, every girl should have one. A saucepan, that is...I've got serveral myself!
Another gem.
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