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As the resident artist at EcoHealth, I pen verse these days inspired by the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at Amerika-Institut of LMU München, where I edit a weekly circular on poetry, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach English, tutor composition, and lead a literary circle.

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LXXXV


by William Shakespeare

My toung-tide Muſe in manners holds her ſtill,
While comments of your praiſe richly compil'd,
Reſerue thy Character with goulden quill,
And precious phraſe by all the Mufes fil'd.
I thinke good thoughts,whilſt other write good wordes,
And like vnlettered clarke ſtill crie Amen,
To euery Himne that able ſpirit affords,
In poliſht forme of well refined pen.
Hearing you praiſd,I ſay 'tis ſo, 'tis true,
And to the moſt of praife adde ſome-thing more,
But that is in my thought, whoſe loue to you
(Though words come hind-moſt)holds his ranke before,
   Then others,for the breath of words reſpect,
   Me for my dombe thoughts,ſpeaking in effect.


Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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