- Mark Olival-Bartley
- As the resident artist at EcoHealth, I pen verse 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.
by William Shakespeare
Since I left you,mine eye is in my minde,
And that which gouernes me to goe about,
Doth part his function,and is partly blind,
Seemes ſeeing,but effectually is out:
For it no forme deliuers to the heart
Of bird,of flowre,or ſhape which it doth lack,
Of his quick obiects hath the minde no part,
Nor his owne viſion houlds what it doth catch:
For if it ſee the rud'ſt or gentleſt ſight,
The moſt ſweet-fauor or deformedſt creature,
The mountaine,or the ſea,the day,or night:
The Croe,or Doue,it ſhapes them to your feature.
Incapable of more repleat,with you,
My moſt true minde thus maketh mine vntrue.
Note: A recitation can be heard here.